It has been my experience in talking of football stars with some of the old-timers that Frank Hinkey heads the list.  I cannot let Frank Hinkey remain silent this time.  He says: 

“I think it was in the Fall of ’95 that Skim Brown, who played the tackle position, was captain of the scrubs team at New Haven.  Brown was a very energetic scrub captain.  He was continuously urging on his men to better work.  As you recall, the cry, ‘Tackle low and run low,’ was continuously called after the teams in those days.  Brown’s particular pet phrase in urging his men was, ‘Run low.’  So that he, whenever the halfback received the ball, would immediately start to holler, ’Run low,’ and would keep this up until the ball was dead.  He got so in the habit of using this call when on the offense that one day when the quarterback called upon him to run with the ball from the tackle position even before he got the ball he started to cry, ‘Run low,’ while carrying the ball himself, and continued to cry out, ‘Run low,’ even after he had gained ground for about fifteen yards and until the ball was dead.

“It was in the Fall of ’92 when Vance McCormick was captain of the Yale team, and Diney O’Neal was trying for the guard position.  As you know, the linemen are very apt to know only the signals on offense which call for an opening at their particular position.  And even then a great many of them never know the signals.  Now Diney was bright enough, but like most linemen did not know the signals.  It happened one day that McCormick, at the quarterback position, called several plays during the afternoon that required O’Neal to make an opening.  O’Neal invariably failed because he didn’t know the signals.  McCormick, suspecting this, finally gave O’Neal a good calling down.  The calling down fell flat in its effects on O’Neal as his reply to McCormick was, ’To Hell with your mystic signs and symbols—­give me the ball!’”

“The real founder of football at Dartmouth was Bill Odlin,” writes Ed Hall.  “Odlin learned his football at Andover, and came to Dartmouth with the class of ’90 and it was while he was in college that football really started.  He was practically the only coach.  He was a remarkable kicker—­certainly one of the best, if not the best.  In the Fall of ’89 Odlin was captain of the team and playing fullback.  Harvard and Yale played at Springfield and on the morning of the Harvard-Yale game Dartmouth and Williams played on the same field.  It was in this game in the Fall of ’89 that he made his most remarkable kick in which the wind was a very important element.  In the second half Odlin was standing practically on his own ten yard line.  The ball was passed back to him to be kicked and he punted.  The kick itself was a remarkable kick and perfect in every way, but when the wind caught it it became a wonder and it went along like a balloon.  The wind was really blowing a gale and the ball landed away beyond the Williams’ quarterback and the first bounce carried it several yards beyond their goal line.  Of course any such kick as this would have been absolutely impossible except for the extreme velocity and pressure of the wind, but it was easily the longest kick I ever saw.