suit anywhere. He
came out wearing a broad smile.

"No," he said, "it isn't out here, it's out there hanging in the air. We
made a dummy out of it."

And there before me I saw my old uniform stuffed with sawdust. I looked
at myself--in suspense.

After the men have been given the other preliminary work they are taken
to the charging board. The one shown here is used at Yale. It teaches
the men quick starting and the use of their hands. It trains them to
keep their eyes on the ball and impresses them with the fact that if
they start before the ball is put in play, a penalty will follow. A fast
charging line has its great value, and every coach is keen to have the
forwards move fast to clear the way.

Then after the individual coaching is over, the team runs through
signals, and the practice is on. Before very long the head coach
announces that practice is over, and the trainer yells:

"Everybody in on the jump," and you soon find yourself back in the
dressing room.

It does not take you long to get your clothes off and ready for the
bath. How well some of you will recall that after a hard practice you
were content to sit and rest awhile on the bench in the dressing-room.
It may be that, in removing your clothes, you favored an injured knee,
looked at a sprained ankle, or helped some fellow off with his jersey.

What is finer, after a hard day's practice, than to stand beneath a warm
shower and gradually let the water grow cold? Everything is lovely until
some rascal in the bunch throws a cold sponge on you and slaps you
across the back, or turns the cold water on, when you only want hot.

Then comes the dry-off and the rub-down, which seems to soothe all your
bruises. This picture of Pete Balliet standing on the end of a bench,
while Jack McMasters massages an injured knee may recall to many a
football player the day when the trainer was his best friend. From his
wonderful physique it is easy to believe that Balliet must have been the
great center-rush whom the heroes of years ago tell about.

Harry Brown, that great Princeton end-rush, is on the other end of the
bench, being taken care of by Bill Buss, a jovial old colored attendant,
who was for so many years a rubber at Princeton.

I know men who never enthuse over football, but just play from a sense
of college loyalty, and a fear of censure should they not play; who are
sorry that they were ever big or showed any football ability. College
sentiment will n