Sam White's runSAM WHITE'S RUN
It was up to Eddie Hart with his supreme personality and indomitable spirit, which has always characterized him from the day he entered Exeter until he forged his way to the leadership of one of Princeton's finest elevens to bring home the long deferred championship. When the final whistle rang down the football curtain for the season of 1911 it found Hart in the ascendancy having fulfilled the wonderful promise of his old Exeter days. For he had made good indeed.
Yale and Harvard had been beaten through a remarkable combination of team and individual effort in which Sam White's alertness and DeWitt's kicking stood out; a combination which was made possible only through Hart's splendid leadership.
At a banquet for this championship team given by the Princeton Club of Philadelphia, Lou Reichner, the toastmaster, in introducing Sam White, the hero of the evening, quoted from First Samuel III, Chapter ii, 12th and 1st verses—"And the Lord said unto Samuel, behold I will do a thing in Israel, at which both the ears of every one that heareth it shall tingle. In that day I will perform against Eli, all things which I have spoken concerning his house; when I begin I will also make an end. And The Child Samuel ministered unto the Lord Eli." Mr. Reichner then presented to the Child Samuel the souvenir sleeve links and a silver box containing the genuine soil from Yale Field.
After Sam had been sufficiently honored, Alfred T. Baker, Princeton '85, a former Varsity football player, and his son Hobey Baker, who played on Eddie Hart's team, were called before the toastmaster. There was a triple cheer for Hobey and his father. Reichner said that he had nothing for Papa Baker, but a souvenir for Hobey, and if the father was man enough to take it away from him he could have it.
In speaking of the Yale-Princeton game at New Haven, some of the things incidental to victory were told that evening by Sam White, who said:
"In the Yale game of 1911, Joe Duff, the Princeton guard, came over to Hart, Captain of the Princeton team, and said:
"'Ed, I can't play any more. I can't stand on my left leg.'
"'That's all right,' answered Hart, 'go back and play on your right one.'
"Joe did and that year he made the All-American guard.
"It was less than a week before the Harvard-Princeton game at Princeton, 1911, a friend of mine wrote down and asked me to get him four good seats, and said if I'd mention my favorite cigar, he'd send me a box in appreciation. I gotthe seats for him, but it was more or less of a struggle, but in writing on did not mention cigars. He sent me a check to cover the cost of the tickets and in the letter enclosed a small scarf pin which he said was sure to bring me luck. He had done quite a little running in his time and said it had never failed him and urged me to be sure and put it in my tie the day of the Harvard-Princeton game. I am not superstitious, but I did stick it in my tie when I dressed that Saturday morning and it surely had a charm. It was in the first half that I got away for my run, and as we came out of the field house at the start of the second half, whom should I see but my friend, yelling like a madman—
"'Did you wear it? Did you wear it?'
"I assured him I did, and it seemed to quiet and please him, for he merely grinned and replied:
"'I told you! I told you!'
"After the game I said nothing of the episode, but did secretly decide to keep the pin safely locked up until the day of the Yale-Princeton game. I again stuck it in my tie that morning and the charm still held, and I am still wondering to this day, if it doesn't pay to be a little bit superstitious."
Every Harvard man remembers vividly the great Crimson triumph of 1915 over Yale. It will never be forgotten. During the game I sat on the Harvard side lines with Doctor BillyBrooks, a former Harvard captain. He was not satisfied when Harvard had Yale beaten by the score of 41 to 0, but was enthusiastically urging Harvard on to at least one or two more touchdowns, so that the defeat which Yale meted out to Harvard in 1884, a game in which he was a player, would be avenged by a larger score, but alas! he had to be satisfied with the tally as it stood.
A story is told of the enthusiasm of Evert Jansen Wendell, as he stood on the side lines of this same game and saw the big Crimson roller crushing Yale down to overwhelming defeat. This enthusiastic Harvard graduate cried out:
"'We must score again!'
"Another Harvard sympathiser, standing nearby, said:
"'Mr. Wendell, don't you think we have beaten them badly enough? What more do you want?'
"'Oh, I want to see them suffer,' retorted Wendell."
After this game was over and the crowd was surging out of the stadium that afternoon I heard an energetic newsboy, who was selling theHarvard Lampoon, crying out at the top of his voice:
"'Harvard Lampoonfor sale here. All about the New Haven wreck.'"
Eddie Mahan
There is no question that the American game of football will go on for years to come. If thefuture football generals develop a better all-around man than Eddie Mahan, captain of the great Harvard team of 1915, whose playing brought not only victory to Harvard but was accompanied by great admiration throughout the football world, they may well congratulate themselves. From this peerless leader, whose playing was an inspiration to the men on his team, let us put on record, so that future heroes may also draw like inspiration from them, some of Mahan's own recollections of his playing days.
