I never hear the expression "team mates" used but I recall a certain
Princeton team, the captain of which was endowed with a wonderful power
of leadership. There was nothing the men would not do for him. Every man
on the team regarded him as a big brother. Yet there was one man on the
squad who seemed inclined to be alone. He had little to say, and when
his work was over on the field he always went silently away to his room.
He did not mingle with the other players in the club house after dinner,
and there did not seem to be much warmth in him.

Garry Cochran, the captain, took some of us into his confidence, and we
made it our business to draw this fellow out of his shell. It was not
long before we found that he was an entirely different sort of a person
from what he had seemed to be.

In a short time, the fellow who was unconsciously retarding good
fellowship among the members of the team was no longer a silent negative
individual, but was soon urging us on in a get-together spirit.

It will be impossible to relate all the good times had at a college
training table. I think that every football man will agree with me that
we now have a great deal of sympathy for the trainer, whereas in the old
days we roasted him when it seemed that dinner would never be ready.

How the hungry mob awaited the signal!

"The flag is down," as old Jim Robinson would say, and Arthur Poe would
yell:

"Fellows, the hash is ready."