A trainer’s life is not always a merry one.  Many things occur that tend to worry him, but he gets a lot of fun out of it just the same.  Huggins says: 

“Some few years ago Brown had a big lineman on its team who had never been to New York, where we went that year to meet Carlisle.  The players put in quite a bit of time jollying him and having all sorts of fun at his expense.  We stopped at one of the big hotels, and the rooms were on the seventh and eighth floors.  In the rooms were the rope fire escapes, common in those days, knotted every foot or so.  The big lineman asked what it was for, and the other fellows told him, but added that this room was the only one so equipped and that he must look sharp that none of the others helped themselves to it for their protection against fire.

“That night, as usual, I was making my rounds after the fellows had gone to bed.  Coming into this player’s room I saw that he was asleep, but that there appeared to be some strange, unusual lump in the bed.  I immediately woke him to find out what it was.  Much to my amusement, I discovered that he had wound about fifteen feet of the rope around his body and I had an awful job trying to assure him that the boys had been fooling him.  Nothing that I could say, however, would convince him, and I left him to resume his slumbers with the rope still wrapped tightly about his body.”

Huggins not only believes that Brown University is a good place to train, but he thinks it is a good place to send his boy.  He has a son who is a freshman at Brown as I write.  Huggins went to Brown in the fall of 1896, as trainer.  Here is another good Huggins story: 

“Sprackling, our All-American quarterback of a few years ago, always had his nerve with him and, however tight the place, generally managed to get out with a whole skin.  But I recall one occasion when the wind was taken out of his sails; he was at a loss what to say or how to act.  We were talking over prospects on the steps in front of the Brown Union one morning just before college opened, the fall that he was captain, when a young chap came up and said: 

“‘Are you Sprackling, Captain of the Team?’

“‘That’s me,’ replied Sprack.

“‘Well, I’m coming out for quarterback,’ the young man declared, ’and I expect to make it.  I can run the 100 in ten-one and the 220 in evens and I’m a good quarterback.  I’m going to beat you out of your job.’

“Sprack, for once in his life, was flustered to death.  When several of the boys who were nearby and had heard the conversation, began to laugh, he grew red in the face and quickly got up and walked away without a word.  But before I could recover myself, the promising candidate had disappeared.”

Harry Tuthill, specialist in knees and ankles, was the first trainer West Point ever had.  When he turned up at the Academy he was none too sure that a football was made of leather and blown up.