believes that in a sense these two teams belong to it. It is not
uncommon to find men who have had no connection with either academy in
hot argument as to the relative merits of the teams.

Once in the stands some apparently trifling thing begets a partisanship
that this class of spectator is wont to wonder at after it is all over.

Whether in Philadelphia in the earlier history of these contests on
neutral ground, or in New York, Army and Navy Day has become by tacit
consent the nearest thing to a real gridiron holiday. For the civilian
who has been starved for thrilling action and the chance to cheer
through the autumn days, the jam at the hotels used as headquarters by
the followers of the two elevens satisfies a yearning that he has
hitherto been unable to define. There too, is found a host of old-time
college football men and coaches who hold reunion and sometimes even
bury hatchets. Making his way through the crowds and jogging elbows with
the heroes of a sport that he understands only as organized combat he
becomes obsessed with the spirit of the two fighting institutions.

Once in possession of the coveted ticket he hies himself to the field as
early as possible, if he is wise, in order to enjoy the preliminaries
which are unlike those at any other game. Soon his heart beats faster,
attuned to the sound of tramping feet without the gates. The measured
cadence swells, draws nearer, and the thousands rise as one, when first
the long gray column and then the solid ranks of blue swing out upon the
field. The precision of the thing, the realization that order and system
can go so far as to hold in check to the last moment the enthusiasms of
these youngsters thrills him to the core. Then suddenly gray ranks and
blue alike break for the stands, there to cut loose such a volume of now
orderly, now merely frenzied noise as never before smote his ears.