Book: Football Days

W >> William H. Edwards >> Football Days




"I have been at Michigan fifteen seasons. My 1901 team is perhaps the
most remarkable in the history of football in many ways. It scored 550
points to opponents' nothing, and journeyed 3500 miles. We played
Stanford on New Year's day, using no substitutes. On this great team
were Neil Snow, and the remarkable quarterback Boss Weeks. Willie
Heston, who was playing his first year at Michigan, was another star on
this team. A picture of Michigan's great team appears on the opposite
page.

"Boss Weeks' two teams scored more than 1200 points. If that team had
been in front of the Chinese Wall and got the signal to go, not a man
would have hesitated. Every man that played under Boss Weeks idolized
him, and when word was brought to the university that he had died, every
Michigan man felt that its university had lost one of its greatest men.

"I am perhaps more of a boy's man to-day than I ever was. There is a
great satisfaction in feeling that you have an influence in the lives of
the men under you. Coaching is a sacred job. There's no question about
it.

"There is a wonderful athletic spirit at Michigan, and when we have mass
meetings in the Hill Auditorium 6000 men turn out. At such a time one
feels the great power behind an athletic team. Some of the great
Michigan football players within my recollection were Jimmy Baird, Jack
McLain, Neil Snow, Boss Weeks, Tom Hammond, Willie Heston, Herrnstein,
grand old Germany Schultz, Benbrook, Stan Wells, Dan McGugin, Dave
Allerdice, Hugh White and others I might mention on down to John
Maulbetsch."

Reggie Brown is probably one of the most famous of the Harvard coaches.
His work in Harvard football is to find out what the other teams are
doing. He is on hand at Yale Field every Saturday when the Yale team
plays. He is unique in his scouting work, in that he carries his
findings in his head. His memory is his mental note book.

[Illustration:

Craft McGugin Gregory Yost Graver Baird Fitzpatrick
Wilson Snow White Shorts Heston
Sweeley Weeks Redden Redner Herrnstein

MICHIGAN'S FAMOUS 1901 TEAM]

In talking with Harvard men I have found that the general impression is
that the work of this coach is one of Harvard's biggest assets.

Jimmy Knox of Harvard is one of Haughton's most valued scouts. Every
fall Princeton is his haven of scouting. He does it most successfully
and in a truly sportsmanlike way.

One day en route to Princeton I met Knox on the train and sat with him
as far as Princeton Junction. When we arrived at Princeton, a friend of
mine called me aside and said:

"Who is that loyal Princeton man who seems never to miss a game?"

"He is not a Princeton man," I replied. "He is Knox the Harvard scout.
He will be with Haughton to-morrow at Cambridge with his dope book."

"From questions asked me I am quite sure that there is an utter
misconception of the work of the scouts for the big league teams," says
Jimmy. "I have frequently been asked how I get in to see the practice of
our opponents, how I manage to get their signals, how I anticipate what
they are going to do, what is the value of scouting anyway. From five
years' experience, I can say that I have never seen our opponents
except in public games. I have never unconsciously noted a signal even
for a kick, much less made a deliberate attempt to learn the opponents'
signals or code. What little I know of their ultimate plans is merely by
applying common sense to their problem, based on the material and
methods which they command. As to the value of scouting, volumes might
be written, but suffice it to say that it is the principal means of
standardizing the game. If the big teams of the country played
throughout the season in seclusion, the final games would be a
hodge-podge of varying systems which would curtail the interest of the
spectator and all but block the development of the game.

"The reports of the scouts give the various coaching corps a fixed
objective so that the various teams come to their final game with what
might be considered a uniform examination to pass. The result is a
steady, logical development of the game from the inside and the maximum
interest for the spectator. It is unfortunate that the public has
misconstrued scouting to mean spying, for there is nothing underhanded
in the scouting department of football as any big team coach will
testify."

Knox tells of an interesting experience of his Freshman year.

