 CHAPTER XX There is a group of individuals connected with football to whom the football public pays little attention until at a most inopportune time in the game a whistle is blown or a horn is tuted and you see a presumptuous individual stepping off a damaging five yard penalty against your favorite team. At such a time you arise in your wrath and demand, who is that guy anyway? Where did he come from? Why did he give that penalty? Other muffled tributes are paid him. In calmer moments you realize that the officials are the caretakers of football. They see to it that the game is preserved to us year after year. An official is generally a man who has served his time as a player. Those days over he enters the arena as umpire, referee, or linesman. One who has a keen desire to succeed in this line of work ought to train himself properly for the season's work. In anticipation of the afternoon's work he must get his proper sleep. No night cafes or late hours should be his before a big contest. The workings of football minds towards an official are most narrow and critical at times. The really wise official will remain away from both teams until just before the game lest someone accuse him of being too familiar with the other side. He can offer no opinion upon the game before the contest. Each college has its preferred list of officials. Much time is given to the selection of officials for the different games. Before a man can be chosen for any game it must be shown that he has had no ancestors at either of the colleges in whose game he will act and that he is always unprejudiced. At the same time the fact that a man has been approved as a football official by three or four big colleges is about as fine a football diploma as anyone would wish. For the larger games an official receives $100 expenses. This seems a lot of money for an afternoon's work just for sports sake but there are many officials on the discarded list today who would gladly return all the money they ever received if they could but regain their former popularity and prestige in the game. Certainly an official is not an overpaid man. The wise official arrives at the field only a scant half hour before the game. The head coach sends for you and as he takes you to a secluded spot he describes in his most serious way an important play he will use in the game. He tells you that it is within the rules but for some curious reason anxiously asks your opinion. He informs you that the opposing team has a certain play which is clearly illegal and wants you to watch for it constantly. He further more warns you solemnly that the other team is going to try to put one of his best players out of the game and beseeches you to anticipate this cowardly action and you smile inwardly. Football seriousness is often times amusing. Some of our best umpires always have a little talk with the team before the game. I often remember the old days when Paul Dashall the famous umpire used to come into our dressing room. Standing in the center of the room he would make an appeal to us in his earnest inimitable way not to play offside. He would explain just how we interpreted holding and the use of arms in the game. He would encourage us to be thoroughbreds and to play the game fair to make it a clean game so that it might be unnecessary to inflict penalties. Football, he would say, is a game for the players not for the officials. Then he would depart leaving behind him a very clear conviction with us that he meant business. If we broke the rules our team would unquestionably suffer. Some of my most pleasant football recollections are those gained as an official in the game. I counted a rare privilege to have worked in many games year after year where I came in close contact with the players on different college teams, there to catch their spirit and to see the working out of victories and defeats at close range. Here it is that one comes in close touch with the great power of leadership, that do or die spirit which makes a player ready to go in a little harder with each play. Knocked over, he comes up with a grin and sets his jaw a little stiffer for next time. As an official you are often thrilled as you see a man making a great play. You long to pat him on the back and say, well done. If you see an undiscovered fumbled ball, you yearn to yell out, here it is. But all this you realize cannot be done unless one momentarily forgets himself like John Bell. My recollection is that I acted as an official in but one game, says he. I was too intense a partisan. Nevertheless, I was pressed into service in a Lehigh pen game in the late 80s. I recall that Duncan Spath, now professor of English at Princeton and coach of the Princeton crew, was playing on Pennsylvania's team. He made a long run with the ball, was thrown about the 20 yard line, rose pushed on and was thrown again between the five and 10 yard line. Refusing to be downed, he continued to roll over a number of times with several Lehigh players hanging on to him until finally he was stopped within about a foot of the goal line. For getting his official duties in the excitement of the moment it is alleged that the referee, myself, jumped up and down excitedly, calling out, roll over, Spathe, just once more. And Spathe did. A touchdown resulted. But the referee spate after the game was like that of St. Stephen. He was stoned. In the old days, one official used to handle the entire game. A man would even officiate in a game where his own college was a contestant. This was true in the case of Walter Camp, Tracy Harris, and other heroes of the past. Later the number of officials was increased. Such a list records Willis Terry, Alex Moffat, Pa Corbin, Ray Tompkins, SV Coffin, Appleton, and other men who protected the game in the early stages. Within my recollection, for many years the two most prominent, as well as the most efficient officials, whose names were always coupled, were McClung, Referee, and Dashall, umpire. No two better officials ever worked together, and there is as much necessity for teamwork in officiating as there is in playing. Both graduated from Lehigh, and the prominent position that they took in football was a source of great satisfaction to their university. Officials come and go. These men have had their day, but no two ever contributed better work. The game of football was safe in their hands. Paul Dashall and Walter Camp are the only two survivors of the original Rules Committee. Dashall's Reminiscences As an official, the first big game I umpired was in 1894 between Yale and Princeton, following this with nine consecutive years of umpiring the match, writes Dashall. After Harvard and Yale resumed relations, I umpired their games for six years running. I officiated in practically all the Harvard Penn games and the Penn Cornell games during those years, as well as many of the minor games, having had practically every Saturday taken each fall during those 12 years, so I saw about all the football there was. When I look back on those years and what they taught me, I feel that I'd not be without them for the world. They showed so much human nature, so many hundreds of plucky things mingled with a lot of mean ones, such a show of manhood under pressure. I learned to know so many wonderful chaps, and some of my most valued friendships were formed at those times. I liked the responsibility too, although I knew that from one game to another, I was walking on ice so thin that one bad mistake, however unintended, would break it. The rules were so incomplete that common sense was needed, and frequently, interpretation was simply by mutual consent. Bitterness of feeling between the big colleges made my duties all the harder. But it was an untold satisfaction when I could feel that I had done well, and as I said, the responsibility had its fascination, and in the main was a great satisfaction. And then came the inevitable, a foul seen only by me, which called for an immediate penalty. This led to skeeting criticism and accusations of unfairness by many that did not understand the incident, altogether leaving a sting that will go down with me to my grave in spite of my happy recollections of the game. I had always taken a great pride in the job, and in what the confidence of the big universities from one year to another meant. I knew a little better than anybody else how conscientiously I had tried to be fair and to use sense and judgment, and the end of it all heard a lot. One friendship was made in those years that has been worth more than words can tell. I refer to that of Matthew McClung. To be known as a co-official with McClung was a privilege that only those who knew him can appreciate. I had known him before at Lehigh in his undergraduate days, and had played on the same teams with him. In after years, we were officials together in a great many of the big games where feeling ran high and manliness and fairness, as well as judgment, were often put to a pretty severe test at short notice. Never was there a squarer sportsman, or a fairer, more conscientious and efficient official, nor a truer, more gallant type of real man than he. His early death took out of the game a man of the kind we can ill afford to lose, and no tribute that I could pay him would be high enough. One night after a Yale Harvard game at Cambridge, I was boarding the midnight train for New York. The porter had my bag, and as we entered the car, he confided in me in an almost ostrac tone that, Dad, dare gentlemen in despoken compartment, am John L. Sullivan. I crept into my berth, but next morning in the washroom, I recognized John L. as the only man left. He emerged from his basin and asked, Were you at the football game yesterday? And then, who won? I told him, and by way of making conversation, asked him if he was interested in all those outdoor games, but his voice dropped to the sepulchral and confidential as he said, There's murder in that game. I answered, Well, how about the fighting game? He came back with, sparring, it doesn't compare in roughness or danger with football. In sparring, you know what you are doing. You know what your opponent is trying to do, and he's right there in front of you, and there's only one. But in football, say there's 22 people trying to do you. There being only 21 other than the player concerned, I could not but infer that he meant to indicate the umpire as the 22nd. My Personal Experiences In my experience as an official, I recall the fact that I began officiating as a referee and had been engaged and notified in the regular way to referee the Penn Harvard game on Franklin Field in 1905. When I arrived at the field, McClung was the other official. He had never umpired but had always acted as a referee. In my opinion, a man should be either referee or umpire. Each position requires a different kind of experience, and I do not believe officials can successfully interchange these positions. Those who have officiated can appreciate the predicament I was in, especially just at that time when there was so much talk of football reform by means of changing the rules, changing the style of the game, stopping mass plays. However, I consented for appreciating that McClung was sincere in his statement that he could do nothing but referee. I was forced to attempt the umpire's task. It was a game full of intense rivalry. The desire to win was carrying the men beyond the bounds of an ordinarily spirited contest, and the umpire's job proved a most severe task. It was in this game that either four or five men were disqualified. I continued several years after this in the capacity of umpire. One unfortunate experience as umpire came as a result of a penalty inflicted upon Wakasa, an Indian player who had tackled too vigorously a pen player who was out of bounds. Much wrangling ensued, and a policeman was called upon the field. It was the quickest way to keep the game from getting out of hand. Washington and Jefferson played the Indians at Pittsburgh some years ago. I acted as umpire. The game was played in a driving rainstorm in a muddier field I never saw. The players, as well as the officials, were covered with mud. In fact, my sweater was saturated, the players having used it as a sort of towel to dry their hands. A kicked ball had been fumbled on the goal line, and there was a battle royal on the part of the players to get the coveted ball. I dived into the scramble of wriggling mud-covered players to detect the man who might have the ball. The stockings and jerseys of the players were so covered with mud that you could not tell them apart. As I was forcing my way down into the mass of players, I heard a man shouting for dear life, I am an Indian, I am an Indian, it's my ball. When I finally got hold of the fellow with the ball, I could not for the life of me tell whether he was an Indian or not. However, I held up the decision until someone got a bucket and sponge and the player's face was mopped off, whereupon I saw that he was an Indian all right. He had scored a touchdown for his team. An