"I first played on the '92 team," he says. "We had two Navy games before
this, but they were not much as I look back upon them. At this time we
had for practice that period of Saturday afternoon after inspection.
That gave us from about 3 P. M. on. We also had about fifteen
minutes between dinner and the afternoon recitations, and such days as
were too rainy to drill, and from 5:45 A. M., to 6:05 A. M.
Later in the year when it grew too cold to drill, we had the
time after about 4:15 P. M., but it became dark so early that
we didn't get much practice. We practiced signals even by moonlight.

"Visiting teams used to watch us at inspection, two o'clock. We were in
tight full dress clothes, standing at attention for thirty to forty-five
minutes just before the game. A fine preparation for a stiff contest. We
had quite a character by the name of Stacy, a Maine boy. He was a
thickset chap, husky and fast. He never knew what it was to be stopped.
He would fight it out to the end for every inch. Early in one of the
Yale games he broke a rib and started another, but the more it hurt, the
harder he played. In a contest with an athletic club in the last
non-collegiate game we ever played, the opposing right tackle was
bothering us. In a scrimmage Stacy twisted the gentleman's nose very
severely and then backed away, as the man followed him, calling out to
the Umpire. Stacy held his face up and took two of the nicest punches in
the eyes that I ever saw. Of course, the Umpire saw it, and promptly
ruled the puncher out, just as Stacy had planned.

"Just before the Spanish War Stacy became ill. Orders were issued that
regiments should send officers to the different cities for the purpose
of recruiting. He was at this time not fit for field service, so was
assigned to this duty. He protested so strongly that in some way he was