Whenever Brown University men get together and speak of their wonderful quarterbacks, the names of Sprackling and Crowther are always mentioned.  Both of these men were All-American quarterbacks.  Crowther filled the position after Sprackling graduated.  He weighed only 134 pounds, but he gave everything he had in him—­game, though handicapped in weight.  In the Harvard game of that year, about the middle of the second half, Haughton sent word over to Robinson, the Brown coach, that he ought to take the little fellow out; that he was too small to play football, and was in danger of being seriously injured.  Crowther, however, was like an India-rubber ball and not once during the season had he received any sort of injury.  Robby told Crowther what Haughton had suggested, and smiling, the latter said: 

“Tell him not to worry about me; better look out for himself.”

On the next play Crowther took the ball and went around Harvard’s end for forty yards, scoring a touchdown.  After he had kicked the goal, the little fellow came over to the side line, and said to Robby: 

“Send word over to Haughton and ask him how he likes that.  Ask him if he thinks I’m all in?  Perhaps he would like to have me quit now.”

In the Yale game that year Crowther was tackled by Pendleton, one of the big Yale guards.  It so happened that Pendleton was injured several times when he tackled Crowther and time had to be taken out.  Finally the big fellow was obliged to quit, and as he was led off the field, Crowther hurried over to him, reaching up, placed his hands on his shoulder and said: 

“Sorry, old man!  I didn’t mean to hurt you.”  Pendleton, who weighed well over 200 pounds, looked down upon the little fellow, but said never a word.

It is most unpleasant to play in a game where a man is injured.  Yet still more distressing when you realize that you yourself injured another player, especially one of your own team mates.

In the Brown game of 1898, at Providence, Bosey Reiter, Princeton’s star halfback, made a flying tackle of a Brown runner.  The latter was struggling hard, trying his best to get away from Reiter.  At this moment I was coming along and threw myself upon the Brown man to prevent his advancing further.  In the mixup my weight struck Bosey and fractured his collar-bone.  It was a severe loss to the team, and only one who has had a similar experience can appreciate my feelings, as well as the team’s, on the journey back to Princeton.

We were to play Yale the following Saturday at Princeton.  I knew Reiter’s injury was so serious that he could not possibly play in that game.

The following Saturday, as that great football warrior lay in his bed at the infirmary, the whistle blew for the start of the Yale game.  We all realized Reiter was not there:  not even on the side lines, and Arthur Poe said, at the start of the game: 

“Play for Bosey Reiter.  He can’t play for himself to-day.”