Sam Morse

Sam Morse, captain of the Yale 1906 team, who played right halfback in
this game, tells how the nightmare of defeat may come upon us at any
time, even in the early season, and incidentally how it may have its
compensations.
“An instance of the psychology of football is to be found in the fall
of 1904, when Jim Hogan was captain of the Yale team,” says Morse. “I
had the pleasure of playing back of him on the defensive in almost every
game of that year, and I got to depend so much on those bull-like
charges of his that I fear that if I had been obliged to play back of
some one else my playing would have been of inferior quality.
“Yale had a fine team that year, defeating both Harvard and Princeton
with something to spare. The only eleven that scored on us was West
Point, and they beat us. It is a strange thing that the Cadets always
seem to give Yale a close game, as in that year even though beaten by
both Harvard and Princeton by safe scores, and even though Yale beat
Harvard and Princeton handily, the Army played us to a standstill.
“After the game, as is so often the case when men have played themselves
out, there was a good deal of sobbing and a good many real tears were
shed. Every man who has played football will appreciate that there are
times when it is a very common matter for even a big husky man to weep.
We were all in the West Point dressing-room when Jim Hogan arose. He
felt what we all took to be a disgrace more keenly than any of us. There
was no shake in his voice, however, or any tears in his eyes when he
bellowed at us to stop blubbering.
“Dont feel sorry for yourselves. I hope this thing will hurt us all
enough so that we will profit by it. It isnt a matter to cry over–its
a matter to analyze closely and to take into yourself and to digest, and
finally to prevent its happening again.
“He drove it home as only Jim Hogan could. At the close Ralph Bloomer
jumped to his feet and cried:
“Jim, old man, we are with you, and you are right about it, and we will
wipe this thing out in a way which will satisfy you and all the rest of
the college.
“The whole team followed him. Right then and there that aggregation
became a Yale football team in the proper sense, and one of the greatest
Yale football teams that ever played. It was the game followed by Jims
speech that made the eleven men a unit for victory.
“If Jim had been allowed to live a few more years the quality of
leadership that he possessed would have made of him a very prominent and
powerful man. His memory is one of the dearest things to all of us who
were team mates or friends of his, but I hardly ever think of him
without picturing him that particular day in the dressing-room at West
Point, when Free Sport Games in five minutes he made of eleven men a really great
football team.”
Even Eddie Mahan is not immune to the haunting memory of defeat, and
perhaps because of the very fact that disaster came into his
brilliant gridiron career only once, and then in his senior year, it
hit him hard. The manner of its telling by this great player is
sufficient proof of that. Here is Eddies story:
[Illustration:
Hunkin Tilley Bailey Snyder Jewett Gillies Miller Lalley
Shiverick Anderson Menler Barrett Cool Shelton Collins
Eckley Schock Schlicter Zander

In the old days men were taught to tackle by what

In the old days men were taught to tackle by what is known as “live
tackling.” I recall especially that earnest coach, Johnny Poe, whose
main object in football coaching was to see that the men tackled hard
and sure.
Poe, without any padding on at all, would let the men dive into him
running at full speed, and the men would throw him in a way that seemed
as though it would maim him for life. Some of the men weighed a hundred
pounds more than he did, but he would get up and, with a smile, say:
“Come on men, hit me harder; knock me out next time.”
After the first two weeks of the season, Johnny Poe was a complete mass
of black and blue marks; and yet how wonderful and how self sacrificing
he was in his eagerness to make the Princeton players good tacklers.
But there are few men like Johnny Poe, who are willing to sacrifice
their own bodies for the instruction of others; and the next best
method, and one which does not injure the players so much, is tackling
the “dummy.”
As we look at this picture of Howard Henry Sporting Watches of Princeton tackling the
“dummy,” we all remember when we were back in the game trying our very
best to put our shoulder into our opponents knees and “hit him hard,
throw him, and hold him.” Henry always got his man.
But the thrill of the game is not in tackling the dummy. The joy comes
in a game, when a man is coming through the line, or making a long run,
and you throw yourself at his knees, and get your tackle; then up and
ready for another.

