Alex Moffat and his team]

The Varsity team of Princeton in the fall of ’79 was captained by Bland Ballard of the class of ’80.  He had a bunch of giants back of him.  There were fifteen on the team in those days, and among them were such men as Devereaux, Brotherlin, Bryan, Irv.  Withington, and the mighty McNair.  The scrub team player at that time was pretty nearly any chap that was willing to take his life in his hands by going down to the field and letting those ruthless giants step on his face and generally muss up his physical architecture.

When Alex announced one day that he was going to take a chance on the scrub team, his friends were inclined to say tenderly and regretfully, “Good night, sweet prince.”  But Alex knew he was there with the kick, whether it came on the left or right, and he made up his mind to have a go with the canvas-backed Titans of the Varsity team.  One fond friend watching Alex go out on the field drew a sort of consolation from the observation that “perhaps Alex was so small the Varsity men wouldn’t notice him.”  But Alex soon showed them that he was there.  He got in a punt that made Bland Ballard gasp.  The big captain looked first at the ball, way up in the air, then looked at Alex and he seemed to say as the Scotsman said when he compared the small hen and the huge egg, “I hae me doots.  It canna be.”

After that the Varsity men took notice of Alex.  When the ball was passed back to him next the regulars got through the scrub line so fast that Alex had to try for a run.  Bland Ballard caught him up in his arms, and finding him so light and small, spared himself the trouble of throwing him down.  Ballard simply sank down on the ground with Alex in his arms and began rolling over and over with him towards the scrub goal.  Alex cried “Down!  Down!” in a shrill, treble voice that brought an exclamation from the side line.  “It’s a shame to do it.  Bland Ballard is robbing the cradle.”

Such was Alex Moffat in the fall of ’79, still something of the “Teeny-bits” that he was in early boyhood.  In two years Alex’s name was on the lips of every gridiron man in the country, and in his senior year, as captain, he performed an exploit in goal kicking that has never been equalled.

In the game with Harvard in the fall of ’83, he kicked five goals, four being drop kicks and one from a touchdown.  His drop kicks were all of them long and two of them were made with the left foot.  Alex grew in stature and in stamina and when he was captain he was regarded as one of the most brilliant fullbacks that the game had ever known.  He never was a heavy man, but he was swift and slippery in running, a deadly tackler, and a kicker that had not his equal in his time.

Alex remained prominent in football activity until his death in 1914.  He served in many capacities, as member of committees, as coach, as referee and as umpire.  He was a man of happy and sunny nature who made many friends.  He loved life and made life joyous for those who were with him.  He was idolized at Princeton and his memory is treasured there now.