"I think the greatest game I ever played in was the Princeton game in 1915, because we never knew until the last minute that we had won the game," says the Crimson star. "There was always a chance of Princeton's beating us. The score was 10 to 6. I worked harder in that game than in any game I ever played.
"Frank Glick's defensive work was nothing short of marvelous. He is the football player I respect. He hit me so hard. The way I ran, it was seldom that anybody got a crack at me. I would see a clear space and the first thing I knew Glick would come from behind somewhere, or somebody, and would hit me when I least expected it, and he usually hit me good and hard. It seemed sometimes that he came right out of the ground. I tell you after he hit me a few times he was the only man I was looking for; I did not care much about the rest of the team.
"One of the things that helped me most in mybackfield play was Pooch Donovan's coaching. He practiced me in sprints, my whole freshman year. He took a great interest in me. He speeded me up. I owe a great debt of gratitude to Pooch. I could always kick before I went to Harvard, back in the old Andover days. I learned to kick by punting the ball all the afternoon, instead of playing football all the time. I think that is the way men should learn to kick. The more I kicked, the better I seemed to get."
Among the many trophies Eddie Mahan has received, he prizes as much as any the watch presented to him by the townspeople of Natick, his home town, his last year at Andover, after the football season closed. He was attending a football game at Natick between Natick High and Milton High.
"It was all a surprise to me," says Eddie. "They called me out on the field and presented me with this watch which is very handsomely inscribed.
"Well do I recall those wonderful days at Andover and the games between Andover and Exeter. There is intense rivalry between these two schools. Many are the traditions at Andover, and some of the men who had preceded me, and some with whom I played were Jack Curtis, Ralph Bloomer, Frank Hinkey, Doc Hillebrand and Jim Rodgers. Then there was Trevor Hogg, who was captain of the Princeton 1916 team, Shelton, Red Braun, Bob Jones.The older crowd of football men made the game what it is at Andover. Lately they have had a much younger crowd. When I was at Andover, Johnny Kilpatrick, Henry Hobbs, Ham Andrews, Bob Foster and Bob McKay had already left there and gone to college.
"It has been a great privilege for me to have played on different teams that have had strong players. I cannot say too much about Hardwick, Bradlee, and Trumbull. Brickley was one of the hardest men for our opponents to bring down when he got the ball. He was a phenomenal kicker. I had also a lot of respect for Mal Logan, who played quarterback on my team in 1915. He weighed less than 150 pounds. He used to get into the interference in grand shape. He counted for something. He was a tough kid. He could stand all sorts of knocks and he used to get them too. When I was kicking he warded off the big tackles as they came through. He was always there and nobody could ever block a kick from his side. The harder they hit him, the stronger he came back every time."
When I asked Mahan about fun in football he said:
"We didn't seem to do much kidding. There was a sort of serious spirit; Haughton had such an influence over everybody, they were afraid to laugh before practice, while waiting for Haughton, and after practice everybody was usually sotired there was not much fooling in the dressing room; but we got a lot of fun out of the game."
Of Haughton's coaching methods and the Harvard system Eddie has a few things to tell us that will be news to many football men.
"Haughton coaches a great deal by the use of photographs which are taken of us in practice as well as regular games. He would get us all together and coach from the pictures—point out the poor work. Seldom were the good points shown. Nevertheless, he always gave credit to the man who got his opponent in the interference. Haughton used to say:
"'Any one can carry a ball through a bunch of dead men.'
"Haughton is a good organizer. He has been the moving spirit at Cambridge but by no means the whole Harvard coaching staff. The individual coaches work with him and with each other. Each one has control or supreme authority over his own department. The backfield coach has the picking of men for their positions. Harvard follows Charlie Daly's backfield play; improved upon somewhat, of course, according to conditions. Each coach is considered an expert in his own line. No coach is considered an expert in all fields. This is the method at Harvard.
"Outside of Haughton, Bill Withington, Reggie Brown, and Leo Leary have been the most recent prominent coaches. The Harvardgeneralship has been the old Charlie Daly system. Reggie Brown has been a great strategist. Harvard line play came from Pot Graves of West Point."
King, of Harvard, making a run; Mahan putting black on his headKING, OF HARVARD, MAKING A RUN; MAHAN PUTTING BLACK ON HIS HEAD
George Chadwick
What George Chadwick, captain of Yale's winning team of 1902, gave of himself to Yale football has amply earned the thoroughly remarkable tributes constantly paid to this great Yale player. He was a most deceptive man with the ball. In the Princeton game John DeWitt was the dangerous man on the Princeton team, feared most on account of his great kicking ability.
DeWitt has always contended that Chadwick's team was the best Yale team he ever saw. He says: "It was a better team than Gordon Brown's for the reason that they had a kicker and Gordon Brown's team did not have a kicker. But this is only my opinion."
