Talbot Baines Reed

Parkhurst Boys Talbot Baines Reed

It was a proud moment in my existence when Wright, captain of our football club, came up to me in school one Friday and said, ?Adams, your name is down to play in the match against Craven to-morrow.? I could have knighted him on the spot. To be one of the picked ?fifteen,? whose glory it was to fight the battles of their school in the Great Close, had been the leading ambition of my life?I suppose I ought to be ashamed to confess it?ever since, as a little chap of ten, I entered Parkhurst six years ago. Not a winter Saturday but had seen me either looking on at some big match, or oftener still scrimmaging about with a score or so of other juniors in a scratch game. But for a long time, do what I would, I always seemed as far as ever from the coveted goal, and was half despairing of ever rising to win my ?first fifteen cap.? Latterly, however, I had noticed Wright and a few others of our best players more than once lounging about in the Little Close, where we juniors used to play, evidently taking observations with an eye to business. Under the awful gaze of these heroes, need I say I exerted myself as I had never done before? What cared I for hacks or bruises, so only that I could distinguish myself in their eyes? And never was music sweeter than the occasional ?Bravo, young ?un!? with which some of them would applaud any special feat of skill or daring.