THE RESULT OF A FUMBLE Sydney Burr had trundled himself out to the field and had drawn his tricycle close up to the low wooden fence that divides the gridiron from the grand stand and against which the players on the benches lean their blanketed backs.

From there he had an uninterrupted view.

It was a perfect afternoon.

Overhead a few white clouds drifted lazily about against a warm blue sky.

The sun shone brightly and mocked at light overcoats.