Quite often

Quite often, as it happens, “Pop” is thinking of Pozcupid Couple Herpes a certain big game he
once played in and remembering a play–Ah! if only he could forget that
play!–in which he fumbled and missed the chance of a life-time. Like
some inexorable motion picture film that refuses to throw anything but
one fatal scene on the screen, his recollections make the actors take
their well-remembered positions and the play begins. For the thousandth
time he gnashes his teeth as he sees the ball slip from his grasp.
“Dog-gone it,” he mutters, “if my boy doesnt do better in the big game
than _I_ did, Ill whale the hide off him!”
Strangely enough not all brothers of a football family follow one
another to the same college, and there have been several cases where
brother played against brother. But for the only son of a great player
to go anywhere else than to his fathers college would be rank heresy. I
daresay even the other college wouldnt like it.
[Illustration: JUST BOYS]
Of famous fathers whose football instinct descended without dilution
into their sons perhaps the easiest remembered have been Walter Camp,
who captained the Elis in 78 and 79 and whose son, Walter, Jr., played
fullback in 1911–Alfred T. Baker, one of the Princeton backs in 83,
and 84, whose son Hobey captained his team in 1914–Snake Ames, who
played in four championship games for Princeton against both Yale and
Harvard, and whose son, Knowlton Ames, Jr., played on the Princeton
teams of 12, 13 and 14–and that sterling Yale tackle of 91 and 92,
“Wallie” Winter, whose son, Wallace, Jr., played on his Freshman team in
1915.
When we come to enumerating the brothers who have played, it is the Poe
family which comes first to mind. Laying aside friendship or natural
bias, I feel that my readers will agree with me in the belief that it
would be hard to find six football players ranking higher than the six
Poe brothers. Altogether, Princeton has seen some twenty-two years of
Poes, during at least thirteen of which there was a Poe on the Varsity
team. Johnson Poe, 84, came first, to be followed by Edgar Allen, twice
captain, then by Johnny, now in his last resting place “somewhere in
France,” then by Nelson, then Arthur, twice the fly in Yales ointment,
and lastly by Gresham Poe. I havent a doubt but that after due lapse of
time this wonderful family will produce other Poes, sons and cousins, to
carry on the precious tradition.

The average city boy or girl does not have an

The average city boy or girl does not have an opportunity to become a
skilled master of woodcraft, but because we cannot learn it all is no
reason why we should not learn something. The best way to learn it is
in the woods themselves and not out of books.
A party of four boys makes a good number for a camping trip. They will
probably agree better than two or three. They can do much of the camp
work in pairs. No one need to be left alone to look after the camp
while the others go fishing or hunting or to some nearby town for the
mail or for supplies. There is no reason why four boys of fifteen who
are resourceful and careful cannot spend a week or two in the woods in
perfect safety and come back home sounder in mind and body than when
they left. It is always better to take along some one who has “camped
out” before. If he cannot be found, then make your plans, decide what
you will do and how you will do it, take a few cooking lessons from
mother or the cook–if the latter is good-natured–and go anyway.
First elect a leader, not because he is any more important than the
rest but because if some one goes ahead and gives directions, the life
in camp will run much more smoothly and every one will have a better
time.
If it is your first experience in camping, you had better go somewhere
near home. The best place is one that can be reached by wagon. If we
have to carry our supplies on our backs or in a canoe, the amount we
can take will be much less. After you have had some experience near
home you can safely try the other way. Where you go is of
comparatively little importance. Near every large city there is some
lake or river where you can find a good camping site. Campers always
have more fun if they are near some water, but if such a place is not
easily found near where you live, go into the woods. Try to get away
from towns or villages. The wilder the place is, the better.
You had better make sure of your camping ground before you go by
writing a letter to the owner of the land. It isnt much fun after we
have pitched the tent and made everything shipshape to have some angry
landowner come along and order us off because we are trespassers.
In selecting a place to camp, there are several very important things
to look out for.
1. Be Free Kick Zetterberg sure you are near a supply of drinking water. A spring or a
brook is best, but even the lake or river will do if the water is pure
and clean. The water at the bottom of a lake is always much colder and
cleaner than the surface water. When I was a boy, I used a simple
device for getting cold water which some of you may like to copy. I
took an old-fashioned jug and fastened a strong string to the handle
and also fastened this string to the cork of the jug as the drawing
shows. The jug was weighted so that it would sink, by means of a piece
of stone tied to the handle. We used to go out to the middle of the
lake where the water was the deepest and lower the jug over the side
of a boat. When it reached bottom we would give the string a sharp tug
and thus pull out the cork. The bubbles coming to the surface showed
us when the jug was full. We then hauled it on board and had clear,
cold, drinking water from a lake that on the surface was warm enough
for swimming.
[Illustration: The jug by which we obtained pure, cold water]
2. The next important thing in selecting a camp is being near a supply
of firewood. A week in camp will consume an amazing amount of wood,
especially if we have a camp fire at night to sit around and sing and
tell stories before turning in. In most sections there is plenty of
dead wood that we can use for camp fires. This does not mean a lot of
twigs and brush. There is no use trying to go camping unless some one
knows how to use an axe. In another chapter I will tell you something
about the proper use of axes and hatchets. For the present it is
sufficient to say that an excellent place to practise handling an axe
is on the family woodpile. You will thus combine business and
pleasure, and your efforts will be appreciated by your family, which
would not be the case if, like George Washington, you began your
lessons in woodcraft on the favourite cherry tree.