"I never hear the question debated as to whether character is born in a
man or developed as time goes on," says he, "without recalling my first
meeting with Marshall Newell, probably the best loved man that ever
graduated from Harvard. In the middle '90's it was considered beneath
the dignity of a former Varsity player to coach any but Varsity
candidates. Marshall Newell was an exception. Without solicitation he
came over to the Freshman field many times and gave us youngsters the
benefit of his advice. On his first trip he went into the lineup and
gave us an example of how the game could be played by a master. When the
practice was over, Ma Newell came up to me and said: 'I guess I was a
little rough, my boy, but I just wanted to test your grit. You had
better come over to the Varsity field to-morrow with two or three of the
other fellows that I am going to speak to. I'll watch you and help you
after you get there.' And he did. He was loved because he was big enough
to disregard convention, to sympathize with the less proficient and to
make an inferior feel as if he were on a plane of equality. The highest
type of manhood was born with Marshall Newell and developed through
every hour of a too short life.

"Only those who played football in the old days and have carefully
followed it since appreciate the difference in the two types of game. I
frequently wonder if the old type of game did not develop more in a man
than the modern. As a freshman I was playing halfback on the second
Varsity one afternoon when a sudden blow knocked me unconscious while
the play was at one end of the field. When I regained consciousness the
play was at the other end of the field, not a soul was near me or
thinking of me. I had hardly got within ear-shot of the scrimmage when I
heard Lewis, one of the Varsity coaches, call out, 'Come on, get in
here, they can't kill fellows like you.' I went into the scrimmage and
played the rest of the afternoon. It was a simple incident, but I
learned two lessons of life from it: first, you can expect mighty little
sympathy when you are down; second, you are not out if you will only go
back and stick to it."

Dartmouth holds a unique position in college football. There are many
men who were responsible for Dartmouth's success, men who have stood by
year after year and worked out the football policy there.

It is my experience that Dartmouth men universally call Ed Hall the
father of Dartmouth football. He has served faithfully on the Rules
Committee as well as an official in the game.

Myron E. Witham, that great player and captain of the Dartmouth team
which was victorious over Harvard the day that Harvard opened the
Stadium, says: "If one goes back to Hanover and visits the trophy room
he will see hanging there the winning football which Dartmouth men glory
over as they recall that wonderful victory over Harvard. Ed Hall is the
man who is often called upon to speak to the men between the halves.
His talks have a telling effect. Hall's name is traditional at our
college."

There are many football enthusiasts who recall that wonderful backfield
that Dartmouth had, McCornack, Eckstrom, McAndrews and Crolius. These
men got away wonderfully fast and hit the line like one man. They played
every game without a substitute for two years.

Fred Crolius, who takes great delight in recalling the old days, has the
following to say about one who coached:

"One man, whose influence more than any other one thing, succeeded in
laying a foundation for Dartmouth's wonderful results, but whose name is
seldom mentioned in that connection is Doctor Wurtenberg, who was
brought up in the early Yale football school. He had the keenest sense
of fundamental football and the greatest intensity of spirit in
transmitting his hard earned knowledge. Four critical years he worked
with us filling every one with his enthusiasm and those four years
Dartmouth football gained such headway that nothing could stop its
growth."

Enough space cannot be given to pay proper tribute to Walter McCornack,
Dartmouth '97.

Myron Witham relates a humorous incident that happened in practice when
McCornack was coach at Dartmouth. "Mac's serious and exacting demeanor
on the practice field occasionally relaxed to enjoy a humorous
situation. He chose to give a personal demonstration of my position and
duty as quarterback in a particular formation around the end. He took my
place and giving the proper signal, the team or rather ten-elevenths of
the team went through with the play, leaving Mac behind standing in his
tracks. Mac naturally was at a loss to locate the quarter, during the
execution of the play and madly yelled, 'Where in the devil is that
quarterback?' But immediately joined with the squad in the joke upon
himself."

McCornack coached Dartmouth in the falls of 1901 and 1902. He brought
the team up from nothing to a two years' defeat of Brown and two years'
scoring on Harvard. The game with Harvard in the fall of 1902 resulted
in a score of 16 to 6, Dartmouth out-rushing Harvard at least 3 to 1.

McCornack then resigned, but left a wealth of material and a scientific
game at Dartmouth, which was as good as any in the country. This was the
beginning of Dartmouth's success in modern football, and for it
McCornack has been named the father of modern football at Dartmouth.

