My opponent on the Yale team was Charlie Chadwick, Yale’s strong man.  Foster Sanford tells elsewhere in this book how he prepared him for the Harvard game the week before and for this game with Princeton.  Our coaches had made, as they thought, a study of Chadwick’s temperament and had instructed me accordingly.  I delivered their message in the form of a straight arm blow.  The compliment was returned immediately by Chadwick, and the scrap was on.  Dashiell, the umpire, was upon us in a moment.  I had visions of being ruled out of the game and disgraced.

“You men are playing like schoolboys and ought to be ruled out of the game,” Dashiell exclaimed, but he decided to give us another chance.

Chadwick played like a demon and I realized before the game had progressed very far that I had been coached wrong, for instead of weakening his courage my attack seemed to nerve him.  He played a very wide, defensive guard and it was almost impossible to gain through him.

The play of the Princeton team at the outset was disappointing.  Jim Rodgers, the Yale captain, was driving his men hard and they responded heartily.  Some of them stood out conspicuously by their playing.  De Saulles’ open field work was remarkable.  I remember well the great run of fifty-five yards which he made.  He was a wonderfully clever dodger and used the stiff arm well.  He evaded the Princeton tacklers successfully, until Billy Bannard made a tackle on Princeton’s 25-yard line.

Garry Cochran was one of the Princeton players who failed in his effort to tackle de Saulles, although it was a remarkable attempt with a low, diving tackle.  De Saulles hurdled over him and Cochran struck the ground, breaking his right shoulder.

That Cochran was so seriously injured did not become known until after de Saulles had finished his long run.  Then it was seen that Cochran was badly hurt.  The trainer ran out and took him to the side lines to fix up his injury.

Time was being taken out and as we waited for Cochran to return to the game we discussed the situation and hoped that his injury would not prove serious.  Every one of us realized the tremendous handicap we would be under without him.

The tension showed in the faces of Alex Moffat and Johnny Poe as they sat there on the side line, trying to reach a solution of the problem that confronted them as coaches.  They realized better than the players that the tide was against them.

To conceal the true location of his injury from the Yale players, Cochran had his left shoulder bandaged and entered the scrimmage again, game though handicapped, remaining on the field until the trainer finally dragged him to the side line.

This was the last football contest in which Garry Cochran took part.  He was game to the end.

At New Haven that fall Frank Butterworth and some of the other coaches had heard a rumor that when Cochran and de Saulles parted at Lawrenceville they had a strange understanding.  Both had agreed, so the rumor went, that should they ever meet in a Yale-Princeton game, one would have to leave the game.