Football Days Part 4

But deep in every man's heart, is the keen realization of the trainer's value, and his eager effort for their success. His athletic achievements and his record are well known, and appreciated by all. He is the pulse of the team.

The scrub team at Princeton during my last year was captained by Pop Jones, who was a martyr to the game. He was thoroughly reliable, and the spirit he instilled into his team mates helped to make our year a successful one. This picture will recall the long roll of silent heroes in the game, whose joy seemed to be in giving; men who worked their hearts out to see the Varsity improve; men who never got the great rewards that come to the Varsity players, but received only the thrill of doing something constructive. Their reward is in the victories of others, for every man knows that it is a great scrub that makes a great varsity. If, as you gaze at this picture of the scrub team, it stirs your memory of the fellows who used to play against you, and, if, in your heart you pay them a silent tribute, you will be giving them only their just due. To the uncrowned heroes, who found no fame, the men whose hearts were strong, but whose ambitions for a place on the Varsity were never realized, we take off our hats.

The fiercest knocks that John DeWitt's team ever had at Princeton were in practice against the scrub. It was in this year, on the last day of practice, that the undergraduates marched in a body down the field, singing and cheering, led by a band of music. Preliminary practice being over, the scrub team retired to the Varsity field house, to await the signal for the exhibition practice to be given on the Varsity field before the undergraduates. A surprise had been promised.

While the Varsity team was awaiting the arrival of the scrub team, it was officially announced that the Yale team would soon arrive upon the field, and shortly after this, the scrub team appeared with white "Y's"

sewed on the front of their jerseys. The scrub players took the Yale players' names, just as they were to play against Princeton on the coming Sat.u.r.day. There was much fun and enthusiasm, when the a.s.sumed Hogan would be asked to gain through c.o.o.ney, or Bloomer would make a run, and the make-believe Foster Rockwell would urge the pseudo Yale team on to victory.

John DeWitt had more than one encounter that afternoon with Captain Rafferty of Yale. After the practice ended all the players gathered around the dummy, which had been very helpful in tackling practice.

This had been saturated with kerosene awaiting the final event of the day. John DeWitt touched it off with a match, and the white "Y" which illuminated the chest of the dummy was soon enveloped in flames. A college tradition had been lived up to again, and when the team returned victorious from New Haven that year, John DeWitt and his loyal team mates never forgot those men and the events that helped to make victory possible.

CHAPTER IV

MISTAKES IN THE GAME

Many a football player who reads this book will admit that there arises in all of us a keen desire to go back into the game. It is not so much a desire just to play in the game for the mere sake of playing as to remedy the mistakes we all know we made in the past.

In our football recollections, the defeats we have experienced stand out the most vividly. Sometimes they live on as nightmares through the years. As we review the old days we realize that we did not always give our best. If we could but go back and correct our faults many a defeat might be turned into a victory.

We reflect that if we had trained a little harder, if we had been more sincere in our work, paid better attention to the advice given us by the men who knew, if we had mastered our positions better, it would have been a different story on many occasions when defeat was our portion.

But that is now all behind us. The games are over. The scores will always stand. Others have taken our places. We have had our day and opportunity. In the words of Longfellow,

"The world belongs to those who come the last."

Our records will remain as we left them on the gridiron. Many a man is recalled in football circles as the one who lost his temper in the big games and caused his team to suffer by his being ruled out of the game.

Men say, "Why, that is the fellow who m.u.f.fed a punt at a critical moment," or recall him as the one who "fumbled the ball," when, if he had held it, the team would have been saved from defeat.

You recall the man who gave the signals with poor judgment. Maybe you are thinking of the man who missed a great tackle or allowed a man to get through the line and block a kick. Perhaps a mistaken signal in the game caused the loss of a first down, maybe defeat--who knows?

Through our recollection of the things we should have done but failed to do for one reason or another, our defeats rise before us more vividly now than our victories.

There is only one day to make good and that is the day of the game. The next day is too late.

Then there is the ever-present recollection of the fellow who let athletics be the big thing in his college life. He did not make good in the cla.s.sroom. He was unfair to himself. He failed to realize that athletics was only a part of his college life, that it should have been an aid to better endeavor in his studies.

He may have earned his college letter or received a champions.h.i.+p gold football. And now that he is out in the world he longs for the college degree that he has forfeited.

His regrets are the deeper when he realizes that if he had given his best and been square with his college and himself, his presence might have meant further victories for his team. This is not confined to any one college. It is true of all of them and probably always will be true, although it is encouraging to note that there is a higher standard of scholars.h.i.+p attained on the average by college athletes to-day than a decade or so ago.

I wish I could impress this lesson indelibly upon the mind of every young football enthusiast--that athletics should go hand in hand with college duties. After all it is the same spirit of team work instilled into him on the football field that should inspire him in the cla.s.sroom, where his teacher becomes virtually his coach.

When I was at Princeton, we beat Yale three years out of the four, but the defeat of 1897 at New Haven stands out most vividly of all in my memory. And it is not so much what Yale did as what Princeton did not do that haunts me.