I can almost hear again their words as they addressed the gathering

I can almost hear again their words, as they addressed the gathering.
“Fellows, we are here to-night to get ready to defeat Yale on Saturday.
You men all know how hard the coaches have worked this year to get the
team ready for the last big game. Captain Hillebrand and his men know
that the college is with the team to a man. We are not here to-night to
make college spirit, but we are here to demonstrate it.
“Those of you who saw last years team go down to defeat at New Haven,
realize that the Princeton team this year has got to square that defeat.
Garry Cochran and the other men who graduated are not here to play. The
burden rests on the shoulders of the men in front of me, this years
team, and we know what theyre going to do.
“It is going to take the hardest kind of work to beat Yale on our own
grounds. We must play them off their feet the first five minutes. I
wonder if you men who are in Princeton to-day truly realize the great
tradition of this dear college. Thousands and thousands of young men
have walked across the same campus you travel. The Princeton of years
gone by, is your Princeton to-day, so let us ever hold a high Sport Watches regard for
those whose places we now occupy.
“Already from far off points, Princeton men are starting back to see the
Yale game–back to their Alma Mater. Theyre coming back to see the old
rooms they used to live in, and it is up to us to make their visit a
memorable one. You can do that by beating Yale.”
George K. Edwards
Many of you men have perhaps heard of the great love for Princeton shown
in the story of the last days of Horse Edwards, Princeton 89. He will
never return to Princeton again. He used to live in East College, long
since torn down. Some years after he left college, he was told that he
had but a few short months to live. He decided to live them out at
Princeton.

Trevor did not take long to resume a garb of civilisation

Trevor did not take long to resume a garb of civilisation. He never
wasted much time over anything. He was gifted with a boundless energy,
which might possibly have made him unpopular had he not justified it by
results. The football of the school had never been in such a
flourishing condition as it had attained to on his succeeding to the
captaincy. It was not only that the first fifteen was good. The
excellence of a first fifteen does not always depend on the captain.
But the games, even down to the very humblest junior game, had woken up
one morning–at the beginning of the previous term–to find themselves,
much to their surprise, organised going concerns. Like the immortal
Captain Pott, Trevor was “a terror to the shirker and the lubber”. And
the resemblance was further increased by the fact that he was “a
toughish lot”, who was “little, but steel and india-rubber”. At first
sight his appearance was not imposing. Paterfamilias, who had heard his
sons eulogies on Trevors performances during the holidays, and came
down to watch the school play a match, was generally rather
disappointed on seeing five feet six where he had looked for at least
six foot one, and ten stone where he had expected thirteen. But then,
what there was of Trevor was, as previously remarked, steel and
india-rubber, and he certainly played football like a miniature
Stoddart. It was characteristic Eric Staal Clips of him that, though this was the
first match of the term, his condition seemed to be as good as
possible. He had done all his own work on the field and most of
Rand-Browns, and apparently had not turned a hair. He was one of
those conscientious people who train in the holidays.