official in the game is subject to all sorts of criticisms and abuse. Sometimes they are humorous and others have a sting which is not readily forgotten. I admit, on account of my size, there were times in a game when I could get in a player's way, sometimes in the spectator's way. During a Yale Harvard game in which I was acting as an official, the play came close to the sideline and I had taken my position directly between the players and the spectators when some kind friend from the bleachers yelled out, Get off the field! How do you expect us to see the game? I shall never forget one poor little fellow who had recovered a fumbled ball while on top of him was a wriggling mass of players trying to get the ball. As I slowly but surely forced my way down through the pile of players, I finally landed on top of him. I shall never forget how he grunted and yelled, Six or seven of you fellows, Get off of me! It was in the same game that some man from the bleachers called out as I was running up the field. Here comes the beef trust. There was a coach of a southern college who tried to put over a new one on me when I caught him coaching from the sidelines in a game with Pennsylvania on Franklin Field. I first warned him and when he persisted in the offense, I put him behind the ropes on a bench besides imposing the regular penalty. It was not long after this that I discovered he had left the bench. I found him again on the sideline wearing a heavy ulster and change of hat to disguise himself, but this quick change artist promptly got the gate. I knew a player who had an opportunity to get back in an official, but there was no rule to meet the situation. A penalty had been imposed because the player had used improper language. A heated argument followed, and I am afraid the umpire was guilty of a like offense when the player exclaimed, Well, well, why don't you penalize yourself? He surely was right. I should have been penalized. One sometimes unconsciously fails to deal out a kindness for a courtesy done. That was my experience in a Harvard Gale game at Cambridge one year. On the morning before the game, while I was at the hotel terrain, I was making an earnest effort to get what seemed almost impossible a seat for a friend of mine. I had finally purchased one for ten dollars, and so made known the fact to two or three of my friends in the corridor. About this time a tall athletic chap who had heard that I wanted an extra ticket volunteered to get me one at the regular price which he succeeded in doing. I had no difficulty in returning my speculators ticket. I thanked the fellow cordially for getting me the ticket. I did not see him again until late that afternoon when the game was merely over. Some rough work in one of the scrimmages compelled me to withdraw one of the Harvard players from the game. As I walked with him to the sidelines, I glanced at his face only to recognize my friend, the ticket producer. The umpire's task then became harder than ever as I gave him a seat on the sideline. That player was Vic Kinard. Everett's Wren, one of the foremost officials a few years ago, has had some interesting experiences of his own. While umpiring a game between Michigan and Ohio State at Columbus, he says, Heston, Michigan's fullback carrying the ball, broke through the line, was tackled and thrown. Recovered his feet, started again, was tackled and thrown again, threw off his tacklers only to be thrown again. Again he broke away. All this time I was backing up in front of the play. As Heston broke away from the last tacklers, I backed suddenly into the outstretched arms of the Ohio State fullback who, it appears, had been backing up step by step with me. Heston ran 30 yards for a touchdown. You can imagine how unpopular I was with the home team and how ridiculous my flight appeared. Another instance occurred in a Chicago Cornell game at Marshall Field, Wren goes on to say, You know it always seems good to an official to get through a game without having to make any disagreeable decisions. I was congratulating myself on having got through this game so fortunately. As I was hurrying off the field, I was stopped by the little Cornell trainer, who had been very much in evidence on the sidelines during the game. He called to me. Mr. Wren, and I straightened, chucking out my chest and getting my hand ready for congratulations, that was the blank blank piece of umpiring I ever saw in my life. I can't describe my feelings. I was standing there with my mouth open when he had got yards away. Dan Hurley, who was captain of the 1904 Harvard team, writes me as follows. Football rules are changed from year to year. The causes of these changes are usually new points which have arisen the year previous during football games. A good many rules are interpreted according to the judgment of each individual official. I remember two points that arose in the Harvard Pen game in 1904 at Soldiers Field. In this year, there was a great rivalry between the players representing Harvard in Pennsylvania. The contest was sharp and bitterly fought all the way through. Both teams had complained frequently to Edwards, the umpire. Finally, he caught two men red-handed, so to speak. There was no argument. Both men admitted it. It so happened that both men were very valuable to their respective teams. The loss of either man would be greatly felt. Both captains cornered Edwards and both agreed that he was perfectly right in his contention that both men should have to leave the field. But, and it was this that caused the new rule to be enforced the next year. Both captains suggested that they were perfectly willing for both men to remain in the game despite the penalty. And with eager faces, both captains watched Edwards face as he pondered whether he should or should not permit them to remain in the game. He did, however, allow both to play. Of course, this ruling was establishing a dangerous precedent. Therefore, the next year the Rules Committee incorporated a new rule to the effect that two captains of opposing teams could not by mutual agreement permit a player who ought to be removed for committing a foul to remain in the game. Bill Crowell of Swarthmore, later a coach at Lafayette, is another official who has had curious experiences. In a Lehigh Indian game a few years ago at South Bethlehem, in which I was acting as referee, he says, in the early part of the game Lehigh held Carlisle to four downs inside of the three-yard line, and when on the last try Powell, the Indian back, failed to take it over, contrary to the opinion of Warner, their coach. I called out Lehigh's ball and moved behind the Lehigh team, which was forming to take the ball out of danger. Just before the ball was snapped and everything was quiet in the stands, Warner called across the field. Hey, Crowell, you're the best defensive man Lehigh's got. Phil Draper, famous in Williams football, and without doubt one of the greatest halfbacks that ever played, also served his time as an official. He says, from my experience as an official, I believe that most of our troubles come from the coaches. If things are not going as well with their team as they ought to go, they have a tendency to blame it on the officials in order to protect themselves. There was in my playing days, as now, the usual controversy in reference to the officials of the game, says Willis Terry, and the same controversies arose in those days in regard to the decisions which were given. My sympathies have always been with the officials in the game in all decisions that they have rendered. It is impossible for them to see everything, but when they come to make a decision, they are the only ones that are on the spot and simply have to decide on what they see at the moment. It is a difficult position. Thousands say you are right, thousands say you are wrong, but my belief has always been that nine times out of ten, the official's decision is correct. It was my misfortune to officiate in but one large game, that between Harvard and Princeton in the fall of 87. This was the year that there was a great outcry regarding the rules, particularly in reference to tackling. It was decided that a tackle below the waste was a foul and the penalty was disqualification. I was appointed umpire in the Harvard Princeton game of that year. Before the game I called the teams together and told them what the representatives of the three colleges had agreed upon. They had authorized me to carry the rules out in strict accordance with their instructions and I proposed to do so. In the early part of the game there was a scrimmage on one side of the field and after the mass had been cleared away I heard somebody call for me. On looking around I found that the call came from Holden, captain of the Harvard team. He called my attention to the fact that he was still being tackled and that the man had both his arms around his knee with his head resting on it. He demanded under the agreed interpretation of the rules that the tackle be decided a foul and that the man be disqualified and sent from the field. The question of intent was not allowed me for I had to decide on the facts as they presented themselves. The result was that Cohen, one of the most powerful and one of the best linemen that ever stood on a football field, was disqualified. The captain of the Princeton team remarked at the time, I would rather have any three men disqualified than Cohen. As the game up to that time had been very close and the Princeton sympathizers were sure of victory, I believe I was the most cordially hated ex-football player that ever existed. Shortly after this the Harvard men had the Princeton team near their goal line and in possession of the ball. Two linemen used their hands, which on the offense is illegal and made a hole through which the Harvard half back passed and crossed the line for a touchdown amid tremendous cheers from the Harvard contingent. This touchdown was not allowed by the umpire. Again I was the most hated football man that lived so far as Harvard was concerned. The result was that I had no friends on either side of the field. After the game and talking it over with Walter Camp he assured me that the decisions had been correct but that he was very glad he had not had to make them. In spite of these decisions I was asked to umpire in a number of big games the next year, but that one experience had been enough for me. I never appeared again in that or any other official capacity. I have been trying for the last 32 years to get back the friends which, before that game, I had in both Princeton and Harvard circles with only a fair amount of success. I have always considered it a great privilege to have been associated as an official in the game with Pac Corbin. I know of no man that ever worked as earnestly and intelligently to carry out his official duties and year after year he has kept up his interest in the game not only as a coach but as a thoroughly competent official. As a favorite with all colleges his services were eagerly sought. He recollects the following The experience that made as much of an impression upon me as any was the game with Pen Lafayette which came just after the experience of the year before which developed so much rough play. The man agreed upon for umpire did not appear and after waiting a while the two captains came to me and asked if I would umpire in addition to acting as referee. I accused them of conspiracy to put me entirely out of business but they insisted and I reluctantly acquiesced. I told both teams that I would be so busy that I would have no time for arguments or even investigation and any move that seemed to me like roughness would be penalized to the full extent of the rules regardless of whom he was or of how many. The result was that it was one of the most decent games and in fact almost gentlemanly that I have ever experienced. Joe Pendleton has been an official for twenty years. He is an alert conscientious officer in the game. I have worked many times with Joe and he is a very interesting partner in the official end of the game. In the fall of 1915 Joe had a very severe illness and his absence from the football field was deeply regretted. Joe always wore his old Boudin sweater and went out upon the field the big bee on the chest of Joe's white sweater almost covered him up. A few years ago I had occasion to remove a player from a game for a foul play says Joe and in a second the quarterback was telling me of my mistake. Why you can't put that man out he said and when I questioned him as to where he got such a mistaken idea his reply was why he is our captain. In another game after the umpire had disqualified a player for kicking an opponent the offending player appealed to me basing his claim on the ground that he had not kicked the man until after the whistle had been blown and the play was over. Another man on the same team claimed exemption from a penalty on the ground that he had slugged his opponent while out of bounds. He actually believed that we could not