“I received the broken ribs in the first half when Percy Jaffrey fell on me with a proper intention of having me drop a fumbled ball behind our goal line, which would have given Harvard an additional touchdown instead of a touchback.  I did not know just what had gone wrong but tried to help it out by putting a shin guard under my jersey over the ribs during the intermission.  No one knew I was hurt.

“In the second half I tried to stop one of Ben Dibblee’s runs on a punt and got a broken collar-bone, but not Dibblee.  About the end of the game we managed to work a successful double pass and I carried the ball to Harvard’s ten-yard line when Charlie Daly, who was playing back on defense, stopped any chance we had of scoring by a hard tackle.  There was no getting away from him that day, and as I had to carry the ball in the wrong arm with no free arm to use to ward him off, I presume, I got off pretty well with only a sprained shoulder.  The next play ended the game, when Stub Chamberlin tried a quick place goal from the field and, on a poor pass and on my poor handling of the ball, hit the goal post and the ball bounded back.  I admit that just about that time the whistle sounded pretty good as apparently the entire Harvard team landed on us in their attempt to block a kick.”

Val Flood, once a trainer at Princeton, recalls a game at New Haven, when Princeton was playing Yale: 

“Frank Bergen was quarterback,” he says.  “I saw he was not going right, and surprised the coaches by asking them to make a change.  They asked me to wait.  In a few minutes I went to them again, with the same result.  I came back a third time, and insisted that he be taken out.  A substitute was put in.  I will never forget Bergen’s face when he burst into tears and asked me who was responsible for his being taken out.  I told him I was.  It almost broke his heart, for he had always regarded me as a friend.  I knew how much he wanted to play the game out.  He lived in New Haven.  When the doctor examined him, it was found that he had three broken ribs.  There was great danger of one of them piercing his lungs had he continued in the game.  Of course, there are lots of boys that are willing to do such things for their Alma Mater, but the gamest of all is the man who, with a broken neck to start with, went out and put in four years of college football.  I refer to Eddie Hart, who was not only the gamest, but one of the strongest, quickest, cleanest men that ever played the game, and any one who knows Eddie Hart and those who have seen him play, know that he never saved himself but played the game for all it was worth.  He was the life and spirit of every team he ever played on at Exeter or Princeton.”

Ed Wylie, an enthusiastic Hill School Alumnus, football player at Hill and Yale, tells the following anecdote: