You, Vu. No.
THE BOYS IN BLUE.
“To stand upon their feet and play
the game.??
The team the college cherished took
good care of Yale!
Six weeks ago they were, in a foot-
ball sense, “prep” school boys. Brown
gave them a bitter schooling. Then
the Indians hammered them, but the
boys had learned a thing or two, and
they did some work on their own ac-
count. Two weeks ago West Point
tried them out in a desperate game
which one of these boys finally made
a tie at the very last moment. Then
loomed up ahead of them the game
with Chicago—a team quite generally
considered, after the Newton game, as
able to defeat Yale.
There were plenty of people who
said, and some who bet, that Yale
would cancel the game. But Yale
has never cancelled any games under
such circumstances. The boys in blue
went on against Chicago knowing
nothing of what they might have to do,
save one thing; that Yale must not be
beaten. And they did their duty.
With every succeeding game the Yale
team was growing—growing older and
wiser, and not being beaten. Every
match was a lesson, and many were
terribly hard ones, but they learned
them. :
Then came the week of the Harvard
game. These boys, who had been
tugging away since the first of Septem-
ber, were better men now than when
Brown gave them their baptism of fire.
But most of them had only heard of a
Harvard game—not even seen. one—
still less taken part in one. And the
game was to be at Cambridge, in the
heart of the enemy’s country. Har-
vard, who: had beaten Brown all to
pieces, who had doubled and trébled
most of Yale’s scores—Harvard was
waiting for that long-deferred opportu-
nity at Yale. Some of the boys in blue
remembered Yale’s record against Har-
vard with a thrill of satisfaction, and
then a chill, as they thought that it
depended upon them to keep that Yale
goal safe this year. Then the day was
at hand. The last words of the coach-
es rang in their ears and they ran out
on to that great field before twenty-five
thousand people and played for Yale.
The first half was a sort of hurly-
burly to them. A Harvard man went
around the end. Harvard men came
through the line. But there was the
favoring wind and an occasional kick,
and somehow they got along and things
steadied down a little. Then they were
plunging with their own running game
—the same that they had used day after
day, and they lost their stage-fright and
began to walk toward Harvard’s goal.
It came closer and closer, and they
almost believed that they were going
to get there, when something went
wrong and the up-and-down began
again. Then the referee’s whistle blew,
and the first half was over—their half
with the wind! It was a little dreary
to think of that.
But when, in the tent at intermis-
NEW HAVEN, CONN., THURSDAY, NOVEMBER 18, 1897. -
Price Ten Cents.
YALE’S COACHES AND PLAYERS. —
1. F. S. Butterworth.
2. Walter Camp.
3. KF. A. Hinkey.
4, Ray Tompkins.
5. H. 8S. Graves.
6. Dr. J. A. Hartwell.
19. Hine. 22. McBride.
20. Sullivan. 23. Rodgers (Capt.)
21. Cadwalader. 24, Corwin.
25, Hazen.
sion, they looked about upon each face
of player or coach they saw no trace of
discouragement, but a _sternness of
purpose that meant much—how much
it took the second half to tell. When
each one of three or four coaches told
them their faults, for there was no cod-
dling, the team took it like veterans
and only set their teeth the firmer.
And then they went out once more and
faced that wind, and a little accident
gave Harvard the ball and a start
toward the Yale goal. In the twin-
kling of an eye the Harvard assault was
COACHES.
7. W. W. Heffelfinger. 10. W. C. Rhodes.
8. G. T. Adee. 11. V. C. McCormick.
9. L. Hinkey. 12. W. O. Hickok.
8 PLAYERS.
26. Chadwick. 380. Marvin.
27. Benjamin. 31. McGee.
28. Marshall. 32. Post,
29. Brown. . 33. Allen.
throwing itself at the Yale line. Near-
er and nearer these boys in blue felt
the moment coming when Harvard
would go over that goal line. But
something they had learned or breath-
ed in or acquired in some way at New
Haven began to burn in them, and
right on the very edge of the goal—on
their six-yard line—they stood fast,
and for three downs hurled the Har-
vard line back and away!
And then they became men, an old
Yale team, and every moment they
Played they played harder, and the
18. F. T. Murphy. 16. F. W. Wallace.
14. L. T. Bliss. 17. L. M. Bass.
15. H. H. Knapp. 18. G. F. Sanford.
34. Kiefer. 38. Durston.
35. Chamberlin. 39. Dudley.
36. deSaulles. 40. Conner.
37. Hall.
Harvard runners went back more eas-
ily; and the sun shone; and before the
referee called time those boys in blue
had begun to march up that Soldiers’
Field into the teeth of the wind and the
Harvard team. And they didn’t want
to stop, but longed for more of it;
more time to play, more time to make
a touchdown. For they were past the
fear of defeat.
All Yale has a right to love such a
team, for they have taken good care of
her colors. Here’s the best of luck
to Mr. Butterworth and his sandy boys
in blue! WALTER CAMP.
