The New Sports Master

 A sight was witnessed that had never before been seen in all the history of Budbury School. The entire cricket team – all of them – Fifth and Sixth Formers alike – were made to bend over and receive a severe caning in full public view. – Extracted from Mr Boot’s Protector, The Hotspur, 11 May 1935 (available free-of-charge online here.)

Mr Jones has been appointed the new sports master at Budbury School with instructions to “shake things up.” He does precisely that from the moment he arrives.

Now read on ...

 

About three o’clock Mr Jones strolled on to the playing-fields. It was a half holiday, and a keenly-contested cricket match was being played between the Fifth and the Sixth Forms.

Suddenly the new master strode on to the field right in the middle of an over.

“Stop this!” he snapped.

Parr, the Sixth Former who had been bowling, gasped in astonishment, and Fielding, the school captain, came across from his position in slips indignantly.

“Here, you can’t interrupt the game like this,” he protested.

“I can’t, can’t I?” sneered Mr Jones. “Well, I can, and I am! You fellows don’t know it yet, but I’m the new sports master. And from what I’ve seen of your play, it’s high time I had a hand in it. You can stop this game straight away.”

“But,” protested Fielding, “it’s a match, sir. We – we’ve got to finish it.”

An ugly look came into Mr Jones’ face.

“Are you daring to argue with me?” he roared. “Cease the game instantly and come over to the nets. I’ll show you fellows how to play cricket.”

There were many black looks cast at the new sports master who had thus made such a sudden and unexpected entry into the school, but the boys could do nothing about it. Grumbling quietly to each other, they followed Mr Jones across to the nets. Thereafter, nothing that they could do pleased Mr Jones.

Joe Rusty, who had appeared on the banking at the back of the nets, heard his continual fault finding with amazement.

Jones criticised the fellows’ batting, their picking up of the ball, their bowling, their throwing-in. Nothing that anybody did satisfied him. He got angrier and angrier.

At last he strode up to Fielding, the captain.

“Laziness,” he snarled, “just pure laziness! That’s what it is. You’re slacking. Well, you can understand straight away that I will have no slacking while I’m around. Another exhibition like you have given me today and I’ll kick you clean out of the team.”

Fielding’s face flushed. He was a first-class bat and executed his strokes with an ease and grace that many a county cricketer might have envied.

“Indeed, sir. I’m not,” he protested. “I’m doing__”

Mr Jones didn’t let Fielding finish the sentence. His face turned almost purple.

“You dare to argue with me?” he roared. “Not only slackness but sheer defiance. I can see you want a lesson – a very sharp one. You shall have it.”

Suddenly the new master stepped forward and hit Fielding quite heavily across the face.

A startled gasp went up. That a Sixth Former should be treated in such a manner was absolutely against the code of the school. Fielding’s face turned dead white, except for the red finger-marks across his cheek.

“You – you can’t do that,” he gasped.

“It’s not allowed. I’m captain of the school. I___”

Mr Jones’ hand swung again. This time it was a heavier blow, and knocked Fielding completely off his feet.

“Not allowed, eh?” roared Mr Jones. “I’ll teach you young cubs that I do what I like. Captain or no captain, you’ll do what you’re told. And I’ll treat you how I like.”

Parr, Fielding’s friend, clenched his fists suddenly.

“Not if I know it,” he snapped and stepped forward. “You’ve no right to lay hands on a Sixth Former like that and___”

Mr Jones’ fist caught Parr a heavy blow in the face, and the Sixth Former staggered back and fell on the prostrate form of Fielding.

Mr Jones’ eyes fairly blazed.

“I’ll teach the lot of you,” he snarled. “Evidently you need a lesson badly. You!,” he yelled to Horton, who had come up to the nets, “go to my study and fetch me a cane. I’ll teach you guys not to slack – and not to dare argue with me.”

Horton didn’t seem at all displeased with his errand. He ran off quickly.

Up on the banking Joe Rusty thrust his clenched fists into his pockets to prevent himself from taking a hand in the proceedings. He was in an awkward position. He might interfere with the boys, but he couldn’t openly, in broad daylight, interfere with a master apparently carrying out his school duties. But Joe eyed Mr Jones murderously and muttered threats under his breath.

When Horton returned a sight was witnessed that had never before been seen in all the history of Budbury. The entire cricket team – all of them – Fifth and Sixth Formers alike – were made to bend over and receive a severe caning in full public view.  One or two showed signs of objecting, but Mr Jones’ ready hand stopped their protests unmercifully. And as the punishment was finished a highly-agitated Mr Boot came running on to the field.

“W-whatever is the matter?” he gasped.

“None of your business!” snapped Mr Jones.

“Re-really?” stuttered Mr Boot.

“If you please, sir,” said one of the boys, “he said we were slacking and we weren’t. And we say he has no right sir, to inflict punishment like that on Sixth Formers.”

“It – it does seem a little unreasonable Mr Jones,” said Mr Boot nervously. “Perhaps___”

With a single stride Mr Jones was in front of the little master. He thrust his face so close to the temporary headmaster that Mr Boot jumped back alarmed.

“Look here,” roared Mr Jones. “I’m sports master here. Complete control I was told. Well you stick to your job and I’ll stick to mine. Don’t you try interrupting with what I do or there’ll be trouble.”

“Q-quite, Mr Jones,” gasped Mr Boot. “I – I have no wish to interfere, I can assure you.”

Striding along the banking, Joe Rusty was gritting his teeth savagely.

“Something’s got to be done about this,” he told himself, “and pretty quickly too.”

 

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