Summary

Various Harper's Round Table, November 24…

The ball is back almost in the middle of the field again, when suddenly the warning whistle sounds shrilly, and the first half is over. A great buzz goes up from thousands of seats as the spectators discuss the details of the game, and, long before one expects them, the players are trooping back. Hair all adrip from the hurried sponging that the rubbers have given their grimy faces, bodies still atingle from the stinging alcohol rub-downs, with the hoarse, earnest, words of the graduate coachers still ringing in their ears, they line up for the bitter second half.
Source: Gutenberg

Various Harper's Round Table, November 24…

Larned looks down into Teddie's face scarce ten yards away. It shows very white now underneath the grime and sweat, while the blood, oozing from a cut in the forehead, clots blackly in little streams down the side of his face. But, strangely enough, the pater forgets to characterize the whole thing as brutal. In fact, his teeth are clinched as grimly as his son's as he leans far forward to see every move of the game, and his heart goes out to those "young savages" who are making such a dogged up-hill fight of it.
And now the ball is on the twenty-yard line, diagonally from the goal.
Source: Gutenberg

Various Harper's Round Table, November 24…

The short and chunky Teddie takes a run, his foot swings and strikes the ball with what seems hardly more than a gentle touch, but the oval is spinning clear down to the other end of the field, followed by the terrible rush of the whole Yale team. It is caught by a running Princeton man, who, with a swerve of his body, avoids the spring of one runner, hurls another aside with the "straight-arm," and comes tearing down the field like a deer. A tremendous shout from the wearers of the orange and black masses is bitten off with surprising abruptness.
Source: Gutenberg

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