"I had a house built under the grandstand where every man from our team
was stripped, rubbed dry and put into a new suit of clothes, also given
a certain amount of hot drink as seemed necessary. This was a thing
which had never been done before, and in my opinion had a large
influence in deciding the game in Harvard's favor; as the men went out
upon the field in the second half almost as fresh as when they started
the first half.

"I remember that I had not seen a victory over Yale since I was
graduated from college in 1879. Some of the suggestions that I made
about the time men should be played were laughed at. The standpoint I
took was that a man should not be allowed by the coach to play until he
was deemed fit. The physician in charge was also a matter of serious
discussion. Many of these points are now so well established that to the
present generation it is hardly possible to make them realize that from
1890 to 1895 it was necessary to make a fight to establish certain
well-known methods.

"What would the present football man think of being played for one and
one-half hours whether he was in shape or not? The present football man
does not appreciate what some of the older college graduates went
through in order to bring about the present reasonable methods adopted
in handling the game."

[Illustration: HOW IT HURTS TO LOSE]

CHAPTER XVIII

NIGHTMARES

There are few players who never experienced defeat in football. At such
a time sadness reigns. Men who are big in mind and body have broken down
and cried bitterly. How often in our experience have we seen men taken
out of the game leaving it as though their hearts would break, only to
go to the side lines, and there through dimmed eyes view the inevitable
defeat, realizing that they were no longer a factor in the struggle.
Such an experience came to Frank Morse in that savage Penn-Princeton
game of years ago at Trenton. He had given of his best; he played a
wonderful game, but through an injury he had to be removed to the side
lines. Let this great hero of the past tell us something about the pangs
of defeat as he summons them to mind in his San Francisco office after
an interval of twenty-two years.

"The average American university football player takes his defeats too
seriously--in the light of my retrospect--much too seriously," writes
Morse. "As my memory harks back to the blubbering bunch of stalwart
young manhood that rent the close air o