penalize for fouls off the playing field. The funniest appeal I ever had made to me was made by a player years ago who asked that time be taken out in order that he might change a perfectly good jersey for one of a different color. It seems he had lost his jersey and had borrowed one from a player on the home team. When I asked him why he wanted to change his jersey he replied because my own team are kicking the stuffing out of me and I must get a different colored jersey at times my teammates take me for an opponent. In a game where it was necessary to caution the players against talking too much to their opponents when particularly curious incident occurred. One team in order to give one of the larger College 11's a stiff practice game had put in the field two or three ringers. The big college team men were rather suspicious that their opponents were not entirely made up of bona fide students. A big tackle on the larger team made the following remark to a supposed ringer. I'll bet you five to one you cannot name the president of your college. The answer came back well old boy perhaps I can't but perhaps I can show you how to play tackle and that's all I'm here for. The Princeton Yale game of 1915 was one of the most bitterly contested in the history of football. Princeton was a strong favorite but Yale forced the fighting and had their opponents on the defensive almost from the beginning. Princeton's chances were materially hurt by a number of severe penalties which cost her considerably in excess of 100 yards. Each of the officials had a hand in the infliction of the penalties but the referee who happened to be Nate Tufts of Brown had of course to enforce them all by marking off the distance given to Yale and putting the ball in the proper place. In the evening after the game a number of football officials and others were dining in New York. In the party was a Princeton graduate who was introduced to Mr. Tufts the referee of the game of the afternoon. At the introduction the Princeton man remarked that when he was a boy he had read of Jesse James the McCoy brothers and other noted bandits and train robbers but that he took off his hat to Mr. Tufts as the king of them all. Ocuson a star player of Lehigh and prominent official recalls this game. In 1908 I umpired in a memorable game which took place at New Haven between Yale and Princeton which resulted in a victory for Yale 12 to 10. This was before any rule was inserted calling for the referee to notify the teams to appear on the field at the beginning of the second half. At that time a 10 minute intermission was allowed between the halves. The first half closed with the score 10 to 0 in favor of Princeton. At the end of about seven minutes Mike Thompson who was referee following the custom that had grown up although no rule required it left the field to notify the teams to return. When he came back I asked him if he had found them for on the old Yale field it was something of a job to locate the teams once they had passed through the gates. Mike said that they were in the field house on the other side of the baseball field and that he had called in to them. The Princeton players appeared in a minute or two but no sign of Yale. Finally getting suspicious Mike asked Bill Roper who was head coach at Princeton that year if the Yale team had been in the field house. The answer was no and we suddenly woke up to the fact that although time for the intermission had ended three or four minutes before the Yale team was not notified and furthermore no one knew where they were except that they were somewhere under the stands. There were many gates and to leave by one to search meant running a chance that the Yale team might appear almost immediately through another and then the game be further delayed by the absence of the referee. This being the case Mike had no choice but to do as he did namely send messengers through all gates. One of these messengers met the Yale team coming along under the stands. The coaches had decided that time must be up although none of them had kept a record of it and had started back finally without any notice. Eight minutes over the legal ten had been taken before they appeared on the field and Bill Roper was raging. As Yale won in the second half it was only natural that we officials were greatly censored by Princeton and Yale did not escape criticism yet the whole thing came from the fact that a custom had grown up of depending on the referee to find and bring the teams back to the field instead of each team either staying on the field or failing that taking the responsibility on themselves of getting back in time. Yale simply followed the usual custom and Mike was misled due to being told that both teams had gone to the field house by one of those ready volunteers who furnish information whether they know anything about the subject in hand or not. End of Chapter 20 Chapter 21a of Football Days This is a LibriVox recording. All LibriVox recordings are in the public domain. For more information or to volunteer please visit LibriVox.org. Recording by Mary Rodie. Football Days by William Edwards. Chapter 21a Crash of Conflict Part A The start of a football game is most exciting not alone for the players but for the spectators as well. Everyone is keyed up in anticipation of the contest. The referee's whistle blows. The ball is kicked off. The game has begun. Opponents now meet face to face on the field of battle. What happens on the gridiron is plainly seen by the spectators but it is not possible for them to hear the conversations which take place. There is much good nature joshing between the players which brings out the humorous as well as the serious side of the contest. In a game and during the hard days of practice many remarks are made which, if overheard, would give the spectators an insight into the personal human side of the sport. It behooves every team to make the most of the first five minutes of play. Every coach in the country will tell his team to get the charge on their opponents from the start. A good start usually means a good ending. From the sidelines we see the men put their shoulders to their work charging and pushing their opponents aside to make a hole in the line through which the man with the ball may gain his distance. Or we may see a man on the defensive full of grim determination to meet the oncoming charges of his opponent. As we glance at the accompanying picture of a Yale West Point game we will observe the earnest effort that is being made in the great game of football, the crash of conflict. One particularly amusing story is told about a former Lehigh player in a Princeton game several years ago. After the match had been in progress twenty minutes or more, says a Princeton man who played, we began to show a large number of bruises on our faces. This was especially the case with House Janeway whose opponent, a tackle, was a big Husky Lehigh player. Janeway finally became suspicious of the big Husky whose arms often struck him during the scrimmage. What have you got on your arm? shouted Janeway at his adversary. Never you mind, I'm playing my game, was the big tackle's retort. Janeway insisted that the game be stopped temporarily for an inspection. The Lehigh tackle demurred. Hector Cowan, whose face had suffered, backed up Janeway's demand. Have you anything on your arm? demanded the referee of the Lehigh player. My sleeve, was the curt reply. Well, turn up your sleeve, then. The big tackle was forced to comply with the official's request and disclosed a silver bracelet. Either take that off or go out of the game, was the referee's orders. But I promised a girlfriend that I would wear it through the match, protested Lehigh's tackle. I can't take it off, don't you understand? It was swished on. Well, I wish it off, the referee replied. This is no society affair. The big tackle objected to this, declaring he would sooner quit the game than be disloyal to the girl. Then you will quit, was the command of the umpire, and the big tackle left the field, a substitute taking his place. Luthor, a Cornell tackle, one of the best in his day, mentions a personal affair that occurred in the pen game in 1900 between Blondie Wallace and himself. Blondie's friends, when they read this, will think he had an off day in his general football courtesy. Luthor states, When I was trying to take advantage of my opponent, I was outwitted and was told to play on the square. I took Wallace's advice and never played a nicer game of football in my life. Just this little reprimand from an older player taught me a lot of football. In the Yale Brown game, back in 1898, Richardson, the wonderful Brown quarterback, received the ball on a double pass from Dave Fultz and ran sixty-five yards before he was downed by Charlie DeSals, the Yale quarterback, on Yale's five-yard line. When Richardson got up, he turned to DeSals and said, You fool, why did you tackle me? I lost a chance to be a hero. Yale, by the way, won that game by a score of eighteen to fourteen. Yoast relates a humorous experience he had at Michigan in 1901, which was his most successful season at that university. Buffalo University came to Michigan with a much heralded team. They were coached by a Dartmouth man and had not been scored upon. Buffalo papers referred to Michigan as the woolly westerners, and the Buffalo enthusiasts placed bets that Michigan would not score. The time regulation of the game, two halves, was thirty-five minutes without intermission. At the end of the first half the score was sixty-five to zero. During this time many substitutions had been made, some nineteen or twenty men, so that every player Buffalo brought with them had at one time or another participated in the game. The Buffalo coach came to me and said, Yoast, we will have to cut this next half short. Why? I asked. Of course he did not realize that every available man he had with him was used up, but I felt rather liberal at that stage of the game and said, Let them rest fifteen or twenty minutes for the intermission, and then use them over again. Use them as often as you like. I don't care. About fifteen minutes after the second half had started, I discovered on Michigan's side of the field, covered up in a blanket a big fellow named Simpson, one of the Buffalo players. I was naturally curious and said, Simpson, what are you doing over here? You're on the wrong side. Don't say anything, came the quick response. I know where I'm at. The coach has put me in three times already and I'm not going in there again. Enough is enough for any one. I've had mine. The score was then a hundred and twenty to zero in favor of Michigan, and the Buffalo team quit fifteen minutes before the game should have ended. It may be interesting to note that from this experience of Buffalo with Michigan, the expression, I've got you buffaloed, is set to have originated, and today Michigan players use it as a fighting word. Yoast's smile triumphantly as he related the following. The day we played the Michigan Agricultural College, we, of course, were at our best. The M.A.C. was taken on as a preliminary game, which was to be two twenty-minute halves. At the beginning of the second half, the score was a hundred and eighteen to zero in favor of Michigan. At this time a big husky tackle, after a very severe scrimmage had taken place, stood up, took off his headgear, threw it across the field, and started for the sideline, passing near where I was standing, when I yelled at him, the game is not over yet, go back. Oh, he said, we came down here to get some experience. I've had all I want. Let the other fellow stay if they want to, me for the dressing room. And when this fellow quit all the other M.A.C. players stopped, and the game ended right there. There were but four minutes left to play. Somebody circulated a rumor that Yoast had made the statement that Michigan would beat Iowa one year eighty to zero. Of course, this rumor came out in the papers on the day of the game, but Yoast says, I never really said any such thing. However, we did beat them a hundred and seven to zero, whereupon some fellow from Iowa sent me a telegram after the game, which read, ain't it awful, box their remains and send them home. In Tom Chevelin's year at Yale, 1902, Mike Sweeney, his old trainer and coach at Hill School, was in New Haven watching practice for about four days before the first game. Practice that day was a sort of survival of the fittest, for they were weeding out the backs who were doing the catching. About five backs were knocked out. A couple had been carried off with twisted knees, and still the coaches were trying for more speed and diving tackles. Tom had just obliterated a hundred and fifty pound half-back, who had lost the ball, the use of his legs and his varsity aspirations, all together. Stopped by Sweeney on his way back up the field, Tom remarked, Mike, this isn't football, it's war. A brown man tells the following interesting story. In a game that we were playing with some small college