One day in practice in 1897, Sport Armstrong, conceded to be one of the greatest guards playing, was severely injured in a scrimmage. It was found that his neck and head had become twisted and for days he lay at death's door on his bed in the Varsity Club House. After a long serious illness he got well, but never strong enough to play again. I took his place.

[Ill.u.s.tration:

Benjamin Brown McBride Cadwalader Corwin Hazen Hall Rodgers Chamberlin Chadwick Dudley De Saulles

JIM RODGERS' TEAM]

Nearly all of the star players of the '96 Princeton champions.h.i.+p team were in the lineup. It was Cochran's last year and my first year on the Varsity. Our team was heralded as a three-to-one winner. We had beaten Dartmouth 30 to 0 and won a great 57 to 0 victory over Lafayette. Yale had a good, strong team that had not yet found itself. But there were several of us Princeton players who knew from old a.s.sociation in prep.

school the calibre of some of the men we were facing.

Cochran and I have often recalled together that silent reunion with our old team-mates of Lawrenceville. There in front of us on the Yale team were Charlie de Saulles, George Cadwalader and Charlie Dudley. We had not seen them since we all left prep. school, they to go to New Haven and we to Princeton.

When the teams lined up for combat there were no greetings of one old schoolmate to another. It was not the time nor place for exchange of amenities. As some one has since remarked, "The town was full of strangers."

The fact that Dudley was wearing one Lawrenceville stocking only urged us on to play harder.

My opponent on the Yale team was Charlie Chadwick, Yale's strong man.

Foster Sanford tells elsewhere in this book how he prepared him for the Harvard game the week before and for this game with Princeton. Our coaches had made, as they thought, a study of Chadwick's temperament and had instructed me accordingly. I delivered their message in the form of a straight arm blow. The compliment was returned immediately by Chadwick, and the sc.r.a.p was on. Das.h.i.+ell, the umpire, was upon us in a moment. I had visions of being ruled out of the game and disgraced.

"You men are playing like schoolboys and ought to be ruled out of the game," Das.h.i.+ell exclaimed, but he decided to give us another chance.

Chadwick played like a demon and I realized before the game had progressed very far that I had been coached wrong, for instead of weakening his courage my attack seemed to nerve him. He played a very wide, defensive guard and it was almost impossible to gain through him.

The play of the Princeton team at the outset was disappointing. Jim Rodgers, the Yale captain, was driving his men hard and they responded heartily. Some of them stood out conspicuously by their playing. De Saulles' open field work was remarkable. I remember well the great run of fifty-five yards which he made. He was a wonderfully clever dodger and used the stiff arm well. He evaded the Princeton tacklers successfully, until Billy Bannard made a tackle on Princeton's 25-yard line.

Garry Cochran was one of the Princeton players who failed in his effort to tackle de Saulles, although it was a remarkable attempt with a low, diving tackle. De Saulles hurdled over him and Cochran struck the ground, breaking his right shoulder.

That Cochran was so seriously injured did not become known until after de Saulles had finished his long run. Then it was seen that Cochran was badly hurt. The trainer ran out and took him to the side lines to fix up his injury.

Time was being taken out and as we waited for Cochran to return to the game we discussed the situation and hoped that his injury would not prove serious. Every one of us realized the tremendous handicap we would be under without him.

The tension showed in the faces of Alex Moffat and Johnny Poe as they sat there on the side line, trying to reach a solution of the problem that confronted them as coaches. They realized better than the players that the tide was against them.

To conceal the true location of his injury from the Yale players, Cochran had his left shoulder bandaged and entered the scrimmage again, game though handicapped, remaining on the field until the trainer finally dragged him to the side line.

This was the last football contest in which Garry Cochran took part. He was game to the end.

At New Haven that fall Frank b.u.t.terworth and some of the other coaches had heard a rumor that when Cochran and de Saulles parted at Lawrenceville they had a strange understanding. Both had agreed, so the rumor went, that should they ever meet in a Yale-Princeton game, one would have to leave the game.

b.u.t.terworth told de Saulles what he had heard and cautioned him, reminding him that he wanted him to play a game that would escape criticism. De Saulles put every ounce of himself into his game, Cochran did the same. To this day Frank b.u.t.terworth and the coaches believe that when de Saulles was making his great run up the field he kept his pledge to Cochran.

De Saulles and Cochran laugh at the suggestion that it was other than an accident, but they have never been able to convince their friends. The dramatic element in it was too strong for a mere chance affair.

Princeton's handicap when Cochran had to go out was increased by the withdrawal because of injuries of Johnny Baird, the quarterback, that wonderful drop-kicker of previous games. He was out of condition and had to be carried from the field with a serious injury.

Dudley, the ex-Lawrencevillian, here began to get in his telling work. The Yale stands were wild with enthusiasm as they saw their team about to score against the much-heralded Princeton team. We were a three to one bet. On the next play Dudley went through the Princeton line. At the bottom of the heap, hugging the ball and happy in his success, was Charlie Dudley, Yale hero, Lawrenceville stocking and all.

[Ill.u.s.tration: COCHRAN WAS GAME TO THE END]

After George Cadwalader had kicked the goal, the score stood 6 to 0.