e the opening to enter preliminary training.
Every football player who has had the experience of being summoned ahead
of time will understand my feeling. I was very happy when I received
from Cochran, during the summer before I entered Princeton, a letter
inviting me to report for football practice two weeks before college
opened. When I arrived at Princeton on the appointed day, I found the
candidates for the team at the training quarters.

At that time freshmen were not barred from varsity teams.

There was a reunion of friends from Lawrenceville and other schools.
There was Doc Hillebrand, against whom I had played in the Andover game
the year before. Eddie Holt loomed up and I recalled him as the big
fellow who played on the Andover team against Lawrenceville two years
before. He had gone from Andover to Harvard and had played on the
Harvard team the year before, and had decided to leave Harvard and
enter Princeton.

There were Lew Palmer, Bummie Booth, Arthur Poe, Bert Wheeler, Eddie
Burke and many others whom I grew to know well later on.

Trainer Jack McMasters was on the job and put us through some very
severe preliminary training. It was warm in New Jersey early in
September, and often in the middle of practice Jack would occasionally
play the hose on us. It did not take us long to learn that varsity
football training was much more strenuous than that of the preparatory
school. The vigorous programme, prepared, especially for me, convinced
me that McMasters and the coaches had decided that my 224 pounds were
too much weight. Jack and I used to meet at the field house four
mornings each week. He would array me in thick woolen things, and top
them off with a couple of sweaters, so that I felt as big as a house. He
would then take me out for an excursion of eight miles across country,
running and walking. Sometimes other candidates kept us company, but
only Jack and I survived.

On these trips, I would lose anywhere from five to six pounds. I got
accustomed to this jaunt and its discomforts after a while, but there
was one thing that always aggravated me. While Jack made me suffer, he
indulged himself. He would stop at a favorite spring of his, kneel down
and take a refreshing drink, right before my very eyes, and then,
although my throat was parched, he would bar me even from wetting my
tongue. He was decidedly unsociable, but from a training standpoint, he
was entirely "on to his job."

As both captain an