back in 1906 out on Andrews Field, Brown had been continually hammering one tackle for big gains. The ball was in the middle of the field, and time had been taken out for some reason or other. Huggins and Robbie were standing on the sidelines, and just as play was about to be resumed, Robbie noticed that the end on the opposing team was playing out about fifteen feet from his tackle and was standing near us when Robbie said to him, What's the idea? Why don't you get in there where you belong? The end's reply was, I'm wise. Do you think I'm a fool? I don't want to be killed. During a scrub game, the year that Brown had the team that trimmed Yale twenty-one to zero, Huggins says, Goldberg, a big guard who at that time was playing on the second eleven, kept holding Brent Smith's foot. Brent was a tackle, one of the best, by the way, that we ever had here at Brown. Smith complained to the coaches, who told him not to bother, but to get back into the game and play football. This he did, but before he settled down to business, he said to Goldberg, If you hold my foot again, I'll kick you in the face. About two plays had been run off when Smith once more shouted, He's holding me. Robbie went in back of him and said, Why didn't you kick him? Kick him, replied Brent, He held both my feet. Hardwick recalls another incident that has its share of humor which occurred in the Yale Bowl on the day of its questioning. Yale was far behind some thirty points, playing rather raggedly. They had possession of the ball on Harvard's one-yard line and were attempting a strong rushing attack in anticipation of a touchdown. They were meeting with little or no success in penetrating Pincock and Trumbull, backed by Bradley, and on the third down they were one yard farther away from the goal than at the start. They attempted another plunge on tackle and were using that uncertain form of offense, the direct pass. The center was a trifle mixed and passed to the wrong man with the result that Yale recovered the ball on Harvard's twenty-five-yard line. Wilson, then a quarter for Yale, turned to his center and asked him sharply, Why don't you keep track of the signals? In a flash the center rush turned and replied, How do you expect me to keep track of signals when I can hardly keep track of the touchdowns? Brown University was playing the Carlisle Indians some ten years ago at the polo grounds at New York City. Bemis Pierce, the Indian captain, called time just as a play was about to be run off and the Brown team continued in line while Holly Pierce, his brother, a tackle on the Indian team, complained in an audible voice that someone on the Brown team had been slugging him. Bemis walked over to the Brown line with his brother saying to him, Pick out the man who did it! Holly Pierce looked the Brunonians over, but could not decide which player had been guilty of the rough work. By this time the two minutes were up and the officials ordered play resumed. Bemis shouted to Holly, Now keep your eyes open and find out who it was, show him to me and after the game I'll take care of him properly. It is interesting to note that Bemis only weighed 230 pounds and his little brother tipped the scale at 210 pounds. In 1900 Brown played the University of Chicago at Chicago. During the second half, Bates, the Brown captain, was injured and was taken from the game and Shehan, a big tackle, was made temporary captain. At that time the score was six to six. Shehan called the team together and addressed them in this manner. Look here boys, we've got 13 minutes to play. Get in and play like hell. Every one of you make a touchdown. We can't beat them with ease. For many years the last statement was one of Brown's battle cries. Brown, by the way, won that game by a score of 12 to six. A former Brown man says that in a Harvard game some few years ago Brown had been steadily plowing through the crimson's left guard. Goldberg of the Brown team had been opening up big holes and Jake High, Brown's full back, had been going through for eight and ten yards at a time. Goldberg, who was a big stout fellow, not only was taking care of the Harvard guard, but was going through and making an endeavor to clean up the secondary defense. High occasionally when he had the ball, instead of looking where he was going, would run blindly into Goldberg and the play would stop dead. Finally after one of these experiences Jake cried out, Goldberg, if you would only keep out of my way I would make the All-American. In the same game, High, on a line plunge, got through, dodged the secondary defense and was finally brought down by Harvard's backfield man O'Flaherty. Jake always ran with his mouth wide open and O'Flaherty, who made a high tackle, was unfortunate enough to stick his finger in High's mouth. He let out a yell as Jake came down on it. What are you biting my finger for? High as quickly responded. What are you sticking it in my mouth for? Huggins of Brown says, The year that we beat Pennsylvania so badly out on Andrews Field, Brown had the ball on Penn's two yard line. Time was called for some reason, and we noticed that the backfield men were clustered about Crowther our quarterback. We afterwards learned that all four of the backfield wanted to carry the ball over. Crowther reached down and plucked three blades of grass and the half-backs and the full-back each drew one with the understanding that the one drawing the shortest blade could carry the ball. Much to their astonishment, they found that all pieces of grass were of the same length. Crowther, who made the All-American that year, shouted, You all lose, I'll take it myself. And over the line he went with the ball tucked away under his arm. Johnny Pohl was behind the door when fear went by, says Gary Cochran. Everyone knows of his wonderful courage. I remembered that in the Harvard 96 game at Cambridge, near the end of the first half, two of our best men, Ad Kelly and Sport Armstrong, were seriously hurt, which disorganized the team. The men were desperate and near the breaking point. Johnny, with his true Princeton spirit, sent this message to each man on the team. If you won't be beat, you can't be beat. This message brought about a miracle. It put iron in each man's soul, and never from that moment did Harvard gain a yard, and for four succeeding years, if you won't be beat, you can't be beat, was Princeton's battle cry. The good that Johnny did for Princeton teams was never heralded abroad. His work was noiseless, but always to the point. I remember the Indian game in 96. The score in the first half was six to zero in favor of the Indians. I believe they had beaten Harvard and Penn and tied Yale. There wasn't a word set in the clubhouse when the team came off the field, but each man was digging in his locker for a special pair of shoes which we had prepared for Yale. Naturally I was very bitter and refused to speak to any one. Then I heard the quiet, confident voice talking to Johnny Baird, who had his locker next to mine. I can't remember all he said, but this is the gist of his conversation. Johnny, you're backing up the center. Why can't you make that line into a fighting unit? Tell them their grandfathers licked a hundred better Indians than these fellows are, and it's up to them to show they haven't backbred. Johnny Baird carried out these orders, and the score 22 to 6, favoring Princeton, showed the result. Once more Johnny Bowe's brains lifted Princeton out of a hole. I could mention many cases where Johnny has helped Princetonians, but they are personal and could not be published. I can only say that when I lost Johnny Powe I lost one who can never be replaced, and I feel like a traitor because I was not beside him when he fell. Chapter 21 Crash of Conflict Part B of Football Days This is a LibriVox recording. All LibriVox recordings are in the public domain. For more information or to volunteer, please visit LibriVox.org. Recording by Coleman Shoe. Football Days by William Edwards. Chapter 21 Crash of Conflict Part B. Reinhardt tells how he tried to get even with Sam Boyle. I went into professional football after leaving Lafayette, says Reinhardt. I joined the Greensburg Athletic Club team at Greensburg, Pennsylvania, solely for the purpose of getting back at Sam Boyle, formerly of the University of Penn. He was playing on the Pittsburgh Athletic Club. When I asked Reinhardt why he wanted to get square with Sam Boyle, he said, for the reason that Sam, during the Penn Lafayette contest in 97, had acted in a very unsportsmanlike manner and kept telling his associates to kill the Lafayette men and not to forget what Lafayette did to them last year and a lot more. But possibly it was fortunate for Sam that he did not play in our Greensburg-Pittsburg Athletic Club game. I was ready to square myself for Lafayette. A lot of good football stories have been going around, some old, some new, but none of them better than the one Barkie Donald, afterward a member of the Harvard Advisory Football Committee, tells on himself in a game that Harvard played against the Carlisle Indians in 1896. It was the first time Harvard and Carlisle had met. Harvard winning four to zero and Donald played tackle against Bemis Pierce. Donald, none too gentle a player, for he had to fight every day against Burt Waters, then a coach, knew how to use his arms against the Indian and also when charging, how to do a little execution with his elbows and the open hand, just as the play was coming off. He was playing legitimately under the old game. He ruffed it with the big Indian and caught him hard several times. But finally Bemis Pierce had something to say. Mr. Donald, he said quietly, you have been hitting me and if you do it again I shall hit you. But Donald did not heed the warning and in the next play he bowled at Bemis harder than ever for extra measure. Still the Indian did not retaliate. But I thought I was hit by a sledgehammer the next scrimmage said Donald after the game. I remember charging but that was all. I was down and out but when I came to I somehow wobbled to my feet and went back against the Indian. I was so dazed I could just see the big fellow moving about and as we sparred off for the next play he said in a matter of fact tone, Mr. Donald, you hit me one, two, three times. I hit you only one or square and you bet we were squared Donald always adds as he tells a story. Tax Hardwick in common with most football players thinks the world of Eddie Mayhem. I have played football and baseball with Eddie, he says, and I'm naturally an ardent admirer of his ability, his keen wit, and his thorough sportsmanship. One of Eddie's greatest assets is his temperament. He seldom gets nervous. I have seen him with the bases full and with three balls on the batter turn about in the box and with a smile on his face wave the outfield back and then groove the ball waist high. Nothing worried him. His ability to avoid tacklers in the broken fields had always puzzled me. I had studied the usual methods quite carefully. Change of pace, reversing the field, spinning when tackled, etc. Most of the tricks I had given thought to but apparently Eddie relied little on these. He used them all instinctively but favored none. Charlie Brickley had a favorite trick of allowing his arm to be tackled flat against his leg. Then at the very moment his opponent thought he had him Charlie would wrench up his arm and break the grip. Percy Wendell used to bowl over the tackler by running very low. I relied almost exclusively on a straight arm and riding a man. This means that when a tackler comes with such force that a straight arm is not sufficient to hold him off and you know he will break through, you put your hand on the top of his head, throw your hips sharply away, and vault as you would over a fence rail using his head as a support. If he is coming hard his head has sufficient power to give you quite a boost and you can ride him a considerable distance, often four or five yards. When his momentum dies drop off and leave him. Well Eddie didn't use any of these. Finally I asked him how he figured on getting by the tackler and what the trick was he used so effectively. It's a cinch Eddie replied. All I do is poke my foot out at him. Give it to him. He goes to grab it and I take it away. Leo Leary had been giving the ends a talk on being KG. KG play is foxy such as never getting in the same position on every play moving about doing the unexpected. If you wish to put your tackle out play outside him and draw him out and then at the last moment hop in close to your own tackle and then charge your opponent. The reverse is true as well. The unexpected and unusual make up KG play. Much emphasis had been laid on this and we were all thoroughly impressed especially Weatherhead that year a substitute. Weatherhead's appearance and actions on the field were well adapted to KG play. Opponents could learn nothing by analyzing his expression. It seldom varied. His walk had a sort of tiptoe rolled to it much similar to the conventional stage villain