The casual observer would have thought each and every one insane, as, suddenly darting from the line, one after another, they flung themselves upon the ground, rolled frantically about as though in spasms, and then arose and went back into the rank.

But had you observed carefully you would have noticed that each spasm was caused by a rolling ball, wobbling its erratic way across the turf before them.
Around about, in and out, forms darted after descending spheroids, or seized a ball from outstretched hands, started desperately into motion, charged a few yards, and then, as though reconsidering, turned and trotted back, only to repeat the performance the next moment.

And footballs banged against broad backs with hollow sounds, or rolled about between stoutly clad feet, or ascended into the air in great arching flights.

And a babel of voices was on all sides, cries of warning, sharp commands, scathing denouncements.
"Straighten your arm, man; that's not a baseball!" "Faster, faster! Put some ginger into it!" "Get on your toes, Smith.

Start when you see the ball coming.