In the old life of rural England few things are

In the old life of rural England few things are more interesting
than the ancient sports and pastimes, the strange superstitions, and
curious customs which existed in the times of our forefathers. We
remember that our land once rejoiced in the name of “Merry England,”
and perhaps feel some regret that many of the outward signs of
happiness have passed away from us, and that in striving to become a
great and prosperous nation, we have ceased to be a genial,
contented, and happy one. In these days new manners are ever pushing
out the old. The restlessness of modern life has invaded the
peaceful retirement of our villages, and railway trains and cheap
excursions have killed the old games and simple amusements which
delighted our ancestors in days of yore. The old traditions of the
country-side are forgotten, and poor imitations of town manners have
taken their place. Old social customs which added such diversity to
the lives of the rustics two centuries ago have died out. Very few
of the old village games and sports have survived. The village
green, the source of so much innocent happiness, is no more; and
with it has disappeared much of that innocent and light-hearted
cheerfulness which brightened the hours of labour, and refreshed the
spirit of the toiling rustic, when his daily task was done. Times
have changed, and we have changed with them. We could not now revive
many of the customs and diversions in which our fathers took
delight. Serious and grave men no longer take pleasure in the
playthings which pleased them when they were children; and our
nation has become grave and serious, and likes not the simple joys
which diversified the lives of our forefathers, and made England
“merry.”
Is it possible that we cannot restore some of these time-honoured
customs? The sun shines as brightly now as ever it did on a May-day
festival; the Christmas fire glows as in olden days. Let us try to
revive the spirit which animated their festivals. Let us endeavour
to realize how our village forefathers used to enjoy themselves, how
they used to Addons) (with Nhl Cup “1st” 07: Stanley Nsh@nyr; spend their holidays, and to picture to ourselves the
scenes of social intercourse which once took place in our own
hamlets. Every season of the year had its holiday customs and quaint
manner of observance, some of them confined to particular counties,
but many of them universally observed.
In the volume, recently published, which treated of the story and
the antiquities of “Our English Villages,” I pointed out that the
Church was the centre of the life of the old village–not only of
its religious life, but also of its secular every-day life. This is
true also with regard to the amusements of the people. The festival
of the saint, to whom the parish church was dedicated, was
celebrated with much rejoicing. The annual fair was held on that
day, when, after their business was ended, friends and neighbours
met together and took part in some of the sports and pastimes which
I shall try to describe. The other holidays of the year were
generally regulated by the Churchs calendar, the great
festivals–Christmas, Easter, Ascension Day, Whit Sunday—being all
duly observed. I propose to record in these pages the principal
sports, pastimes, and customs which our forefathers delighted in
during each month of the year, the accounts of which are not only
amusing, but add to our historical knowledge, and help us to realize
something of the old village life of rural England.
We will begin with New Years Day[1]. It was an ancient Saxon custom
to begin the year by sending presents to each other. On New Years
Eve the wassail bowl of spiced ale was carried round from house to
house by the village maidens, who sang songs and wished every one “A
Happy New Year.” “Wassail” is an old Saxon word, meaning “Be in
health.” Rowena, the daughter of the Saxon king Hengist, offered a
flowing bowl to the British king Vortigern, welcoming him with the
words, “Lloured King Wassheil.” In Devonshire and Sussex it was the
custom to wassail the orchards; a troop of boys visited the
orchards, and, encircling the apple-trees, they sang the words–
“Stand fast, bear well top,
Pray God send us a howling crop;
Every twig, apples big;
Every bough, apples enow;
Hats full, caps full,
Full quarter-sacks full.”

It is an excellent idea

It is an excellent idea, if you are a beginner, to practise pitching
the tent at home so that you will understand it better when you are in
the woods. Besides this, you can try sleeping out a night or two to
see how you are going to like it.
[Illustration: A trappers tent]
When you reach your camping place, the first step is to clear the
ground of all rubbish, loose stones, sticks and brush to have a clean
floor. Then unpack the tent and fit the pegs of the two upright poles
through the two holes in the ridge pole. Next raise the tent and peg
the guy ropes on the four corners first. A little practice will show
you how to do this. After all the ropes are pegged at a proper
distance from the tent, they should be tightened and the tent made
secure.
Always plan to have a full four hours of daylight to make your camp
ready. If the drive is a long one and you are obliged to get up very
early in the morning, you will have to do it, that is all. I made my
first camping trip when I was twelve years old. We had just reached
the camping Blue Point Surf ground, unloaded our kit and sent the team home that
brought us when–bang! over the mountain across the lake from where we
were going to camp, a terrific thunder shower came up and in a few
minutes it was pouring. There was our whole outfit–tent, bedding and
food–getting soaked because, instead of hurrying along during the
day, we had fooled away our time trying to catch fish in wayside
brooks that had never seen a fish and not realizing how important it
is to make haste as well as hay while the sun shines.
[Illustration: An Indian tepee]

