ania territory,
slowed up, hung for an instant in the air and then was swept back to a
point approximating the line from where it started.

"It was the most helpless and exasperating feeling that I ever
experienced. The football player who can conceive of a game in which
under no circumstances was it permissible to kick, but instead provided
a penalty, can perhaps appreciate the circumstances.

"In the second half, when we changed goals, the flags hung limply
against their staffs, but we had spent ourselves in the unequal contest
during the first half."

Nightmares, even those of football, do not always beget sympathy. Upon
occasion a deal of fun is poked at the victim, and this holds true even
in the family circle.

Tom Shevlin was noted as the father of a great many good stories, but it
was proverbial that he refrained from telling one upon himself. However,
in at least one instance he deviated from habit to the extent of
relating an incident concerning his father and the father of Charlie
Rafferty, captain of the Yale 1903 eleven. Tom at the time was a
sophomore, and Shevlin, senior, who idolized his son, made it a practice
of attending all important contests in which he participated, came on
from Minneapolis in his private car to witness the spectacle of Tom's
single-handed defeat of "The Princetons." As it chanced the Shevlin car
was put upon a siding adjoining that on which the car of Gill Rafferty
lay. Rafferty, as a matter of fact, was making his laborious way down
the steps as Mr. Shevlin emerged from his car. Mr. Rafferty looked up,
blinked in the November sunlight and then nodded cheerfully. "Well,
Shevlin," he said, "I suppose by to-night we'll be known simply as the
fathers of two great Yale favorites." Shevlin nodded and said "he
fancied such would be the case." A few hours later, in the gloom of the
twilight, after Yale had been defeated, the elder Shevlin was finding
his somber way to the steps of his car and met Rafferty face to face.
Shevlin nodded and was about to pass on without speaking, when Rafferty
placed his hand upon his shoulder. "Well, Shevlin," he said solemnly, "I
see we are still old man Shevlin and old man Rafferty."

W. C. Rhodes

One has only to hear Jim Rodgers tell the story of Billy Rhodes to
realize how deeply the iron of football disaster sinks into the soul.

"Rhodes was captain of the losing team in the fall of '90, when Yale's
Eleven was beaten by Harvard's," Rodgers t