The greatest compliment ever paid McCornack, in so far as athletics were
concerned, was by President William Jewett Tucker of Dartmouth, who told
an alumnus of the institution:

"The discipline that McCornack maintained on the football field at
Dartmouth was to the advantage of the general discipline of the
institution."

For ten years after McCornack had stopped coaching at Dartmouth, the
captain of the Dartmouth team would wear his sweater in a Harvard game
as an emblem to go by. The sweater is now worn out, and no one knows
where it is.

If Eddie Holt's record at Princeton told of nothing else than the making
of a great guard, this would be enough to establish Holt's ability as a
guard coach. Eddie and Sam Craig played alongside of each other in the
Yale defeat of '97. Holt says:

"The story of the making of Sam Craig is the old story of the stone the
builders rejected, which is now the head stone of the corner. Sam never
forgot the '97 defeat and I never have myself. After this game Sam gave
up football, although he was eligible to play. Two years later, after
Princeton had been defeated by Cornell, something had to be done to
strengthen the Princeton line. Sam Craig was at the Seminary. I
remembered him," said Holt, "and went over to his room and told him that
he was needed. I shall never forget how his face lit up as he felt there
was an opportunity to serve Princeton and a chance to play on a winning
team; a chance to come back. He responded to my hurry call, eager to
make good. Coaching him was the finest thing I ever did in football.
Good old Sam, I can see him now, standing on the side lines telling me
that he guessed he was no good. You can never imagine how happy I was to
see him improve day by day after I had taken a hold of him. The great
game he played against Yale in '99 will always be one of my happiest
recollections in football. My joy was supreme; the joy that comes to a
coach as he sees his man make good--Sam sure did."

It is very doubtful whether the inside story of Harvard's victory over
Yale in 1908 has ever been told. Those who remember this game know that
the way for victory was paved by Ver Wiebe and Vic Kennard. Harry
Kersburg, a Harvard coach, writes of that incident:

"The summer of 1907 and 1908, Kennard worked for several hours each day
perfecting his kicking. This fact was known to only one of the coaches.
In 1906 and 1907, Kennard played as a substitute but was most
unfortunate in being smashed up in nearly every game in which he played.
On account of this record, he was given little or no attention at the
beginning of the 1908 season, even though the one coach who had great
confidence in Kennard's ability as a kicker rooted hard for him at every
coaches' meeting. About the middle of the season, Dave Campbell came on
from the West and with the one lone coach became interested in Kennard.
On the day of the Springfield Training School game, most of the Harvard
coaches went down to New Haven, leaving the team in charge of Campbell
and Kennard's other rooter. The psychological moment had arrived. Just
as soon as the Harvard team had rolled up a tidy little score, Kennard
was sent into the game and instructions were given to the quarterback
that he was to signal for a drop kick every time the Harvard team was
within forty yards of the opponent's goal--no matter what the angle
might be. The game ended with Kennard having kicked four goals from the
field out of six tries. Nearly all of them were kicked from an average
distance of thirty yards and at very difficult angles. At the next
coaches' meeting serious consideration was given to what Kennard had
done and from that time on he came into his own.

"Now for Rex Ver Wiebe. For two years he had plugged away at a line
position on the second team. In his senior year he was advanced to the
Varsity squad. With all his hard work it seemed impossible for him to
develop into anything but a mediocre lineman. The line coaches, with
much regret, had about given up all hope. One afternoon, two weeks
before the Yale game, one of the line coaches was standing on the side
lines talking with Pooch Donovan about Ver Wiebe. Pooch said little, but
kept a close watch on Ver Wiebe for the next two or three days. At the
end of that time he came out with the statement that if Ver Wiebe could
be taught how to start, he would rapidly develop into one of the best
halfbacks on the squad. Pooch's advice was followed and in the Yale
game, Ver Wiebe's rushes outside tackle were one of the features of the
game and were directly responsible for the ball being brought down the
field to such a position that it was possible to substitute Kennard, who
kicked a goal from the field and won the first victory for Harvard
against Yale in many years.

"It is a strange coincidence that the first of Harvard's string of
victories against Yale was won by two men who a few weeks before the
game were in the so-called football discard."

No greater honor can be accorded a football man than the invitation to
come back to his Alma Mater and take charge of the football situation.
Such a man has been selected after he has served efficiently at other
institutions, for it takes long experience to become a great coach and
there are very few men who have given up all their time to consecutive
coaching.

