You'll graduate from high school late this month. Your job, thus far, has been education. If you want to make a good job of that, your road leads straight to the University."
The boy's chin became stubborn. "That's one kind of good finish. I'm thinking of another kind. I mean a good finish to the job of doing something. I want to get out and tackle the things that are waiting to be done. Four years more of study seems like four years more on the sidelines."
"And yet," said Mr. Banning, "I knew a man who waited three years on the sidelines, and then went out and won the biggest game of the year. It really wasn't three years on the sidelines—it was three years of studying, and watching, and thinking, and learning how."
The boy shook his head. His mental processes were slow. He felt that he was being entangled in a labyrinth of words, worsted not by logic but by language. Mr. Banning understood his silence. "You can't quite see it, can you?"
"No," the boy said honestly.
"I didn't expect you to—right away. Go back to the campaign the school made for the athletic field. The school wanted advice. It needed somebody to show it the way to success. Out of all its graduates you went to Carlos Dix. Why?"