Yale and Princeton men will not forget in a hurry the two wonderful runs for touchdowns, one from about the center of the field, that Chadwick made in 1902.
"I note," writes Chadwick, "that there is a general impression that the opening in the line through which I went was large enough to accommodate an express train. As a matter of fact, the opening was hardly large enough for me to squeeze through. The play was not to make a large opening, and I certainly rememberthe sensation of being squeezed when going through the line.
"There were some amusing incidents in connection with that particular game that come back to me now. I remember that when going down on the train from New York to Princeton, I was very much amused at Mike Murphy's efforts to get Tom Shevlin worked up so he would play an extra good game. Mike kept telling Tom what a good man Davis was and how the latter was going to put it all over him. Tom clenched his fists, put on a silly grin and almost wept. It really did me a lot of good, as it helped to keep my mind off the game. When it did come to the game, his first big game, Shevlin certainly played wonderful football.
"I had been ill for about a week and a half before this game and really had not played in practice for two or three weeks. Mike was rather afraid of my condition, so he told me to be the last man always to get up before the ball was put in play. I carefully followed his advice and as a result a lot of my friends in the stand kept thinking that I had been hurt.
"Toward the end of the game we were down about on Princeton's 40-yard line. It was the third down and the probabilities were that we would not gain the distance, so I decided to have Bowman try for a drop-kick. I happened to glance over at the side line and there was old Mike Murphy making strenuous motions withhis foot. The umpire, Dashiell, saw him too, and put him off the side lines for signalling. I remember being extremely angry at the time because I was not looking at the side lines for any signals and had decided on a drop kick anyhow.
"In my day it was still the policy to work the men to death, to drill them to endure long hours of practice scrimmage. About two weeks before the Princeton game in my senior year, we were in a slump. We had a long, miserable Monday's practice. A lot of the old coaches insisted that football must be knocked into the men by hard work, but it seemed to me that the men knew a lot of football. They were fundamentally good and what they really needed was condition to enable them to show their football knowledge. It is needless to say that I was influenced greatly in this by Mike Murphy and his knowledge of men and conditioning them. Joe Swann, the field coach, and Walter Camp were in accord, so we turned down the advice of a lot of the older coaches and gave the Varsity only about five minutes' scrimmage during the week and a half preceding the Princeton game, with the exception of the Bucknell game the Saturday before. During the week before the Princeton and Harvard games we went up to Ardsley and had no practice for three days. There was a five-minutes' scrimmage on Thursday. This was an unusual proceeding, but it was so intensely hot the day of the Princeton game,and we all lost so much weight something unusual had to be done. The team played well in the Princeton game, but it was simply a coming team then. In the Harvard game, which we won 23 to 0, it seemed to me that we were at the top of our form.
"I think the whole incident was a lesson to us at New Haven of the great value of condition to men who know a great deal of football. I know from my own experience during the three preceding years that it had been too little thought of. The great cry had too often been 'We must drum football into them, no matter what their physical condition.'
"After the terribly exhausting game at Princeton, which we won, 12 to 5, DeWitt Cochrane invited the team to go to his place at Ardsley and recuperate. It really was our salvation, and I have always been most grateful to Mr. and Mrs. Cochrane for so generously giving up their house completely to a mob of youngsters. We spent three delightful days, almost forgot football entirely, ate ravenously and slept like tops.
"Big Eddie Glass was a wonderful help in interference. I used to play left half and Eddie left guard. On plays where I would take the ball around the end, or skirting tackle, Eddie would either run in the interference or break through the line and meet me some yards beyond. We had a great pulling and hauling team that year, and the greatest puller and hauler wasEddie Glass. Perry Hale, who played fullback my sophomore year, was a great interferer. He was big, and strong and fast. On a straight buck through tackle, when he would be behind me, if there was not a hole in the proper place, he would whirl me all the way round and shoot me through a hole somewhere else. It would, of course, act as an impromptu delayed play. In one game I remember making a forty yard run to a touchdown on such a manœuver."
Princeton's 1899 teamMcCord Mills Roper Burke Pell Craig Mattis Lathrope Lloyd Bannard BoothWheeler ReiterPoe Edwards HillebrandHutchinson Palmer McClavePRINCETON'S 1899 TEAM
Arthur Poe
There never was as much real football ability concealed in a small package as there was in that great player, Arthur Poe. He was always using his head, following the ball, strong in emergency. He was endowed with a wonderful personality, and a man who always got a lot of fun out of the game and made fun for others, but yet was on the job every minute. He always inspired his team mates to play a little harder. Rather than write anything more about this great player, let us read with him the part he so ably played in some of Princeton's football games.
