This anecdote will be a good one for Parke Davis’ friends to read, for how he ever stayed out of that talk-fest is a mystery—­maybe he did.

Now that Yost and Sanford have retired we will let Parke continue.

“A few years ago everybody except Dartmouth men laughed at the football which, bounding along the ground at Princeton suddenly jumped over the cross bar and gave to Princeton a goal from the field which carried with it the victory.  But did you ever hear that in the preceding season, in a game between two Southern Pennsylvania colleges, a ball went awry from a drop kick, striking in the chest a policeman who had strayed upon the field?  The ball rebounded and cleanly caromed between the goal post for a goal from the field.  Years ago Lafayette and Pennsylvania State College were waging a close game at Easton.  Suddenly, and without being noticed, Morton F. Jones, Lafayette’s famous center-rush in those days, left the field of play to change his head gear.  The ball was snapped in play and a fleet Penn State halfback broke through Lafayette’s line, and, armed with the ball, dodged the second barriers and threatened by a dashing sprint to score in the extreme corner of the field.  As he reached the 10-yard line, to the amazement of all, Jones dashed out of the side line crowd upon the field between the 10-yard line and his goal, thereby intercepting the State halfback, tackling him so sharply that the latter dropped the ball.  Jones picked it up and ran it back 40 yards.  There was no rule at that time which prevented the play, and so Penn-State ultimately was defeated.  Jones not only was a hero, but his exploit long remained a mystery to many who endeavored to figure out how he could have been 25 yards ahead of the ball and between the runner and his own goal line.”

A story is told of the wonderful dodging ability of Phil King, Princeton ’93.  He was known throughout the football world as one of the shiftiest runners of his day.  Through his efficient work, King had fairly won the game against Yale in ’93.  The next year the Yale men made up their minds that the only way to defeat Princeton was to take care of King, and they were ever on the alert to watch him whenever he got the ball.  The whole Yale team was looking for King throughout this game.

On the kick-off Phil got the ball, and all the Yale forwards began to shout, “Here he comes, here he comes,” and then as he was cleverly dodging and evading the Yale players, one of the backs, who was waiting to tackle him low, was heard to say, “There he goes.”

Those of the old-timers who study the picture of the flying wedge on the opposite page will get a glimpse of Phil King about to set in motion one of the most devilishly ingenious maneuvers in the history of the game.  With all the formidable power behind him, the old reliables of what the modern analytical coaches are pleased to term the farce plays.  Balliet, Beef Wheeler, Biffy Lea, Gus Holly, Frank Morse, Doggy