ize that you yourself injured
another player, especially one of your own team mates.

In the Brown game of 1898, at Providence, Bosey Reiter, Princeton's star
halfback, made a flying tackle of a Brown runner. The latter was
struggling hard, trying his best to get away from Reiter. At this moment
I was coming along and threw myself upon the Brown man to prevent his
advancing further. In the mixup my weight struck Bosey and fractured his
collar-bone. It was a severe loss to the team, and only one who has had
a similar experience can appreciate my feelings, as well as the team's,
on the journey back to Princeton.

We were to play Yale the following Saturday at Princeton. I knew
Reiter's injury was so serious that he could not possibly play in that
game.

The following Saturday, as that great football warrior lay in his bed at
the infirmary, the whistle blew for the start of the Yale game. We all
realized Reiter was not there: not even on the side lines, and Arthur
Poe said, at the start of the game:

"Play for Bosey Reiter. He can't play for himself to-day."

This spurred us on to better team work and to victory. The attendants at
the hospital told us later that they never had had such a lively
patient. He kept things stirring from start to finish of the gridiron
battle. As the reports of the game were brought to him, he joined in
the thrill of the play.

"My injury proved a blessing," says Reiter, "as it gave me an extra
year, for in those days a year did not count in football, unless you
played against Yale, and when I made the touchdown against Yale the
following season, it was a happy moment for me."

All is not clear sailing in football. The breaks must come some time.
They may come singly or in a bunch, but whenever they do come, it takes
courage to buck the hard luck in the game. Just when things get nicely
under way one of the star players is injured, which means the systematic
team work is handicapped. It is not the team, as a whole that I am
thinking of, but the pangs of sorrow which go down deep into a fellow's
soul, when he finds that he is injured; that he is in the hands of the
doctor. It is then he realizes that he is only a spoke in the big wheel;
that the spirit of the game puts another man in his place. The game goes
on. Nature is left to do her best for him.

Let us for a while consider the player who does not realize, until after
the game is over, that he is hurt. It is after the contest, when