"The story of my run in 1898 is very simple. Yale tried a mass play on Doc Hillebrand, which, as usual, was very unsuccessful in that quarter. He broke through and tackled the man with the ball. While the Yale men were trying to push him forward, I grabbed the ball from his arms and had a clear field and about tenyards start for the goal line. I don't believe I was ever happier in my life than on this day when I made the Princeton team and scored this touchdown against Yale.
"In the second half McBride tried a center drive on Booth and Edwards. The line held and I rushed in, and grabbed the ball, but before I got very far the Referee blew his whistle, and after I had run across the goal line I realized that the touchdown was not going to be allowed.
"Lew Palmer and I were tried at end simply to endeavor to provide a defense against the return runs of de Saulles on punts. He, by the way, was the greatest open field runner I have ever seen.
"My senior year started auspiciously and the prospects for a victorious eleven appeared especially bright, as only two of the regular players of the year before had graduated. The first hard game was against Columbia, coached by Foster Sanford, who had a wealth of material drawn from the four corners of the earth. In the latter part of the game my opponent by way of showing his disapproval of my features attempted to change them, but was immediately assisted to the ground by my running mate and was undergoing an unpleasant few moments, when Sanford, reinforced by several dozen substitutes, ran to his rescue and bestowed some unkind compliments on different parts of my pal's anatomy. With the arrival of Burr McIntosh and several oldgrads, however, we were released from their clutches, and the game proceeded.
"After the Cornell game the Yale game was close at hand. We were confident of our ability to win, though we expected a bitter hard struggle, in which we were not disappointed. Through a well developed interference on an end run, Reiter was sent around the end for several long gains, resulting in a touchdown, but Yale retaliated by blocking a kick and falling on the ball for a touchdown. Sharpe, a few minutes later, kicked a beautiful goal, so that the score was 10 to 6 in Yale's favor. The wind was blowing a gale all through the first half and as Yale had the wind at their backs we were forced to play a rushing game, but shortly after the second half began the wind died down considerably so that McBride's long, low kicks were not effective to any great extent.
"Yale was on the defensive and we were unable to break through for the coveted touchdown, though we were able to gain ground consistently for long advances. In the shadow of their goal line Yale held us mainly through the wonderful defensive playing of McBride. I never saw a finer display of backing up the rush line than that of McBride during the second half. So strenuous was the play that eight substitutions had been made on our team, but with less than five minutes to play we started a furious drive for the goal line from the middle of the field, and withMcClave, Mattis and Lathrope carrying the ball we went to Yale's 25-yard line in quick time.
"With only about a minute to play it was decided to try a goal from the field. I was selected as the one to make the attempt. I was standing on the 34-yard line, about ten yards to the left of centre when I kicked; the ball started straight for the far goal post, but apparently was deflected by air currents and curved in not more than a yard from the post. I turned to the Referee, saw his arms raised and heard him say 'Goal' and then everything broke loose.
"I saw members of the team turning somersaults, and all I remember after that was being seized by a crowd of alumni who rushed out upon the field, and hearing my brother Ned shout, 'You damned lucky kid, you have licked them again.' I kicked the ball with my instep, having learned this from Charlie Young of Cornell, who was then at Princeton Seminary and was playing on the scrub team. The reason I did this was because Lew Palmer and myself wore light running shoes with light toes, not kicking shoes at all.
"After the crowd had been cleared off the field there were only 29 seconds left to play, and after Yale had kicked off we held the ball without risking a play until the whistle blew, when I started full speed for the gate, followed by Bert Wheeler. I recall knocking down several men as we were bursting through and making ourway to the bus. It was the first, last and only goal from the field I ever attempted, and the most plausible explanation for its success was probably predestination."
Nothing got by John DeWittNOTHING GOT BY JOHN DeWITT
Arthur Poe was a big factor in football, even when he wasn't running or kicking Yale down to defeat.
"Bill Church's roughness, in my freshman year, had the scrub bluffed," continues Arthur. "When Lew Palmer volunteered to play halfback and take care of Bill on punts, Bill was surprised on the first kick he attempted to block to feel Lew's fist on his jaw and immediately shouted:
"'I like you for that, you damn freshman.'
"That was the first accident that attracted attention to Lew. Palmer was one of the gamest men and he won a Varsity place by the hardest kind of work.
"Well do I recall the indignation meeting of the scrub to talk over plans of curbing Johnny Baird and Fred Smith in their endeavor to kill the scrub."
John DeWitt
Big John DeWitt was the man who brought home the Yale bacon for the Tigers in 1903. To be exact he not only carried, but also kicked it home. Two surprise parties by a single player in so hard a game are rare indeed. Whenever I think of DeWitt I think of his great power of leadership. He was an ideal captain. Hethought things out for himself. He was the spirit of his team.
This great Princeton captain was one of the most versatile football men known to fame. Playing so remarkably in the guard position, he also did the kicking for his team and was a great power in running with the ball.