inspecting a room before robbing a safe. In the course of the afternoon game Weatherhead put his coaching in practice. We had a habit practically every team has of shouting signal whenever a player did not understand the orders of the quarterback. Mal Logan had just snapped out of his signals when Al Weatherhead left his position casting furtive glasses at the opponents and tittoeing along like an Indian scout at his best the very personification of KG-ness Weatherhead approached Logan. Logan thinking Al had discovered some important weak spot in the defense leaned forward attentively. Weatherhead rolled up and carefully shielding his mouth with his hand asked in a stage whisper signal. A piece of thoughtfulness that expressed the spirit of the man who did it and also the whole team took place at the Algonquin Hotel at New London on the eve of the Harvard Yale game in 1914. The Algonquin is fundamentally a summer hotel although it is open all the year. The Harvard team had their headquarters there and naturally the place was packed with the squad and the numerous followers. Eddie Mayhan and I roomed together and in the room adjoining were Watson and Swigert two substitute quarterbacks folding doors separated the rooms and these had been flung open in the night it turned cold and the summer bedding was insufficient Swigert couldn't sleep he was so chilled so he got up and went in search of blankets he examined all the closets on that floor without success then he explored the floors above and below and finally went down to the night clerk and demanded some blankets of him after considerable delay he had tamed two thin blankets and thoroughly chilled from his walk in his bare feet returned to the room passing our door he spied Eddie curled up and shivering about half asleep. I was asleep but a cold uncomfortable sleep that is no real rest he walked in and placing one blanket over Eddie and one over me went back to his own bed colder than ever. I am a firm believer in rough rugged aggressive bruising football says hardwick the rougher the better if and only if it is legitimate and clean football I am glad to say that clean football has been prevalent in my experience only on the rarest occasions have I felt any unclean actions have been intentional and premeditated we have made it a point to play fierce hard and clean football and have nearly always received the same treatment in my freshman year however I felt that I had been wronged and foolishly I took it to heart since that time I have changed my mind as I have had an opportunity to know the player personally and my own observation and the general high reputation he has for sportsmanship have thoroughly convinced me of my mistake the particular playing question was in the Yale 1915 game we started a wide end run and I was attempting to take out the end I died at his knees but aimed too far in front falling at his feet he leaped in the air to avoid me and came down on the small of my back gouging me quite severely with his heel cleats I felt that it was unnecessary and foolishly resented it one of the most famous games in football was a Harvard Yale encounter at Springfield in 94 Bob Emmons was captain of the Harvard team and Frank Hinky captain of Yale this game was so severely fought that it was decided best to discontinue football relations between these two universities and no game took place until three years later Jim Rogers who was a substitute at Yale that year relayed some interesting incidents of that game in those old strenuous days they put so much fear of God in you it scared you so you couldn't play when we went up to Springfield we were all overtrained instead of putting us up at a regular hotel they put us up at the Christian workers that stag was interested in the bedrooms look like cells with a little iron bed and one lamp in each room says Jim you know after one is defeated he recalls these facts as terrible experiences none of us slept at all well that night and my knees were so stiff I could hardly walk Yale relied much on Fred Murphy Harvard had coached Hollowell to get Murphy excited Murphy was quick tempered if you got his goat he was pretty liable to use his hands and Harvard was anxious to have him put out of the game Hollowell went to his task with earnestness he got Murphy to the point of rage but Murphy had been up against Bill Odland who used to coach at Andover and Bill used to give you hell if you slugged when the umpire was looking but when his back was turned you could do anything Murphy stood about all he could and when he saw the officials were in a conference he gave Hollowell a backhander and dropped him like a brick his nose was flattened right over his cheekbone fortunately that happened on the Yale side of the field if it had happened on the Harvard side there would have been a riot there was some noise when that blow was delivered the whole crowd in the stands stood aghast and held its breath so Harvard laid for Murphy and in about two plays they got him how they got him we never knew but suddenly it was apparent that Murphy was gone the trainer finally helped Murphy up and the captain of the team told him in which direction his goal was he would break through just as fine and fast as before but the moment his head got down to a certain angle he would go down in a heap he was gained to the core however and he kept on going it was in this game that Ridington the halfback was injured though this never came out in the newspapers Ridington caught a punt and started back up the field in those days you could wriggle and score him all you wanted to and you could pile on a thousand strong if you like Frank Hinky was at the other end of the field playing wide and ready if Ridington should take a dodge Murphy called Ridington and he started to wriggle it was at this time that Lewis Hinky came charging down the field on a dead run and trying to prevent Ridington from advancing any further with the ball Lewis Hinky's knee hit Ridington and came down with a crash on his collarbone and neck Ridington gave one moan rolled over and fainted dead away Frank Hinky was not within 15 yards of the play and Lewis did it with no evil intention Frank thought that Ridington had been killed and he came over and took Lewis Hinky by the hand appreciating the severe criticism which was bound to be heaped upon his brother Lewis there was a fear and it was on everybody's tongue that Frank Hinky had purposely broken Ridington's collarbone Frank knew who did it but the silent Hinky never revealed the truth he protected his brother Yale took issue on the point and as a result the athletic relationship was suspended he was in this game that bronc Armstrong established a world's brief record for staying in the game he was on the field for 20 seconds then was ruled out I think that Frank Hinky is the greatest end that was ever on a field to my mind he never did a dirty thing but he tackled hard when Frank Hinky tackled the man he left him there in later years when I was coaching an old Harvard player who was visiting me came out to Yale field he had never seen Hinky play football but he had read much about him I pointed out several of the men to him such as Heffelfinger and others about his type all of whom measured up to his ideas and finally said where's that fellow Hinky and when I pointed Hinky out to him he said great guns Harvard complaining about that little shrimp I'm ashamed of Harvard Hinky was a wonderful leader every man that ever played under him worshiped him he had his team so buffaloed that they obeyed every order down to the most minute detail when Hinky entered Yale there were two corking end rushes in college Crosby and Josh Hartwell after about two weeks of practice there was no longer a question as to whether Hinky was going to make the team it was a question of which one of the old players was going to lose his job they called him Consumptive Hinky every football player great though he himself was in his prime has his great iron idol the man usually some years his elder who's exploits as a boy he has followed Joe Beacham's Paragon was and is Frank Hinky and the depth of esteem in which the former Cornell star held Hinky as well exemplified in the following incident which occurred on the Black Diamond Express eastbound as it was passing through Tanawanda New York Beacham had been dozing but a woken time to catch a glimpse of the signboard as a train flashed by leaning slightly forward he tapped a drummer upon the shoulder the salesman turned around take off your hat came the command why the salesman began take off your hat repeated Beacham the man did so thank you now put it on came the command the drummer summing up courage faced Beacham and said now will you kindly tell me why you asked me to do this Joe smiled with a satisfied feeling of an act well performed and said I told you to lift your hat because we are passing through the town where Frank Hinky was born later in the smoking room Joe heard the drummer discussing the incident with a crowd of fellow salesman and he said concluding what I'd like to know is who in the hell is Frank Hinky and late that evening when the train arrived in New York Joe Beacham and the traveling man had become the best of friends imparting Joe said if there's anything I haven't told you I'll write you about it sandy hunt a famous Cornell guard and captain says here is one on Bill Holland back the last year he played for Pennsylvania against Cornell Bill went into the game thoroughly fit but Mike Murphy then training the team was worried less to be injured in an early scrimmage Bill's ear was nearly ripped off blood flowed and Mike left the sidelines to aid Mike was waved away by Bill it's nothing but a scratch Mike let me get back in the game play was resumed following a scrimmage Mike saw Bill rolling on the ground in agony his ankle is gone close Mike as he ran out to the field leaning over Bill Mike said is it your ankle or knee Bill Bill writhing in agony gasp no somebody stepped on my corn hardwick has this to tell of the days when he coached at anapolis one afternoon at anapolis the varsity were playing a practice game or not playing to form or better possibly they were not playing as the coaches had reason to hope there was an indifference in their play and a lack of snap and drive in their work that roused head coach Ingram's fighting blood incidentally Ingram is a fighter from his feet up every inch as broad minded as he is broad shoulder and a keen student of football the constant letting up of play and the lack of fight annoyed him more and more at last a varsity player sat down and called for water immediately the cry was taken up by his teammates this was more than Ingram could stand out he dashed from the sidelines right into the group of players shaking his fist and shrieking water water what you need is fire and up water Fred Corleas tells a good story about Foster Sanford when he was coaching at West Point one of the most interesting institutions to coach is West Point even in football field practice the same military spirit is in control most of the coaches being officers only when a unique character like Sandy appears is the monotony shattered sandy is often humorous in his most serious moments one afternoon not many weeks before the navy game sandy as Corleas tells it was paying particular attention to Moss a guard whom Sanford tried to teach to play low Moss was very tall and had never appreciated the necessity of bending his knees and straightening his back Sanford disgusted with Moss as he saw him standing nearly erect in a scrimmage and sandy's voice would ring out stop the play Lieutenant Smith give Mr. Moss a sideline badge Moss if you want to watch this game put on a badge then everybody will know you've got a right to watch it in the silence of the parade ground those few words sounded like a trumpet for a Calvary charge but sandy accomplished his purpose and made a guard of Moss the day Princeton played Yale at New Haven in 1899 I had a brother on each side of the field one was Princeton class 1895 and the other was an undergraduate at Yale class of 1901 my brother Dick told me that his friends at Yale would joke him as to whether he would root for Yale or Princeton on November 25th of that year I did not worry for I had an idea a friend of his told me the following story a week after the game you had been injured in a mass play and were left alone for the moment laid out upon the ground no one seemed to see you as a play continued but dick was watching your every move and when he saw you were injured he voluntarily arose from the sea and rushed down the aisle to a place opposite to where you were and was about to go out on the field when the Princeton trainer rushed out upon the field and stood you on your feet and as dick came back he took a seat in the Yale grandstand Yale men knew then where his interest in the game lay after Arthur Poe had kicked his goal from the field Princeton men lost themselves completely and rushed out upon the