the strength of this conviction. The Yale _News_, which went to press
five minutes before the game ended, got out an edition stating that Yale
had won. They had to change that story.

During the seconds preceding Poe's kick for a goal I had a queer
obsession. It was a serious matter to me then. I can recall it now with
amusement. "Big" was a prefix not of my own selection. I had never
appreciated its justification, however, until that moment.

Horace Bannard was playing center. I had my left hand clasped under the
elastic in his trouser leg, ready to form a barrier against the Yale
forwards. Brown, Hale and McBride tried to break through to block the
kick. I thought of a million things but most of all I was afraid of a
blocked kick. To be frank, I was afraid I would block it--that Poe
couldn't clear me, that he would kick the ball into me.

[Illustration: AL SHARPE'S GOAL]

I crouched as low as I could, and the more I worried the larger I seemed
to be and I feared greatly for what might occur behind me. It seemed as
if I were swelling up. But finally, as I realized that the ball had gone
over me and was on its way to the goal, I breathed a sigh of relief and
said,

"Thank God, it cleared!"

How eager we were to get that ball, the hard-earned prize, which now
rests in the Princeton gymnasium, a companion ball to the one of the
1898 victory. Yes, it had all been accomplished, and we were happy. New
Haven looked different to us. It was many years since Princeton had sent