DeWitt thought things out almost instantly and took advantage of every possible point. The picture on the opposite page illustrates wonderfully well how he exerted and extended himself. This man put his whole soul into his work and was never found wanting. His achievements will hold a conspicuous place in football history. Nothing got by John DeWitt.
DeWitt's team in 1903 was the first to bring victory over Yale to Princeton since 1899. On that day John DeWitt scored a touchdown and kicked a placement goal, which will long be remembered. Let us go back and play a part of that game over with John himself.
"Whenever I think of football my recollections go back to the Yale game of 1903," says DeWitt. "My most vivid recollections are of my loyal team mates whose wonderful spirit and good fellowship meant so much to the success of that Eleven. Without their combined effort Princeton could not have won that day.
"We had a fine optimistic spirit before the game and the fact that Jim Hogan scored a touchdown for Yale in the first part of the gameseemed to put us on our mettle and we came back with the spirit that I have always been proud of. Hogan was almost irresistible. You could hardly stop him when he had the ball. He scored between Harold Short and myself and jammed through for about 12 yards to a touchdown. If you tackled Jim Hogan head on he would pull you right over backwards. He was the strongest tackle I ever saw. He seemed to have overpowering strength in his legs. He was a regular player. He never gave up until the whistle blew, but after the Princeton team got its scoring machine at work, the Princeton line outplayed the Yale line.
"I think Yale had as good a team as we had, if not better, that day. The personnel of the team was far superior to ours, but we had our spirit in the game. We were going through Yale to beat the band the last part of the game."
DeWitt, describing the run that made him famous, says:
"Towards the end of the first half, with the score 6 to 0 against Princeton, Yale was rushing us down the field. Roraback, the Yale center, was not able to pass the ball the full distance back for the punter. Rockwell took the ball from quarterback position and passed it to Mitchell, the fullback. On this particular play our whole line went through on the Yale kick formation. No written account that I have ever seen has accurately described just what happened. Ralph Davis was the first man through, and he blocked Mitchell's kick. Ridge Hart, who was coming along behind him, kicked the loose ball forward and the oval was about fifteen to twenty yards from where it started. I was coming through all the time.
"As the bouncing ball went behind Mitchell it bobbed up right in front of me. I probably broke all rules of football by picking it up, but the chances looked good and I took advantage of them. I really was wondering then whether to pick it up or fall on it, but figured that it was harder to fall on it than to pick it up, so I put on all the steam I had and started for the goal. Howard Henry was right behind me until I got near the goal post. After I had kicked the goal the score was 6 to 6. Never can I forget the fierce playing on the part of both teams that now took place.
"Shortly after this in the second half I punted down into Yale's territory. Mitchell fumbled and Ralph Davis fell on the ball on the 30-yard line. We tried to gain, but could not. Bowman fell on the ball after the ensuing kick, which was blocked. It had rolled to the 5-yard line. Yale tried to gain once; then Bowman went back to kick. I can never pay enough tribute to Vetterlein, to the rare judgment that he displayed at this point in the game. When he caught that punt and heeled it, he used fine judgment; butfor his good head work we never would have won that game. I kicked my goal from the field from the 43-yard line.
John DeWitt about to pick up the ballJOHN DeWITT ABOUT TO PICK UP THE BALL
"As Ralph Davis was holding the ball before I kicked it, the Yale players, who were standing ten yards away were not trying to make it any the easier for us. I remember in particular Tom Shevlin was kidding Ralph Davis, who replied: 'Well, Tom, you might as well give it to us now—the score is going to be 11-6,' and just then what Davis had said came through.
"If any one thinks that my entire football experience was a bed of roses, I want to assure him that it was not. I experienced the sadness of injury and of not making the team. The first day I lined up I broke three bones in one hand. Three weeks later, after they had healed I broke the bones in my other hand and so patiently waited until the following year to make the team.
"The next year I went through the bitter experience of defeat, and we were beaten good and plenty by Yale. Defeat came again in 1902. It was in that year that I met, as my opponent, the hardest man I ever played against, Eddie Glass. The Yale team came at me pretty hard the first fifteen minutes. Glass especially crashed into me. He was warned three times by Dashiell in the opening part of the game for strenuous work. Glass was a rough, hard player, but he was not an unfair player at that.I always liked good, rough football. He played the game for all it was worth and was a Gibraltar to the Yale team.
"Now that my playing days are over, I think there is one thing that young fellows never realize until they are through playing; that they might have helped more; that they might have given a few extra minutes to perfect a play. The thing that has always appealed to me most in football is to think of what might have been done by a little extra effort. It is very seldom you see a man come off the field absolutely used up. I have never seen but one or two cases where a man had to be helped to the dressing room. I have always thought such a man did not give as much as he should,—we're all guilty of this offense. A little extra punch might have made a touchdown."