field in the midst of the excitement I remember my brother George coming out and enthusiastically congratulating me end of chapter 21 crash of conflict part b chapter 22 of football days this is a LibriVox recording all LibriVox recordings are in the public domain for more information or to volunteer please visit LibriVox.org football days by William Edwards chapter 22 less we forget Marshall Newell there's no hero of the past whose name has been handed down in Harvard's football traditions as that of Marshall Newell he left many lasting impressions upon the men who came in contact with him the men that played under his coaching idolized him and this extended even beyond the confines of Harvard University this is borne out in the following tribute which is paid Newell by Herbert Reed that was on the Cornell scrub when Newell was their coach it is poignantly difficult even today years after what was to so many of us a very real tragedy says Reed to accept the fact that Marshall Newell is dead the ache is still as keen as on that Christmas morning when the brief news dispatches told us that he had been killed in a snowstorm on a railroad track at Springfield it requires no great summoning of the imagination to picture this fine figure of a man in heart and body so like his beloved Berkshire Oaks bending forward head down and driving into the storm in the path of the everyday duty that led him to his death it was as the world goes a short life but a fruitful one a life given over simply and without questioning to whatever work or whatever play was at hand to the vast crowds of lovers of football who journeyed to Springfield to see this Superman of sport in action in defense of his alma mater he will always remain as the personification of sportsmanship combined with the hard clean honest effort that marks your true football player to a great many others who enjoyed the privilege of adventuring a field with him the memory will be that of a man strong enough to be gentle of magnetic personality and yet with all with a certain reserve that is found only in men whose character is growing steadily under the urge of quiet introspection if for a man so self-contained he had much to give to those about him whether these were men already enjoying place and power or merely boys just on the horizon of a real man's life it was not so much the mere joy and exuberance of living as the wonder and appreciation of living that were the springs of Marshall Newell's being it was this that made him the richest poor man it was ever my fortune to know the world about him was to Newell rich in expression of things beautiful things mysterious things that struck in great measure awe and reverence into his soul a man with so much light within could not fail to shine upon others he had no heart for the city or the life of the city and for him too the quest of money had no attraction even before he went to school at Philip Exeter the character of this sturdy boy had begun to develop in the surroundings he loved throughout his life is it any wonder then that from the moment he arrived at school he became a favorite with his associates indeed at a very early stage something of an idol to the other boys he expressed an ideal in his very presence an ideal that was instantly recognized and true and just an ideal unspoken but an ideal lived just what that ideal was may perhaps be best understood if i quote a word or two from that little diary of his never intended for other eyes but privileged now a quotation that has its own little delicate touch of humor in conjunction with the finer phrases there's a fine selection from Carmen to whistle on a load of logs when driving over a frozen ground every jolt gives a delightful emphasis to the notes and the musician is carried along by the dictatorial leader as it were what a strength there is in the air it may be rough at times but it is true and does not lie what would be the world if all were open and frank as the day or the sunshine i want to record certain impressions made upon a certain freshman at Cornell where their new all went to coach the football team after his graduation from harvard those impressions are as fresh today as they were in the scarlet and gold autumn years ago here is a man built like a bowl of a tree a light with fire determination love of sport and hunger for the task in hand he was no easy task master but always a just one many a young man of that period will remember as i do the grinding day's work when everything seemed to go wrong when mere discouragement was gradually giving way to actual despair when somewhat clogged with mud and dust and blood he felt a sudden slap on the back and heard a cheery voice saying good work today keep it up playing hard football himself new old demanded hard football of his pupils i wish indeed that some of the players of today who grown over a few minutes session with the soft tackling dummy of these times could see that hard soul leather tackling dummy swung from a joist that went clear through it and armed with the shield that hit one over the head when he did not get properly down to his work that newell used it was grinding work this but through it one learned that ancient and battered dummy is stowed away a forgotten relic of the old days in the gymnasium at Cornell there are not a few of us who when returning to Ithaca hunted up to do it reverence let him for a moment transfer his allegiance to the scrub 11 and in that moment the varsity team knew that it was in a real football game there were hard days indeed on the Percy field but good ones i have seen newell play single-handed against one side of the varsity line tear up the interference like a whirlwind and bring down his man many of us have played in our small way on the scrub when for purposes of illustration newell occupied some point in the varsity line we knew then what would be on top of us the instant the ball was snapped yet when the heap was at its thickest newell would still be in the middle of it or at the bottom as the case might be still working and still coaching both in his coaching at Harvard and at Cornell he developed men whose names will not be forgotten while the game endures and some of these developments were in the nature of 11th hour triumphs for skill and forceful yet nonetheless sympathetic personality after all despite his remarkable work as a gridiron player and tutor I like best to think of him as newell the man I like best to recall those long sunday afternoons when he walked through the woodland paths and the two big gorges over the fields at ithica and company much of the time with not the captain of the team not the star half back not the great forward but some young fellow fresh from school who is still down in the rock of the squad more than once he called it now one now with another fraternity house and hailed us where is that young freshman that is out for my team I would like to have him take a little walk with me and these walks incidentally had little or nothing to do with football there were great opportunities for the little freshman who wanted to get closer to the character of the man himself no flower no bit of moss no striking patch of foliage escaped his notice for he loved them all and he loved to talk about them one felt returning from these impromptu rambles that he'd been spending valuable time in that most wonderful church of all the great outdoors and spending it with no casual interpreter memories of those days in the sharp practice on the field grow dim but these others I know will always endure this I know because no month passes indeed is almost to say hardly a week year in and year out in which they are not insistently resurgent marshal newell was born in clifton new jersey on April 2nd 1871 his early life was spent largely on his father's farm in great barrington massachusetts that farm and countryside which seemed to mean so much to him in later years he entered philip exeter academy in the fall of 1887 and was graduated in 1890 almost a once he achieved utterly without effort a popularity rare in its quality because of his relation with his schoolmates and his unauthenticious way of looking after the welfare of others he soon came to be known as ma newell and this affectionate sober came not only clung to him through all the years at exeter at harvard but followed him after graduation with or so ever he went while at school he took up athletics ardently as he always took up everything thus he came up to harvard with an athletic reputation ready made it was not long before the class of 94 began to feel that subtler influence of character that distinguished all his days he was a member of the victorious football 11 of 1890 and of the winning crew of 1891 both in his freshman year he also played on the freshman football team and on the university team of 91 92 93 and rode on the varsity crews of 92 and 93 in the meantime he was gaining not only the respect and friendship of his classmates but those of his instructors as well socially and despite the fact that he was little endowed with the world's goods he enjoyed a remarkable popularity he was a member of the institute of 1770 dicky hasty pudding and signet in addition he was the unanimous choice of his class for second marshal on class day many other honors he might have had if he had cared to seek them he accepted only those that were literally forced upon him in the course of his college career who returned each summer to his home in great barrington and quietly resumed his work on the farm after graduation he was a remarkably successful football coach at cornell university and was also a vast help at preparing harvard 11's his annual appearance in the fall at cambridge was always the means of putting fresh heart and confidence in the crimson players he turned to railroading in the fall of 1896 acting as assistant superintendent of the springfield division of the boston and albany railroad here as at college he made a profound personal impression on his associates the end came on that evening of December 24th in 1897 in a memorial from his classmates and friends the following significant paragraph appears marshal knew will belong to the whole university he cannot be claimed by any click or class let us his classmates simply express our gratitude that we have had the privilege of knowing him and of observing his simple grand life we rejoice in memories of comradeship we deeply mourn our loss to those whose affliction has been even greater than our own we extend our sympathy this memorial was signed by bircham gordon waters lincoln davis and george c lee jr for the class men who knew him well harvard men i feel sure will forgive me if i like to believe that newell belonged not merely to the whole harvard university but every group of men that came under his influence whether the football squad at cornell or the humble trackwalkers of the boston and albany remains i think little more for me to say and this can best be said in newell's own words selections from that dire of which i have already spoken and which set the stamp on the character of the man for all time this for instance it is amusing to notice the expression in the faces of the horses on the street as you walk along how much they resemble people not in feature but in spirit some are cross and snap it men who pass others asleep and some will almost thank you for speaking to them or patting their noses and this in more serious vein happen to think how there was a resemblance in water in our spirits or rather in their sources some people are like springs always bubbling over with freshness in life other are wells and have to be pumped while some are only reservoirs whose spirits are pumped in and they're stagnate unless drawn off immediately most people are like the wells but the pump handle is not always visible or may be broken off many of the springs are known only to their shady nooks and velvet marshes but once found the path is soon worn to them which constantly widens and deepens it may be used only by animals but it is a blessing and comfort if only to the flowers and grasses that grow on its edge serious as this man was there are glints and gleams of quite humor throughout this remarkable human document one night in may he wrote stars and moon are bright this evening frogs are singing in the meadow and the fireflies are twinkling over the grass by the spring tree toads have been singing today set two hens tonight nailed them in if you want to see determination look in a setting hens eye robins have been carrying food to their nests in the pine trees and the barn swallows fighting for feathers in the air the big barn is filled with their conversation in the city he missed as he wrote the lights upon the hills again the stars are the eyes of the sky the sun sets like a god bowing his head pine needles catch the light that is streamed through them for a hundred years the wind drives the clouds one day is if they were waves of crusted brown where indeed in the crowded city streets