The Coach

"Sit down, sit down, boy," said the coach heartily. "Take a load off your feet. We're just shooting the breeze here."

The student shook his head. "I've got a class, sir. All I wanted to say, sir, is that my faculty adviser thinks it would be better if I gave up football. Varsity football, that is."

Coach Blenheim stared at him.

"My adviser, Professor Gillon, thinks I can't do justice to my studies if I play on the varsity. But he thinks that football is a wonderful game, sir."

Coach Blenheim said, "He does?"

"Oh, yes, sir," said the boy. "He thinks a certain amount of it is a good thing. He suggests I play on my fraternity team. He says I can get as much fun out of that."

Coach Blenheim swallowed and nodded. "Oh, I'm sure you can."

"So I won't be out for practice any more, Coach." The boy put out his hand. "But I sure do thank you for the privilege of playing under such a famous coach, sir."

"Don't mention it," said Blenheim.

"I wonder if I could keep my jersey as a souvenir, sir?"