Tichenor, of the University of Georgia, tells the following:
"In a Tech-Georgia game a peculiar thing happened. One of the goal lines was about seven yards from the fence which was twelve feet high and perfectly smooth. Tech had worked the ball down to within about three yards of Georgia's goal near the fence. Here the defense of the Red and Black stiffened and, taking the ball on downs, Ted Sullivan immediately dropped back for a kick. The pass was none too good and he swung his foot into the ball, which struckthe cross bar, bounded high up in the air, over the fence, behind the goal post.
"Then began the mighty wall-scaling struggle to get over the fence and secure the coveted ball. As fast as one team would try to boost each other over, their opponents would pull them down. This contest continued for fully five minutes while the crowd roared with delight. In the meantime George Butler, the Referee, took advantage of the situation and, with the assistance of several spectators, was boosted over the fence where he waited for some player to come and fall on the ball, which was fairly hidden in a ditch covered over with branches. Butler tells to this day of the amusing sight as he beheld first one pair of hands grasping the top of the fence; one hand would loosen, then the other; then another set of hands would appear. Heads were bobbing up and down and disappearing one after the other. The crowd now became interested and showed their partiality, and with the assistance of some of the spectators a Tech player made his way over the fence and began his search for the ball, closely followed by a Georgia player. They rushed around frantically looking for the ball. Then Red Wilson joined in the search and quickly located it in the ditch; soon had it safely in his arms and Tech scored a touchdown.
"This was probably the only touchdown play in the history of the game which none of thespectators saw and which only the Referee and two other players saw at the time the player touched the ball down."
That Charlie Brickley was in the way of bringing home the bacon to Harvard is well known to all. There have been very few players who were as reliable as this star. It was in his senior year that he was captain of the team and when the announcement came at the start of the football season that Brickley had been operated upon for appendicitis the football world extended to him its deepest sympathy. During his illness he yearned to get out in time to play against Yale. This all came true. The applause which greeted him when Haughton sent this great player into the game—with the Doctor's approval—must have impressed him that one and all were glad to see him get into the game.
Let us hear what Brickley has to say about playing the game.
"I have often been asked how I felt when attempting a drop kick in a close game before a large crowd. During my first year I was a little nervous, but after that it didn't bother me any more than as if I were eating lunch. Constant practice for years gave me the feeling that I could kick the ball over every time I tried. If I was successful, those who have seen me play are the best judges. Confidence is a necessity in drop kicking. The three hardest games I everplayed in were the Dartmouth 3 to 0 game in 1912, and Princeton 3 to 0 in 1913, and the Yale 15 to 5 game of the same year. The hardest field goal I ever had to kick was against Princeton in the mud in 1913.
The ever reliable Brickley; A football thoroughbred--Tack HardwickTHE EVER RELIABLE BRICKLEY A FOOTBALL THOROUGHBRED—TACK HARDWICK
"The most finished player in all around play I ever came across is Tack Hardwick. He could go through a game, or afternoon's practice and perform every fundamental function of the game in perfect fashion. The most interesting and remarkable player I ever came across was Eddie Mahan. He could do anything on the football field. He was so versatile, that no real defense could be built against him. He had a wonderful intuitive sense and always did just the right thing at the right time."
"THE BLOODY ANGLE"
Football in its very nature is a rough game. It calls for the contact of bodies under high momentum and this means strains and bruises! Thanks to the superb physical condition of players, it usually means nothing more serious.
The play, be it ever so hard, is not likely to be dangerous provided it is clean, and the worst indictment that can be framed against a player of to-day, and that by his fellows, is that he is given to dirty tactics. This attitude has now been established by public opinion, and is reflected in turn by the strictness of officials, the sentiment of coaches and football authorities generally. So scientific is the game to-day that only the player who can keep his head, and clear his mind of angry emotions, is really a valuable man in a crisis.
Again, the keynote of success in football to-day is team work, perfect interlocking of all parts. In the old days play was individual, man against man, and this gave rise in many cases to personal animosity which frequently reduced great football contests to little more than pitchedbattles. Those who to-day are prone to decry football as a rough and brutal sport—which it no longer is—might at least reverse their opinions of the present game, could they have spent a certain lurid afternoon in the fall of '87 at Jarvis Field where the elevens of Harvard and Princeton fought a battle so sanguinary as to come down to us through the years legended as a realcrimsonaffair. One of the saddest accidents that ever occurred on a university football field happened in this contest and suggested the caption of "the Bloody Angle," the historic shambles of the great Gettysburg battle.