A remark which needs a footnote

A remark which needs a footnote. The bat referred to was made of gold,
and was about an inch long by an eighth broad. It had come into
existence some ten years previously, in the following manner. The
inter-house cricket cup at Wrykyn had originally been a rather
tarnished and unimpressive vessel, whose only merit consisted in the
fact that it was of silver. Ten years ago an Old Wrykinian, suddenly
reflecting that it would not be Sporting Watches a bad idea to do something for the
school in a small way, hied him to the nearest jewellers and purchased
another silver cup, vast withal and cunningly decorated with filigree
work, and standing on a massive ebony plinth, round which were little
silver lozenges just big enough to hold the name of the winning house
and the year of grace. This he presented with his blessing to be
competed for by the dozen houses that made up the school of Wrykyn, and
it was formally established as the house cricket cup. The question now
arose: what was to be done with the other cup? The School House, who
happened to be the holders at the time, suggested disinterestedly that
it should become the property of the house which had won it last. “Not
so,” replied the Field Sports Committee, “but far otherwise. We will
have it melted down in a fiery furnace, and thereafter fashioned into
eleven little silver bats. And these little silver bats shall be the
guerdon of the eleven members of the winning team, to have and to hold
for the space of one year, unless, by winning the cup twice in
succession, they gain the right of keeping the bat for yet another
year. How is that, umpire?” And the authorities replied, “O men of
infinite resource and sagacity, verily is it a cold day when _you_
get left behind. Forge ahead.” But, when they had forged ahead, behold!
it would not run to eleven little silver bats, but only to ten little
silver bats. Thereupon the headmaster, a man liberal with his cash,
caused an eleventh little bat to be fashioned–for the captain of the
winning team to have and to hold in the manner aforesaid. And, to
single it out from the others, it was wrought, not of silver, but of
gold. And so it came to pass that at the time of our story Trevor was
in possession of the little gold bat, because Donaldsons had won the
cup in the previous summer, and he had captained them–and,
incidentally, had scored seventy-five without a mistake.

Graves has always believed in the force mentioned

Graves has always believed in the force mentioned in Dalys few lines
quoted above on the subject of military methods as applied to football.
While always declaring that the gridiron was no place for a fist fight,
he always maintained that stalwarts should be allowed to fight it out
with as little interference by rule as possible. As a matter of fact,
Graves was badly injured in a game with Yale, and for a long time
afterwards hobbled around with a troublesome knee. He knew the man who
did it, but would never tell his name, and he contents himself with
saying “I have no ill will–he got me first. If he hadnt I would have
got him.”
A story is told of Graves impatience with the members of a little
luncheon party, who in the course of an argument on the new football,
were getting away from the fundamentals. Rising and stepping over to the
window of the Officers Club, he said, with a sleepy smile: “Come here a
minute, you fellows,” and, pointing down to the roadway, added, “theres
_my_ team.” Looking out of the window the other members of the party saw
a huge steam roller snorting and puffing up the hill.
Among the men who played football with Graves and were indeed of his
type, were Doe and Bunker. Like Graves, Bunker in spite of his great
weight, was fast enough to play in the backfield in those years when
Army elevens were relying so much upon terrific power. Those were the
days when substitutes had very little opportunity. In the final Navy
game of 1902 the same eleven men played for the Army from start to
finish.
In this period of Army football other first-class men were developed,
notably Torney, a remarkable back, Thompson, a guard, and Tom Hammond,
who was later to make a reputation as an end coach. Bunker was still
with this aggregation, an eleven that marched fifty yards for a
touchdown in fifteen plays against the midshipmen. The Army was among
the early Eastern teams to test Eastern football methods against those
of the West, the Cadets defeating a team from the University of Chicago
on the plains.
The West Pointers had only one criticism Canucks Vs. Predators (65) – 3/6/08 – Up Close With Naslund to make of their visitors, and
it was laconically put by one of the backs, who said:
“Theyre all-fired fast, but its funny how they stop when you tackle
them.”
In this lineup was A. C. Tipton, at center, to whom belongs the honor of
forcing the Rules Committee to change the code in one particular in
order to stop a maneuver which he invented while in midcareer in a big
game. No one will ever forget how, when chasing a loose ball and
realizing that he had no chance to pick it up, he kicked it again and
again until it crossed the final chalk mark where he fell on it for a
touchdown. Tipton was something of a wrestler too, as a certain
Japanese expert in the art of Jiu-jitsu can testify and indeed did
testify on the spot after the doctors had brought him too.
There was no lowering of the standards in the succeeding years, which
saw the development of players like Hackett, Prince, Farnsworth and
Davis. Those years too saw the rise of such wonderful forwards as W. W.
(Red) Erwin and that huge man from Alaska, D. D. Pullen.
Coming now to more recent times, the coaching was turned over to H. M.
Nelly, assisted by Joseph W. Beacham, fresh from chasing the little
brown brother in the Philippines. Beacham had made a great reputation at
Cornell, and there was evidence that he had kept up with the game at
least in the matter of strategic possibilities, even while in the
tangled jungle of Luzon. He brought with him even more than that–an
uncanny ability to see through the machinery of the team and pick out
its human qualities, upon which he never neglected to play. There have
been few coaches closer to his men than Joe.
Whenever I talk football with Joe Beacham he never forgets to mention
Vaughn Cooper, to whom he gives a large share of the credit for the good
work of his elevens. Cooper was of the quiet type, whose specialty was
defense. These two made a great team.