No team ever received more loyal support. It keyed the players up to the
highest pitch of determination. Their spirits, naturally at a high mark,
rose still higher under the warmth of the welcome. Repression was a
thing of the past. Every player was jubilant and did not attempt to
conceal the fact.

The enthusiasm mounted as we neared the scene of the coming battle. As
we entered the field the air was rent by a mighty shout of welcome from
the Princeton hosts. Our hearts palpitated in response to it. There was
not a man of the team that did not feel himself repaid a thousand-fold
for the season's hard knocks.

But this soon gave way to sober thought of the work ahead of us. We were
there for business. Falling on the ball, sprinting and limbering up,
and running through a few signals, we spent the few minutes before the
Yale team came through the corner of the field. The scenes of enthusiasm
that had marked our arrival were repeated, the Yale stand being the
center this time of the maelstrom of cheers. I shall not attempt to
describe our own feelings as we got the first glimpse of our opponents
in the coming fray. Who can describe the sensations of the contestants
in the first moment of a championship game?

But it was not long before the coin had been tossed, and the game was
on. Not a man who has played in the line will ever forget how he tried
to block his man or get down the field and tackle the man with the ball.
I recall most vividly those three strapping Yale center men, Brown, Hale
and Olcott, flanked by Stillman and Francis. There was Al Sharpe and
McBride. Fincke was at quarter.

If there had been any one play during the season that we had had drilled