Luther Price, who played halfback on the Princeton teams of '86 and '87 and who was acting captain the larger part of the latter season, tells the following story of the game:
"Princeton's contest with Harvard in the autumn of '87 was the bloodiest game that I ever experienced or saw. At that period the football relations between the two colleges were fast approaching a crisis and the long break between the institutions followed a couple of seasons later. It is perhaps true that the '87 game was largely responsible for the rupture because it left secret bitterness.
"In fact, the game was pretty near butchery and the defects of the rules contributed to this end. Both sides realized that the contest was going to be a hummer but neither imagined theextent of the casualties. Had the present rules applied there would have been a long string of substitutes in the game and the caption of 'The Bloody Angle' could not have been applied.
"In those days an injured player was not allowed to leave the field of play without the consent of the opponents' captain. One can easily grasp the fact that your adversaries' captain was not apt to permit a player, battered almost to worthlessness, to go to the bench and to allow you to substitute a strong and fresh player. Therein lies the tale of this game.
"Princeton was confident of winning but not overconfident. We went out to Jarvis field on a tallyho from Boston, and I recall how eagerly we dashed upon the field, anxious for the scrap to begin. It was a clear, cold day with a firm turf—a condition that helped us, as we were lighter than Harvard, especially behind the line. None of our backs weighed more than 155 pounds.
"Holden, the Crimson captain, was probably the most dangerous of our opponents. He was a deceptive running back owing to the difficulty of gauging his pace. He was one of the speediest sprinters in the Eastern colleges and if he managed to circle either end it was almost good-bye to his opponents.
"We were all lying in wait for Holden, not to cripple him or take any unfair advantage, but to see that he did not cross our goal line. It wasnot long before we had no cause to be concerned on that score. But before Holden was disposed of we suffered a most grievous loss in the disqualification of Hector Cowan, our left guard and our main source of strength. Princeton worked a majority of the tricks through Cowan and when he was gone we lost the larger part of our offensive power.
"Cowan's disqualification was unjustified by his record or by any tendency toward unfair play, though this statement should not be regarded as a reflection on the fairness of Wyllys Terry, the old Yale player, who was the umpire. Walter Camp, by the way, was the referee.
"There never was a fairer player than Cowan, and such a misfortune as losing him by disqualification for any act on the field was never dreamt of by the Princeton men. The trouble was that Terry mistook an accident for a deliberate act. Holden was skirting Princeton's left end when Cowan made a lunge to reach him. Holden's deceptive pace was nearly too much for even such a star as Cowan, whose hands slipped from the Harvard captain's waist down to below his knees until the ankles were touched. Cowan could have kept his hands on Holden's ankles, but as tackling below the knees was foul, he quickly let go. But Holden tumbled and several Princeton men were on him in a jiffy.
"Harvard immediately claimed that it was a foul tackle. It was a desperate claim but itproved successful. To our astonishment and chagrin, Terry ruled Cowan off the field. Cowan was thunderstruck at the decision and protested that he never meant to tackle unfairly. We argued with Terry but he was unrelenting. To him it seemed that Cowan meant to make a foul tackle. The situation was disheartening but we still felt that we had a good chance of pulling through even without Cowan.
"What was particularly galling to us was that we had allowed two touchdowns to slip from our grasp. Twice we had carried the ball to within a few yards of the Harvard line and had dropped the ball when about to cross it. Both errors were hardly excusable and were traceable to over-anxiety to score. With Cowan on the field we had found that he could open up the Harvard line for the backs to make long runs but now that he was gone we could be sure of nothing except grilling work.
"Soon after occurred the most dramatic and lamentable incident which put Holden out of the game. We had been warned long before the contest that Holden was a fierce tackler and that if we, who were back of the Princeton line, wished to stay in the game it would be necessary to watch out for his catapultic lunges.
"Holden made his tackles low, a kind of a running dive with his head thrust into his quarry's stomach. The best policy seemed, in case Holden had you cornered, to go at him witha stiff arm and a suddenly raised knee to check his onslaught and, if possible, shake him off in the shuffle, but that was a mighty difficult matter for light backs to do.
"First the line was opened up so that I went through. Harding, the Harvard quarter, who was running up and down the Crimson line like a panther, didn't get me. My hand went against his face and somehow I got rid of him. Finally I reached Holden, who played the fullback position while on the defensive, and had him to pass in order to get a touchdown. There was a savage onslaught and Holden had me on the ground.
"A few moments later Ames, who played back with Channing and me, went through the Harvard line and again Holden was the only obstacle to a touchdown for Princeton. There was another savage impact and both players rolled upon the ground, but this time Holden did not get up. He got his man but he was unconscious or at least seemingly so. His chest bone had been broken. It was a tense moment. We all felt a pang of sympathy, for Holden was a square, if rough, player. Harvard's cheers subsided into murmurs of sorrow and Holden was carried tenderly off the field.