was he to listen to the language of leaves and how indeed feel the colors of the west it is not possible that something more even than the example and influence of his character was lost to the world in his death what possibilities were there not in store for a man who could feel and write like this grand thunderstorm this evening vibration shook the house and the flashes of lightning were continuous for a short time it is authority and majesty personified and one instinctively bows in its presence not with a feeling of dread but of admiration and respect it was in the thunder and shock and blaze of just such a storm that i stood not long ago among his own berkshire hills hoping thus prepare myself by pilgrimage for this halting but earnest tribute to a grand hearted gentleman who in his quiet way meant so much to so many of his fellow humans walter b street w l saltel of williams who knew this great player in his playing days writes as follows no williams contemporary of walter bullard street can forget two outstanding facts of his college his immaculate personal character and his undisputed title to first rank among the football men who williams has developed he was idealized because of his athletic prowess he was loved because he was every inch a man his personality lifted his game from the level of an intercollegiate contest to the plane of a man's expression of loyalty to his college and his supremacy on the football field gave a new dignity to the undergraduates ideals of true manhood his name is indelibly written in the athletic annals of williams and his influence apparently cut off by his early death is still a vital force among those who cheered his memorable gains on the grid iron and those who admired him for his virile character w d osgood gone from among us is that great old-time hero win osgood in this chapter of thoroughbreds let us read the tribute george woodruff pays him when my thoughts turn to the scores of fine manly football players i have known intimately win osgood claims if not first place at least a unique place among my memories as a player he has never been surpassed in his specialty of making long and brilliant runs not only around but through the ranks of his opponents after one of his 70 or 80 yard runs his path was always marked by a zigzag line of opposing tacklers just collecting their wits and slowly starting to get up from the ground none of them was ever hurt but they seemed temporarily stunned as though when they struck osgood's mighty legs they received an electric shock while at cornell in 1892 osgood made by his own prowess two to three touchdowns against each of the strong yale harvard and princedon 11's and in the harvard pennsylvania game at philadelphia in 1894 he thrilled the spectators with his runs more than i have seen any man do in any other one game but i would belittle my own sense of osgood's real worth if i can find myself to expatiating on his brilliant physical achievements his moral worth and gentle bravery were to me the chief points in him that arouse true admiration when i as coach of the penns football team discovered that osgood had quietly matriculated at pennsylvania without letting anybody know of his intention i naturally cultivated his friendship in order to get from him his value as a player but i found that he was of even more value as a moral force among the players and students in this way he helped me as much as by his play because to my mind a football team is good or bad according to whether the bad elements or the good both of which are in every set of men predominate in the winter of 1896 osgood nearly persuaded me to go with him on his expedition to help the cubans and i've often regretted not having been with him through that experience he went as a major of artillery to be sure but not for the title nor the adventure only but i am sure for the love of freedom and overwhelming sympathy for the oppressed he said to me the cubans may not be very lovely but they are human and their cause is lovely when osgood with almost foolhardish bravery sat his horse directing his dilapidated artillery fire in cuba and this conspicuous made himself even more marked by wearing a white sombrero he was not playing the part of a fool he was following his natural impulse to exert a moral force on his comrades who could not understand little but liberty and bravery when the angel of death gave him the accolade of nobility by touching his brow in the form of a mouser bullet win osgood simply welcomed his friend by gently breathing well a typical word of the man and even in death as reported continued to sit erect upon his horse end of chapter 22 part a chapter 22 of football days this is a libra vox recording all libra vox recordings are on the public domain for more information or to volunteer please visit libravox.org recording by chris karan football days by william edwards chapter 22 less we forget part b gordon brown there are many young men who lost a true friend when gordon brown died he was their ideal after his college days were over he became very much interested in settlement work on the east side in new york he devoted much of his time after business to this great work which still stands as a monument to him he was as loyal to it as he was to football when he played at yale gordon brown's career at yale was a remarkable one he was captain of the greatest football team yale ever had whenever the 1900 team is mentioned it is spoken of as gordon brown's team the spirit of this great thoroughbred still lives at yale still lives at grotton school where he spent six years he was captain there and leader in all the activities in the school he was one of the highest type college men i have ever known he typified all the best there was in yale he was strong mentally as well as physically it was my pleasure to have played against him in two yale princeton games 98 and 99 i have never known a finer sportsman than he he played the game hard and he played it fair he had nothing to say to his opponents in the game he was there for business always urging his fellow players on to better work everyone who knew this gallant leader had absolute confidence in him all admired and loved him there was no one at yale who was more universally liked and acknowledged as a leader in all the relations of the university than was gordon brown the influence of such a man cannot but live as a guide and inspiration for all that is best at yale university gordon brown's name will live in song and story there were with him yale men not less efficient in the football sense as witnessed the following a yale song verse from the yale daily news november 16th 1900 jimmy ware and gordon brown finke and stillman gaining round olcott in the center stands with perry hayle as a battering ram no hope for princeton james j hogan the boys who were at exciter when that big raw bone fellow jim hogan entered there will tell of the noble fight he made to get in education he worked with his hands early and late to make enough money to pay his way his effort was a splendid one he was never idle and was an honor man for the greater part of his stay at school he found time to go out for football however and turned out to be one of the greatest players for that ever went to exciter jim hogan was one of the highest type of exciter men held up as an example of what an exciter boy should be his spirit still lives in the school and speaking of hogan recently professor ford of exciter said whenever hogan played football his hands were always moving in the football line it was almost like that in the classroom always on the edge of a seat fighting for every bit of information that he could get and determined to master any particularly difficult subject it was interesting and almost amusing at times to watch him one could not help respecting such earnestness he possessed great powers of leadership and there was never any question as to his sincerity and perfect earnestness he was not selfish but always trying to help his fellow students accomplish something his influence among the boys was thoroughly good and he held positions of honor and trust from the time of his admission jim was hungry for an education eager to forge ahead his whole college career was an earnest endeavor he never knew what it was to lose heart letting go had no part with his life jim was a physical marvel his 206 pounds of bone and muscle counted for much in the Yale rush line members of the faculty considered him the highest type of Yale man and it is said that president headley of Yale once referred to 1905 as hogan's class as a football player jim had few equals he was captain of the Yale team in his senior year and was picked by the expert as an all-american tackle jim hogan at his place in the Yale rush line was a sight worth seeing with his jersey sleeves rolled up above his elbows and a smile on his face he would break into the opposing line smash up the interference and throw the backs for a loss i can see him rushing the ball scoring touchdowns making holes in the line doing everything that a great player could do and urging on his teammates harder Yale hard harder Yale he was a hard strong cheerful player that is he was cheerful as long as the other men fought fair great was jim hogan to work with him shoulder to shoulder was my privilege to know him was to love honor and respect him jim spent his last hours in new haven and later in a humble home on the hillside in torrington connecticut surrounded by loving friends and the individual pictures of that strong gordon brown team hanging on the wall above him a loving coterie of friends said goodbye many a boy out of college realizes that he owes a great deal to the brotherly spirit of jim hogan thomas j chevlin there is a college tradition which embodies the thought that a man can never do as much for the university as the university has done for him but in that great athletic victory of 1915 when Yale defeated princeton at new haven i believe tom chevlin came nearer upsetting that tradition than anyone i know of he contributed as much as as any human being possibly could to the university that brought him forth tom chevlin's undergraduate life at new haven was not all strewn with roses but he was glad always to go back when requested and put his shoulder to the wheel the request came usually at a time when yale's football was in the slaw of despond he was known as yale's emergency coach tom chevlin had nerve he must have been full of it to tackle the great job which was put before him in the fall of 1915 willingly did he respond and great was a reward when i saw him in new york on his way to new haven i told him what a great honor i thought it was for yale to single him out from all her coaches at this critical time to come back and try to put the yale team in shape it did not seem either to enthuse or worry him very much he said i just got a telegram for mike sweeney to wait and see him in new york before going to new haven i suppose he wants to advise me not to go and tackle the job but i'm going just the same yale can't be much worse off for my going than she is today the result of chevlin's coaching is well known to all and i shall always remember him after the game when that contented happy look upon his face as i congratulated him while he stood on a bench in front of the yale stand watching the yale undergraduates carry their victorious team off the field walter camp stood in the distance and chevlin yelled to him well how about it walter this victory will go down in yale's football history as an almost miraculous event here was a team beaten in many times by small colleges humiliated and frowned upon not only by yale but by the entire college world they presented themselves in the yale bowl ready to make their last stand as for princeton it seemed only a question as to how large her score would be men had gone to cheer for princeton who for many years had looked forward to a decisive victory over yale the game was already bottled up before it started but when yale's future football history is written when captain and coaches talk to the team before the game next year when mass meetings are called to arouse college spirit at banquets where victorious teams are the heroes of the occasion someone will stand forth and tell the story of the great fighting spirit that captain wilson and his gallant team exhibited in the yale bowl that november day although tom chevlin the man that made it possible is now dead his memory at yale is sacred and will live long many will recall his wonderful playing his power of leadership his yale captaincy his devotion to yale at a time when he was most needed if in the last game against harvard the team that fought so wonderfully well against princeton could not do the impossible and defeat the great hoton machine it was not chevlin's fault it simply could not be done it lessons in not the slightest degree the tribute that we pay to tom chevlin francis h viewer ham fish was a great harvard player in his day when