; and both also employed
trainers who, before an important match, took the teams off to a
hydropathic establishment far, far distant from any public-house. (This
was called "training.") Now, whereas the Knype Club was struggling along
fairly well, the Bursley Club had come to the end of its resources. The
great football public had practically deserted it. The explanation, of
course, was that Bursley had been losing too many matches. The great
football public had no use for anything but victories. It would treat
its players like gods--so long as they won. But when they happened to
lose, the great football public simply sulked. It did not kick a man
that was down; it merely ignored him, well knowing that the man could
not get up without help. It cared nothing whatever for fidelity,
municipal patriotism, fair play, the chances of war, or dividends on
capital. If it could see victories it would pay sixpence, but it would
not pay sixpence to assist at defeats.

Still, when at a special general meeting of the Bursley Football Club,
Limited, held at the registered office, the Coffee House, Bursley,
Councillor Barlow, J.P., Chairman of the Company since the creation of
the League, announced that the Directors had reluctantly come to the
conclusion that they could not conscientiously embark on the dangerous
risks of the approaching season, and that it was the intention of the
Directors to wind up the club, in default of adequate public interest--
when Bursley read this in the _Signal_, the town was certainly
shocked. Was the famous club, then, to disappear for ever, and the
football ground to be sold in plots, and the grand stand for firewood?
The shock was so severe that the death of Alderman Bloor (none the less
a mighty figure in Bursley) had passed as a minor event.

Hence the advertisement of the meeting in the Town Hall caused joy and
hope, and people said to themselves: "Something's bound to be done; the
old club can't go out like that." And everybody grew quite sentimental.
And although nothing is supposed to be capable of filling Bursley Town
Hall except a political meeting and an old folk's treat, Bursley Town
Hall was as near full as made no matter for the football question. Many
men had cheerfully sacrificed a game of billiards and a glass of beer in
order to attend it.

The Mayor, in the chair, was a mild old gentleman who knew nothing
whatever about football and had probably never seen a football match;
but it w