"The accident made Harvard desperate, and as we were without Cowan we were in the same mental condition. It was hammer and tongs from that time on. I don't know that there wasany intention to put players out of business, but there was not much mercy shown.
"It appeared to me that some doubt existed on the Harvard side as to who caused Holden's chest bone to be broken, but that the suspicion was mainly directed at me. Several years later an article written at Harvard and published in thePublic Ledgerin Philadelphia gave a long account of how I broke Holden's chest bone. This seemed to confirm my notion that there was a mixup of identity. However that may be, it soon became evident in the game that I was marked for slaughter.
"Vic Harding made a profound and lasting impression on me both with his hands and feet. In fact, Harding played in few games of importance in which he was not disqualified. He was not a bad fellow at all in social relations, but on a football field he was the limit of 'frightfulness.' I don't know of any player that I took so much pleasure in punching as Harding. Ames and Harding also took delight in trying to make each other's faces change radically in appearance.
"I think that Harding began to paint my face from the start of the game and that as it proceeded he warmed up to the task, seeing that he was making a pretty good job of it. He had several mighty able assistants. The work was done with several hundred Wellesley College girls, who were seated on benches close to thesideline, looking on with the deepest interest and, as it soon appeared, with much sympathy. I will not forget how concerned they looked.
"By the middle of the second half I guess they did see a spectacle in me for they began to call to me and hold out handkerchiefs. At first I didn't realize what they meant for I was so much engaged with the duties that lay in front of me that it was difficult to notice them, but their entreaties soon enlightened me. They were asking me as a special favor to clean my face with their handkerchiefs, but I replied—perhaps rather abruptly—that I really didn't have time to attend to my facial toilet.
"My nose had been broken, both eyes well closed and my canvas jacket and doeskin knickerbockers were scarlet or crimson—whichever you prefer—in hue. Strength was quickly leaving me and the field swam. I finally propped myself up against a goal post. The next thing I knew was that I was being helped off the field. My brother, Billy, who was highly indignant over the developments, took my place. This was about ten or fifteen minutes before the end of the game, which then consisted of two 45 minute periods.
"Ames emerged from the game with nothing more than the usual number of cuts and bruises. At that time we did not have any nose-guards, head-guards and other paraphernalia such as are used nowadays, except that we could get anklebraces, and Ames wore one. That ankle stood the test during the fight.
"A majority of the other players were pretty well cut up. After Cowan was disqualified Bob (J. Robb) Church, subsequently Major in the United States Army Medical Corps and formerly the surgeon of Roosevelt's Rough Riders in the Spanish War, was shifted from tackle to Cowan's position at guard. Chapin, a brilliant student, who had changed from Amherst to Princeton, went in at tackle. He was a rather erratic player, and Harvard kept pounding in his direction with the result that Bob Church had a sea of trouble and I was forced to move up close to the line for defensive work. It was this that really put me out of business. My left shoulder had been hurt early in the season and it was bound in rubber, but fortunately it was not much worse off than at the beginning of the game.
"Bob Church risked his life more than once in the Spanish War and for his valor he received a Medal of Honor from Congress, but it is safe to say that he never got such a gruelling as in this Harvard game. He was battered to the extent of finding it difficult to rise after tackling and finally he was lining up on his knees. It was a magnificent exhibition of pluck. As I recall, Bob lasted to the end of the game.
"It was not until near the close that any scoring took place and then Harvard made twotouchdowns in quick succession. We lacked substitutes to put in and, even if we had had them, it is doubtful whether we could have got them in as long as a player was able to stand up. The only satisfaction we had was that we had done the best we could to win and our confidence that with Cowan we could have won even if Holden had not been hurt. We had beaten Harvard the year before with essentially the same team that we played in this game."
THE FAMILY IN FOOTBALL
It is almost possible, I think, to divide football men into two distinct classes—those who are made into players (and often very good ones) by the coaches and those who are born with the football instinct. Just how to define football instinct is a puzzle, but it is very easy to discern it in a candidate, even if he never saw a football till he set foot on the campus. By and large, it will be read first in a natural aptitude for following the ball. After that, in the general way he has of handling himself, from falling on the ball to dodging and straight arm. Watch the head coach grin when some green six-foot freshman dives for a rolling ball and instinctively clutches it into the soft part of his body as he falls on it. Nobody told him to do it just that way, or to keep his long arms and legs under control so as to avoid accident, but he does it nevertheless and thus shows his football instinct.
There is still another kind of football instinct, and that is the kind that is passed down from father to son and from brother to brother. They say that the lacemakers of Nottingham don't have to be taught how to make lace because, aschildren, they somehow absorb most of the necessary knowledge in the bosom of their family, and I think the same thing is true of sons and brothers of football players. Generally, they pick up the essentials of the game from "Pop" long before they get to school or college or else are properly educated by an argus-eyed brother.