I knew a great guard whose whole heart was set on making the Princeton team, and on playing against Yale.  This man made the team.  In a Princeton-Columbia game he was trying his best to stop that wonderful Columbia player, Harold Weekes, who with his great hurdling play was that season’s sensation.  In his hurdling he seemed to take his life in his hands, going over the line of the opposing team feet first.  When the great guard of the Princeton team to whom I refer tried to stop Weekes, his head collided with Weekes’ feet and was badly cut.

The trainer rushed upon the field, sponged and dressed the wound and the guard continued to play.  But that night it was discovered that blood poisoning had set in.  There was gloom on the team when this became known.  But John Dana, lying there injured in the hospital, and knowing how badly his services were needed in the coming game with Yale, with his ambition unsatisfied, used his wits to appear better than he really was in order to get discharged from the hospital and back on the team.

The physician who attended him has told me since that Dana would keep his mouth open slyly when the nurse was taking his temperature so that it would not be too high and the chart would make it appear that he was all right.

At any rate, he seemed to improve steadily, and finally reported to the trainer, Jim Robinson, two days before the Yale game.  He was full of hope and the coaches decided to have Robinson give him a try-out, so that they could decide whether he was as fit as he was making it appear he was.

I shall never forget watching that heroic effort, as Robinson took him out behind the training house, to make the final test.  With a head-gear, especially made for him, Dana settled down in his regular position, ready for the charge, anticipating the oncoming Yale halfback and throbbing with eagerness to tackle the man with the ball.

Then he plunged forward, both arms extended, but handicapped by his terrible injury, he toppled over upon his face, heart-broken.  The spirit was there, but he was physically unfit for the task.

The Yale game started without Dana, and as he sat there on the side lines and saw Princeton go down to defeat, he was overcome with the thought of his helplessness.  He was needed, but he didn’t have a chance.

CHAPTER XIV

BRINGING HOME THE BACON

Happy is the thought of victory, and while we realize that there should always be eleven men in every play, each man doing his duty, there frequently comes a time in a game, when some one man earns the credit for winning the game, and brings home the bacon.  Maybe he has been the captain of the team, with a wonderful power of leadership which had held the Eleven together all season and made his team a winning one.  From the recollections of some of the victories, from the experiences of the men who participated in them and made victory possible, let us play some of those games over with some of the heroes of past years.