It was getting mean out there

I watched the scrimmage. It was getting mean out there. The players were reaching the point where they wanted to inflict harm. It was hardly a time for displays of finesse and ungoverned grace. This was the ugly hour. I felt like getting back in. Bing took his seat again. "How's Dickie?" "Dehydration," Bing said. "Hauptfuhrer's giving him hell." "What for?" "For dehydrating." I went over to Oscar Veech and told him I was ready. He said they wanted to take a longer look at Jim Deering. I watched Deering drop a short pass and get hit a full two seconds later by Buddy Shock, a linebacker. This cheered me up and I returned to the bench. "They want to look at Deering some more." "Coach is getting edgy. We open in six days. This is the last scrimmage and he wants to look at everybody." "I wish I knew how good we are." "Coach must be thinking the same thing." Time was called and the coaches moved in to lecture their players. Creed climbed down from the tower and walked slowly toward Garland Hobbs. He took off his baseball cap and brushed it against his thigh as he walked. Hobbs saw him coming and instinctively put on his helmet. Creed engaged him in conversation. "It's a tonguelashing," Bing said. "Coach is hacking at poor old Hobbsie." "He seems pretty calm." "It's a tonguelashing," Bing hissed to Cecil Rector, who was edging along the bench to sit next to us. "How's the shoulder?" I said. "Dislocated." "Too bad." "They can put a harness on it," he said. "We go in six days. If Coach needs me, I'll be ready."