his playing days were over walter camp paid him the high tribute of placing him on the all-time all-american team at tackle fish played at harvard in 1907 and 1908 and was captain of the team in 1909 i know of no harvard man who is in a better position to pay a tribute to francis beer whose spirit still lives at cambridge than ham fish they were teammates and when in 1908 beer remained on the sidelines on account of injuries ham fish was the acting harvard captain fish tells us the frowning regarding beer francis beer was of gigantic frame standing six feet three and agile as a young mountain lion he weighed 200 pounds the incoming class of 1905 was signalized by having this man who came from and over he stood out above his fellows not only in athletic prowness but in all around mainly qualities both mental and moral beer had no trouble in making a place on the varsity team at card he was a punter of exceeding worth in the year of 1908 he was captain of the harvard team and brought the most inestimable service to harvard athletics by securing percy hotten as head coach hook spear was primarily responsible for hotten and the abundance of subsequent victories just when beer's abilities as player and captain were most needed he dislocated his collarbone in practice i shall never forget the night before the yield game how beer who had partially recovered and was very anxious to play reluctantly and unselfishly yielded to the coaches who insisted that he should not incur the risk of a more serious break harvard won that day the first time in seven years and a large share of the credit should go to the injured leader we were all happy over the result but none of us were as happy as he stricken with pneumonia while attending the harvard law school in 1910 he died leaving a legacy full of encouragement and inspiration to all harvard men he exemplified in his life the golden rule do unto others as you would have them do unto you of him can be truly said his life was gentle as a whole and the elements so mixed in him that nature might stand up and say to all the world he was a man neil snow the university of michigan never graduated a man who was more universally loved than neil snow what he did and the way he did it has become a tradition at michigan he was idolized by everyone who knew him as a player and captain he set a wonderful example for his men to pattern after he was a powerful player possessing such determination and fortitude that he would go through a stone wall if he had to he was their great all-around athlete good in football baseball and track he had the unique record of winning his michigan m12 times during his college course at an arbor he played his last game of football at asadina california neil was very fond of exercise he believed in exercise and when a word was sent out that neil snow had gone it was found that he had just finished playing in a game of rackets in detroit and before the flush and zest were entirely gone the last struggle and participation in athletic contests for neil snow were over it was my experience to have been at an arbor in 1900 when biffy lee coached the michigan team it was at this time that i met neil snow who was captain of the team and when i grew to know him i soon realized how his great quiet modest though wonderful personality made everybody idolize him modesty was his most noticeable characteristic he was always the last to talk of his own athletic achievements he believed in action more than in words after his playing days were over he made a great name for himself as an official in the big games the larger colleges in the east had come to realize with what great efficiency neil snow acted as an official and his services were eagerly sought neil snow loved athletics he often referred to his college experiences his example was one held up as ideal among the men who knew him when billy banner died johnny poll wrote to mrs banner a letter a portion of which follows i greatly enjoy thinking of those glorious days in the fall of 95 96 and 97 when i was coaching at princeton and saw so much of billy and if i live to ripe old age i do not think i shall forget how he and ed kelly came on in the Yale game of 95 and with the score of 16 and all against us started in by steadily rushing the ball up to and over the Yale goal and after the kickoff once more started on the march for another touchdown it was a superb excavation of nerve in the face of almost certain defeat and showed a spirit that would not be downed and i have often thought of this game in different far off parts of the world while Yale finally won 20 to 10 still billy showed the same spirit that ferragut showed when told that the river was filled with torpedoes and that it would be suicidal to proceed he replied damn the torpedoes full steam ahead i love to think of billy's famous 50 yard run for a touchdown through the harvard team in 96 at cambridge when the score had been a tie and how he with ed kelly and johnny baird went through the Yale team in that 96 game and ran the score up to 24 representing five touchdowns never before had a Yale team been driven like chaff before the wind as that blue team was driven billy bannard and ad kelly's names were always coupled in their playing days at princeton these two halfbacks were great teammates when bill bannard died ad kelly lost one of his best friends in ad kelly's recollections we read whenever i think of my playing days i always recall the harvard princeton game of 1896 and with it comes a tribute to one of us who has passed to the great beyond one with whom i played side by side for three years bill bannard i always thought that in this particular game he never received the credit do him in my opinion his run on that memorable day was the best i have ever seen his running and dodging and his excellent judgment had no superior in the football annals of our day in speaking of great individual plays that have won close games his name should go down with charlie dally clint whitecloth arthur poe snake aims and dudley dean for with writer's splendid interference in putting out the harvard left end billy bannard's touchdown gave prince in the confidence to carry her to victory that day and to the ultimate championship two weeks later harry hooper when harry hooper one of dartmouth's greatest players was taken away every man who knew hooper felt it a great personal loss those who had seen him play at xeter and there formed his acquaintance and later at dartmouth saw him develop into the mighty center rush of the 1903 dartmouth team idolized him c e bolster of dartmouth who knew him well says harry hooper was a great center on a great team the success of his 11 was due to its good fellowship and teamwork the central figure was the idol of his fellow players such as hooper shortly after the football season that year he was operated upon for a pen did titus and it soon became evident that he could not recover he was told of his plate he bravely faced the inevitable and expressed the wish that if he really had to go he might have with him at the last his comrades of the football field these teammates rallied at his request they surrounded him they talked the old days over and supported by those with whom he had fought for the glory of his college this real hero passed into the great beyond and deep down in the traditions of dartmouth and exeter the name of harry hooper is incredibly written the game of football is growing old the ranks of its heroes are being slowly but surely thinned the players are retiring from the game of life some old and some young the list might go on indefinitely there are many names that deserve mention but this cannot be the list of thoroughbreds is a long one yours must be a silent tribute dr andre j mcosh ned peace gud holly dudley rigs harry brown simus bill black pringle jones jerry mccally jim roads bill schwarz frank peters george stillman h shoalcloth wilson of the navy and burn of the army eddieward albert rosengarden mcclung dudley and matthews richard harding davis and matthew mcclung were two lehigh men whose position in the football world was most prominent the steam in which they are held by their alma mater is enduring i had talked with dick davis when this book was in its infancy he was very much interested and asked that i write him a letter outlining what i would like to have him send me just before he died i received this letter from him i regret he did not live to tell the story he had in mind handwritten letter richard harding davis moat kisco new york april second my dear edwards yes indeed as soon as i finish something i am at work on i'll think back and write you some memoirs with all good wishes his interest in football had been a keen one he was one of the leaders at lehigh who first organized that university's football team he was a truly remarkable player what he did in football was well known to men of this day he loved the game he wrote about the game he did much to help the game end of chapter twenty two lest we forget part b recording by chris caron chapter twenty three of football days this is a liverbox recording all liverbox recordings are in the public domain for more information or to volunteer please visit liverbox.org recording by patty cunningham football days by william edwards chapter twenty three aloha hayland farewell crowded by the hawaiians into one pregnant word would that this message might mean as much in his little compass i can promise only brevity and all that brevity means in so vast a matter as football to a man who would love nothing better than to talk on forever we know that football has really progressed and improved and that the boys of today are putting football on a higher plane than it has ever been on before we are a progressive sporting public gone are the old fifth avenue horse buses that used to carry them into the field of battle gone too are the fifth avenue hotel and the hofman house with their recollections of great victories fittingly celebrated the old water bucket and sponge with which trainer jim robinson used to rush upon the field to freshen up a tired player are now things of the past today we have the spectacle of pooch donovan giving the harvard players water from individual sanitary drinking cups the old block game is no more heavy mass play has been opened up today there is something for the public to see something interesting to watch at every point something significant in every move as a result greatly increased multitudes witness the game no longer do football enthusiasts stand behind ropes on the sidelines the popularity of the game has made it necessary to build huge stadia for the sport to take the place of the old wooden stands college games for the most part nowadays are played on college grounds accordingly the sport has been withdrawn from the miscellaneous multitude and confined to the field where it really belongs and the spirit of the game is now just what it should be exclusively collegiate best of all the modern style of play has made the game more than ever a heroic seesaw with one side uppermost for a time only to jar the very ground with the shock of its fall yet victorious or defeated the spirit through it all is one of splendid and overflowing college enthusiasm while there is a bounding joy in an unforeseen or hard-won victory there is also much that is inspirational in the sturdy courageous devoted support of college mates in the hour of defeat Isaac H. Bromley Yale 53 once summed up eloquently the spirit of college life and sport in the following words these contests and these triumphs are not all there is of college life but they are a not an important part of it the best education the most useful training come not from the classroom and from books but from the attrition of mind on mind from the wholesome emulation engendered by a common aim and purpose from the wedding of wits by good-natured rivalry the inspiration of youthful enthusiasm the blending together of all of us in undying love for our common mother as to the future we may not expect this unbroken round of victories to go on forever we shall need sometimes more than the inspiration of victory the discipline of defeat and it will come someday our champions will not last forever sometimes stag must make his last home run and camp his final touchdown someday bob cook will hear the dip of the golden oars and pass from sight with the boatman pale it would be too much to think that all their successors will equally succeed it might be monotonous but of one thing we may be assured that whatever happens we shall never fail to extend the meat of praise to the victors we shall be hereafter as in the past we have always been a stout in adversity as we have been merry in sunshine then strip lads into it though sharp be the weather and if by mischants you should happen to fall there are worse things in life than a tumble on heather and life is itself but a game of football end of chapter 23 recording by patty cunningham end of football days by william edwards