We all realize what a modest individual the trainer is.  If in a reminiscent mood to change the subject from football to himself, he tells his “ever-on-to-him” admirers some of his achievements in the old days there is immediately evidence of preparedness among the players, as the following salute is given—­with fists beating on the table in unison—­

[Illustration:  The old faithfuls]

“One, two, three! Oh, what a gosh darn lie!”

But deep in every man’s heart, is the keen realization of the trainer’s value, and his eager effort for their success.  His athletic achievements and his record are well known, and appreciated by all.  He is the pulse of the team.

The scrub team at Princeton during my last year was captained by Pop Jones, who was a martyr to the game.  He was thoroughly reliable, and the spirit he instilled into his team mates helped to make our year a successful one.  This picture will recall the long roll of silent heroes in the game, whose joy seemed to be in giving; men who worked their hearts out to see the Varsity improve; men who never got the great rewards that come to the Varsity players, but received only the thrill of doing something constructive.  Their reward is in the victories of others, for every man knows that it is a great scrub that makes a great varsity.  If, as you gaze at this picture of the scrub team, it stirs your memory of the fellows who used to play against you, and, if, in your heart you pay them a silent tribute, you will be giving them only their just due.  To the uncrowned heroes, who found no fame, the men whose hearts were strong, but whose ambitions for a place on the Varsity were never realized, we take off our hats.

The fiercest knocks that John DeWitt’s team ever had at Princeton were in practice against the scrub.  It was in this year, on the last day of practice, that the undergraduates marched in a body down the field, singing and cheering, led by a band of music.  Preliminary practice being over, the scrub team retired to the Varsity field house, to await the signal for the exhibition practice to be given on the Varsity field before the undergraduates.  A surprise had been promised.

While the Varsity team was awaiting the arrival of the scrub team, it was officially announced that the Yale team would soon arrive upon the field, and shortly after this, the scrub team appeared with white “Y’s” sewed on the front of their jerseys.  The scrub players took the Yale players’ names, just as they were to play against Princeton on the coming Saturday.  There was much fun and enthusiasm, when the assumed Hogan would be asked to gain through Cooney, or Bloomer would make a run, and the make-believe Foster Rockwell would urge the pseudo Yale team on to victory.