Football Days Part 22

"Five or six minutes before the end of the game, one E. H. Coy decided that the time was getting short and Yale needed a touchdown. So he grabbed a Harvard punt on the run and started. Yes, he did more than start, he got well under way, circled the Harvard end and after galloping fifteen yards, apparently concluded that I would look well as minced meat, and headed straight for me, stationed well back on the secondary defense. He had received no invitation whatsoever, but owing to the fact that I believe every Harvard man should be at least cordial to every Yale man, I decided to go 50-50 and meet him half way.

"We met informally. That I know. I will never forget that. He weighed only 195 pounds, but I am sure he had another couple of hundred tucked away somewhere. When I had finished counting a great variety and number of stars, it occurred to me that I had been in a ghastly railroad wreck, and that the engine and cars following had picked out my right knee as a nice soft place to pile up on. There was a feeling of great relief when I looked around and saw that the engineer of that train, Mr. E. H. Coy, had stopped with the train, and I held the greatest hopes that neither the engine nor any one of the ten cars following would ever reach the terminal.

"Mother, who had seen the whole performance, was little concerned with other than the fact that E. H. had been delayed. His mission had been more than delayed--as it turned out, it had been postponed. In the meantime Dr. Nichols of the Harvard staff of first aid was working with my knee, and from the stands it looked as though I might have broken my leg.

"At this point some one who sat almost directly back of my mother called out loud, 'That's young Kennard. It looks as though he'd broken his leg.' My brother, feeling that mother had not heard the remark, and not knowing what he might say, turned and informed him that Mrs. Kennard was sitting almost directly in front of him, requesting that he be careful what he said. Mother, however, heard the whole thing, and turning in her seat said, 'That's all right, I don't care if his leg is broken, if we only win this game.'

"My mother, who is a great football fan, after following the game for three or four years, learned all the slang expressions typical of football. She tried to work out new plays, criticised the generals.h.i.+p occasionally, and fairly 'ate and slept' football during the months of October and November. While the season was in progress I usually slept at home in Boston where I could rest more comfortably. I occupied the adjoining room to my mother's, and when I was ready for bed always opened the door between the rooms.

"One night I woke up suddenly and heard my mother talking. Wondering whether something was the matter, I got out of bed and went into her room, appearing just in time to see my mothers arms outstretched. She was calling 'Fair catch.' I spoke to her to see just what the trouble was, and she, in a sleepy way, mumbled, 'We won.' She had been dreaming of the Harvard-Dartmouth game.

"Early in the fall of 1908 Haughton heard rumors that the Indians were equipping their backfield in a very peculiar fas.h.i.+on. Warner had had a piece of leather the color and shape of a football sewed on the jerseys of his backfield men, in such a position that when the arm was folded as if carrying the ball, it would appear as if each of the backfield players might have possession of the ball, and therefore disorganize somewhat the defense against the man who was actually carrying the ball.

Instead of one runner each time, there appeared to be four.

"Haughton studied the rules and found nothing to prevent Warner's scheme. He wrote a friendly letter to Warner, stating that he did not think it for the best interest of the game to permit his players to appear in the Stadium equipped in this way, at the same time admitting that there was nothing in the rules against it. Taking no chances, however, Haughton worked out a scheme of his own. He discovered that there was no rule which prevented painting the ball red, so he had a ball painted the same color as the crimson jerseys. Had the Indians come on the field with the leather ruse sewed on their jerseys, Haughton would have insisted that the game be played with the crimson ball.

"What did I learn in my football course? I learned to control my temper, to exercise judgment, to think quickly and act decisively. I learned the meaning of discipline, to take orders and carry them out to the best of my ability without asking why. I had through the training regular habits knocked into me. I learned to meet, know and size up men.

I learned to smile when I was the most discouraged fellow in this great wide world, the importance of being on time, a better control of my nerves, and to demand the respect of fellow players. I learned to work out problems for myself and to apply my energy more intelligently,--to stick by the s.h.i.+p. I secured a wide friends.h.i.+p which money can't buy."

What Eddie Mahan was to Harvard, Charlie Barrett, Captain of the victorious 1915 Eleven, was to Cornell. The Ithaca Captain was one of those powerful runners whose remarkable physique did not interfere with his s.h.i.+ftiness. Like his Harvard contemporary, he was a fine leader, but unlike Mahan, with whom he clashed in the game with the Crimson in his final year, he was not able to play the play through what was to him probably the most important gridiron battle of his career. Nevertheless, it was his touchdown in the first quarter that sounded the knell of the Crimson hopes that day, and Cornell men will always believe that his presence on the side line wrapped in a blanket, after his recovery from the shock that put him out of the game, had much to do with inspiring his Eleven.

Barrett was one of the products of the Cleveland University School, whence so many star players have been sent up to the leading universities. On the occasion of his first appearance at Ithaca it became a practical certainty that he would not only make the Varsity Eleven, but would some day be its captain. In course of time it became a habit for the followers of the Carnelian and White to look to Barrett for rescue in games that seemed to be hopelessly in the fire.

In his senior year the team was noted for its ability to come from behind, and this team spirit was generally understood as being the reflection of that of their leader. The Cornell Captain played the second and third periods of his final game against Pennsylvania in a dazed condition, and it is a tribute to his mental and physical resources that in the last period of that game he played perhaps as fine football as he had ever shown.

It was from no weakened Pennsylvania Eleven that Barrett s.n.a.t.c.hed the victory in this his crowded moment. The Quakers had had a disastrous season up to Thanksgiving Day, but their pluck and rallying power, which has become a tradition on Franklin Field, was never more in evidence.

The Quakers played with fire, with power and aggressiveness that none save those who know the Quaker spirit had been led to expect. There were heroes on the Red and Blue team that day, and without a Barrett at his best against them, they would have won.

[Ill.u.s.tration: SAM 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 leaders.h.i.+p of one of Princeton's finest elevens to bring home the long deferred champions.h.i.+p. 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 leaders.h.i.+p.

At a banquet for this champions.h.i.+p 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 got the 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 superst.i.tious, but I did stick it in my tie when I dressed that Sat.u.r.day 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 a.s.sured 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 superst.i.tious."

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 Billy Brooks, 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 crus.h.i.+ng 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 the _Harvard Lampoon_, crying out at the top of his voice:

"'_Harvard Lampoon_ for 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 the future 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 s.p.a.ce 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 my backfield 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 grat.i.tude 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 n.o.body could ever block a kick from his side. The harder they hit him, the stronger he came back every time."