Successful coaches, as a rule, are men who have a genius for it, and
whose strong personalities bring out the natural ability of the men
under them. Successful football is the result of a good system, plus
good material.

Of the men who coach to-day, the experience of John H. Rush, popularly
known as Speedy Rush, stands out as unique. Rush never played football,
for he preferred track athletics, but he understood the theory of the
game. At the University School in Cleveland where Rush taught for
many years, he took charge of the football team, and although coaching
mere boys, his results were marvelous, and in 1915, when the Princeton
coaching system was in a slough of despond, it was decided to give Rush
an opportunity to show what he could do at Princeton.

[Illustration:

Metcalf Peterson Mumford Monroe Elmer Stover Donnell Norton Dwyer Weed
Bullwinkle McCabe Franklin Schulte Thorpe Moffat Simmonds
DeGraff Buermeyer Cochran Fairfield Todd Thompson
Calder Aimee Noble Gallagher Wadleton

COLUMBIA BACK IN THE GAME, 1915]

Rush makes no boasts. He is a silent worker, and football people at
large were unanimous in their praise of his work at Princeton in the
fall of 1915. Whatever the future holds in store for this coach,
Princeton men at least are sure that an efficient policy has been
established which will be followed out year after year, and that the
loyal support of the Alumni is behind Rush.

There was never a time in Yale's history when so much general discussion
and care entered into the selection of its football coach as in 1915.
From the long list of Yale football graduates the honor was bestowed
upon Tad Jones, a man whose remarkable playing record at Yale is well
known. Football records tell of his wonderful runs. His personality
enables him to get close to the men, and he was wonderfully successful
at Exeter, coaching his old school. Tad Jones represents one of the
highest types of college athletes.

In 1915 when the college authorities decided Columbia might re-enter the
football arena, after a lapse of ten years, it was a wonderful victory
for the loyal Columbia football supporters. A most thorough and
exhaustive search was then made for the proper man to teach Columbia the
new football. The man who won the Committee's unanimous vote was Thomas
N. Metcalf, who played football at Oberlin, Ohio. Metcalf earned
recognition in his first year. He realized that Columbia's re-entrance
into football must be gradual, and his schedule was arranged
accordingly. He developed Miller, a quarterback who stood on a par with
the best quarterbacks in 1915. Columbia had great confidence in Metcalf,
and the pick of the old men, notably Tom Thorp, one of the gamest
players any team ever had, volunteered their aid.

One of the most prominent football coaches which Pennsylvania boasts of
to-day, is Bob Folwell. Always a brilliant player, full of spirit and
endowed with a great power of leadership, he was a huge success as a
coach at Lafayette. His team beat Princeton. At Washington and
Jefferson, he beat Yale twice. His ability as a coach was watched
carefully not only by the graduates of Penn, but by the football world
as a whole.

In 1916 this hard-working, energetic up-to-date coach assumed control of
the football situation on Franklin Field.




CHAPTER XX

UMPIRE AND REFEREE


There is a group of individuals connected with football to whom the
football public pays little attention, until at a most inopportune time
in the game, a whistle is blown, or a horn is tooted and you see a
presumptuous individual stepping off a damaging five yard penalty
against your favorite team. At such a time you arise in your wrath and
demand: "Who is that guy anyway? Where did he come from? Why did he give
that penalty?" Other muffled tributes are paid him.

In calmer moments you realize that the officials are the caretakers of
football. They see to it that the game is preserved to us year after
year.

An official is generally a man who has served his time as a player.
Those days over, he enters the arena as Umpire, Referee or Linesman.

One who has a keen desire to succeed in this line of work ought to train
himself properly for the season's work. In anticipation of the
afternoon's work, he must get his proper sleep; no night cafes or late
hours should be his before a big contest.

The workings of football minds towards an official are most narrow and
critical at times. The really wise official will remain away from both
teams until just before the game, lest some one accuse him of being too
familiar with the other side. He can offer no opinion upon the game
before the contest.

