A former Brown man says that in a Harvard game some few years ago, Brown had been steadily plowing through the Crimson’s left guard.  Goldberg, of the Brown team, had been opening up big holes and Jake High, Brown’s fullback, had been going through for eight and ten yards at a time.  Goldberg, who was a big, stout fellow, not only was taking care of the Harvard guard, but was going through and making an endeavor to clean up the secondary defense.  High, occasionally, when he had the ball, instead of looking where he was going, would run blindly into Goldberg and the play would stop dead.  Finally, after one of these experiences, Jake cried out: 

[Illustration:  AINSWORTH, YALE’S TERROR IN AN UPHILL GAME]

“Goldberg, if you would only keep out of my way, I would make the All-American.”

In the same game, High, on a line plunge, got through, dodged the secondary defense and was finally brought down by Harvard’s backfield man, O’Flaherty.  Jake always ran with his mouth wide open, and O’Flaherty, who made a high tackle, was unfortunate enough to stick his finger in High’s mouth.  He let out a yell as Jake came down on it: 

“What are you biting my finger for?” High as quickly responded: 

“What are you sticking it in my mouth for?”

Huggins of Brown says:  “The year that we beat Pennsylvania so badly out on Andrews Field, Brown had the ball on Penn’s 2-yard line.  Time was called for some reason, and we noticed that the backfield men were clustered about Crowther, our quarterback.  We afterwards learned that all four of the backfield wanted to carry the ball over.  Crowther reached down and plucked three blades of grass and the halfbacks and the fullback each drew one with the understanding that the one drawing the shortest blade could carry the ball.  Much to their astonishment, they found that all the pieces of grass were of the same length.  Crowther, who made the All-American that year, shouted: 

“You all lose.  I’ll take it myself,” and over the line he went with the ball tucked away under his arm.

“Johnny Poe was behind the door when fear went by,” says Garry Cochran.  “Every one knows of his wonderful courage.  I remember that in the Harvard ’96 game, at Cambridge, near the end of the first half, two of our best men (Ad Kelly and Sport Armstrong) were seriously hurt, which disorganized the team.  The men were desperate and near the breaking point.  Johnny, with his true Princeton spirit, sent this message to each man on the team: 

“‘If you won’t be beat, you can’t be beat.’”

“This message brought about a miracle.  It put iron in each man’s soul, and never from that moment did Harvard gain a yard, and for four succeeding years—­’If you won’t be beat, you can’t be beat,’ was Princeton’s battle-cry.

“The good that Johnny did for Princeton teams was never heralded abroad.  His work was noiseless, but always to the point.