Each college has its preferred list of officials. Much time is given to
the selection of officials for the different games. Before a man can be
chosen for any game it must be shown that he has had no ancestors at
either of the colleges in whose game he will act and that he is always
unprejudiced. At the same time the fact that a man has been approved as
a football official by three of four big colleges is about as fine a
football diploma as any one would wish.

For the larger games an official receives one hundred dollars and
expenses. This seems a lot of money for an afternoon's work just for
sport's sake, but there are many officials on the discarded list to-day
who would gladly return all the money they ever received, if they could
but regain their former popularity and prestige in the game. Certainly
an official is not an over-paid man.

The wise official arrives at the field only a scant half hour before the
game. Generally the head coach sends for you, and as he takes you to a
secluded spot he describes in his most serious way an important play he
will use in the game. He tells you that it is within the rules, but for
some curious reason, anxiously asks your opinion. He informs you that
the _opposing_ team has a certain play which is clearly illegal and
wants you to watch for it constantly. He furthermore warns you solemnly
that the other team is going to try to put one of his best players out
of the game and beseeches you to anticipate this cowardly action, and
you smile inwardly. Football seriousness is oftentimes amusing. Some of
our best Umpires always have a little talk with the team before the
game.

I often remember the old days when Paul Dashiell, the famous Umpire,
used to come into our dressing room. Standing in the center of the room,
he would make an appeal to us in his earnest, inimitable way, not to
play off-side. He would explain just how he interpreted holding and the
use of arms in the game. He would urge us to be thoroughbreds and to
play the game fair; to make it a clean game, so that it might be
unnecessary to inflict penalties. "Football," he would say, "is a game
for the players, not for the officials." Then he would depart, leaving
behind him a very clear conviction with us that he meant business. If we
broke the rules our team would unquestionably suffer.

Some of my most pleasant football recollections are those gained as an
official in the game. I count it a rare privilege to have worked in many
games year after year where I came in close contact with the players on
different college teams; there to catch their spirit and to see the
working out of victories and defeats at close range.

Here it is that one comes in close touch with the great power of
leadership, that "do or die" spirit, which makes a player ready to go in
a little harder with each play. Knocked over, he comes up with a grin
and sets his jaw a little stiffer for next time.

As an official you are often thrilled as you see a man making a great
play; you long to pat him on the back and say, "Well done!" If you see
an undiscovered fumbled ball you yearn to yell out--"Here it is!" But
all this you realize cannot be done unless one momentarily forgets
himself like John Bell.

"My recollection is that I acted as an official in but one game," says
he. "I was too intense a partisan. Nevertheless, I was pressed into
service in a Lehigh-Penn game in the late '80's. I recall that Duncan
Spaeth, now Professor of English at Princeton and coach of the Princeton
crew, was playing on Pennsylvania's team. He made a long run with the
ball; was thrown about the 20-yard line; rose, pushed on and was thrown
again between the 5- and 10-yard line. Refusing to be downed, he
continued to roll over a number of times, with several Lehigh players
hanging on to him, until finally he was stopped, within about a foot of
the goal line. Forgetting his official duties, in the excitement of
the moment, it is alleged that the referee (myself) jumped up and down
excitedly, calling out: 'Roll over, Spaethy, just _once_ more!' And
Spaethy did. A touchdown resulted. But the Referee's fate after the game
was like that of St. Stephen--he was stoned."

[Illustration: CLOSE TO A THRILLER

Erwin of Pennsylvania Scoring Against Cornell.]

In the old days one official used to handle the entire game. A man would
even officiate in a game where his own college was a contestant. This
was true in the case of Walter Camp, Tracy Harris, and other heroes of
the past. Later the number of officials was increased. Such a list
records Wyllys Terry, Alex Moffat, Pa Corbin, Ray Tompkins, S. V.
Coffin, Appleton and other men who protected the game in the early
stages.

Within my recollection, for many years the two most prominent, as well
as most efficient officials, whose names were always coupled, were
McClung, Referee, and Dashiell, Umpire. No two better officials ever
worked together and there is as much necessity for team work in
officiating as there is in playing. Both graduated from Lehigh, and the
prominent position that they took in football was a source of great
satisfaction to their university.

Officials come and go. These men have had their day, but no two ever
contributed better work. The game of Football was safe in their hands.

Copyright (c) 2007. knowncrafts.net. All rights reserved.