"THE BLOODY ANGLE"

Football in its very nature is a rough game. It calls for the contact of bodies under high momentum and this means strains and bruises! Thanks to the superb physical condition of players, it usually means nothing more serious.

The play, be it ever so hard, is not likely to be dangerous provided it is clean, and the worst indictment that can be framed against a player of to-day, and that by his fellows, is that he is given to dirty tactics. This attitude has now been established by public opinion, and is reflected in turn by the strictness of officials, the sentiment of coaches and football authorities generally. So scientific is the game to-day that only the player who can keep his head, and clear his mind of angry emotions, is really a valuable man in a crisis.

Again, the keynote of success in football to-day is team work, perfect interlocking of all parts. In the old days play was individual, man against man, and this gave rise in many cases to personal animosity which frequently reduced great football contests to little more than pitched battles. Those who to-day are prone to decry football as a rough and brutal sport—which it no longer is—might at least reverse their opinions of the present game, could they have spent a certain lurid afternoon in the fall of '87 at Jarvis Field where the elevens of Harvard and Princeton fought a battle so sanguinary as to come down to us through the years legended as a real crimson affair. One of the saddest accidents that ever occurred on a university football field happened in this contest and suggested the caption of "the Bloody Angle," the historic shambles of the great Gettysburg battle.

Luther Price, who played halfback on the Princeton teams of '86 and '87 and who was acting captain the larger part of the latter season, tells the following story of the game:

"Princeton's contest with Harvard in the autumn of '87 was the bloodiest game that I ever experienced or saw. At that period the football relations between the two colleges were fast approaching a crisis and the long break between the institutions followed a couple of seasons later. It is perhaps true that the '87 game was largely responsible for the rupture because it left secret bitterness.

"In fact, the game was pretty near butchery and the defects of the rules contributed to this end. Both sides realized that the contest was going to be a hummer but neither imagined the extent of the casualties. Had the present rules applied there would have been a long string of substitutes in the game and the caption of 'The Bloody Angle' could not have been applied.

"In those days an injured player was not allowed to leave the field of play without the consent of the opponents' captain. One can easily grasp the fact that your adversaries' captain was not apt to permit a player, battered almost to worthlessness, to go to the bench and to allow you to substitute a strong and fresh player. Therein lies the tale of this game.

"Princeton was confident of winning but not overconfident. We went out to Jarvis field on a tallyho from Boston, and I recall how eagerly we dashed upon the field, anxious for the scrap to begin. It was a clear, cold day with a firm turf—a condition that helped us, as we were lighter than Harvard, especially behind the line. None of our backs weighed more than 155 pounds.

"Holden, the Crimson captain, was probably the most dangerous of our opponents. He was a deceptive running back owing to the difficulty of gauging his pace. He was one of the speediest sprinters in the Eastern colleges and if he managed to circle either end it was almost good-bye to his opponents.

"We were all lying in wait for Holden, not to cripple him or take any unfair advantage, but to see that he did not cross our goal line. It was not long before we had no cause to be concerned on that score. But before Holden was disposed of we suffered a most grievous loss in the disqualification of Hector Cowan, our left guard and our main source of strength. Princeton worked a majority of the tricks through Cowan and when he was gone we lost the larger part of our offensive power.

"Cowan's disqualification was unjustified by his record or by any tendency toward unfair play, though this statement should not be regarded as a reflection on the fairness of Wyllys Terry, the old Yale player, who was the umpire. Walter Camp, by the way, was the referee.

"There never was a fairer player than Cowan, and such a misfortune as losing him by disqualification for any act on the field was never dreamt of by the Princeton men. The trouble was that Terry mistook an accident for a deliberate act. Holden was skirting Princeton's left end when Cowan made a lunge to reach him. Holden's deceptive pace was nearly too much for even such a star as Cowan, whose hands slipped from the Harvard captain's waist down to below his knees until the ankles were touched. Cowan could have kept his hands on Holden's ankles, but as tackling below the knees was foul, he quickly let go. But Holden tumbled and several Princeton men were on him in a jiffy.

"Harvard immediately claimed that it was a foul tackle. It was a desperate claim but it proved successful. To our astonishment and chagrin, Terry ruled Cowan off the field. Cowan was thunderstruck at the decision and protested that he never meant to tackle unfairly. We argued with Terry but he was unrelenting. To him it seemed that Cowan meant to make a foul tackle. The situation was disheartening but we still felt that we had a good chance of pulling through even without Cowan.

"What was particularly galling to us was that we had allowed two touchdowns to slip from our grasp. Twice we had carried the ball to within a few yards of the Harvard line and had dropped the ball when about to cross it. Both errors were hardly excusable and were traceable to over-anxiety to score. With Cowan on the field we had found that he could open up the Harvard line for the backs to make long runs but now that he was gone we could be sure of nothing except grilling work.

"Soon after occurred the most dramatic and lamentable incident which put Holden out of the game. We had been warned long before the contest that Holden was a fierce tackler and that if we, who were back of the Princeton line, wished to stay in the game it would be necessary to watch out for his catapultic lunges.

"Holden made his tackles low, a kind of a running dive with his head thrust into his quarry's stomach. The best policy seemed, in case Holden had you cornered, to go at him with a stiff arm and a suddenly raised knee to check his onslaught and, if possible, shake him off in the shuffle, but that was a mighty difficult matter for light backs to do.

"First the line was opened up so that I went through. Harding, the Harvard quarter, who was running up and down the Crimson line like a panther, didn't get me. My hand went against his face and somehow I got rid of him. Finally I reached Holden, who played the fullback position while on the defensive, and had him to pass in order to get a touchdown. There was a savage onslaught and Holden had me on the ground.

"A few moments later Ames, who played back with Channing and me, went through the Harvard line and again Holden was the only obstacle to a touchdown for Princeton. There was another savage impact and both players rolled upon the ground, but this time Holden did not get up. He got his man but he was unconscious or at least seemingly so. His chest bone had been broken. It was a tense moment. We all felt a pang of sympathy, for Holden was a square, if rough, player. Harvard's cheers subsided into murmurs of sorrow and Holden was carried tenderly off the field.

"The accident made Harvard desperate, and as we were without Cowan we were in the same mental condition. It was hammer and tongs from that time on. I don't know that there was any intention to put players out of business, but there was not much mercy shown.

"It appeared to me that some doubt existed on the Harvard side as to who caused Holden's chest bone to be broken, but that the suspicion was mainly directed at me. Several years later an article written at Harvard and published in the Public Ledger in Philadelphia gave a long account of how I broke Holden's chest bone. This seemed to confirm my notion that there was a mixup of identity. However that may be, it soon became evident in the game that I was marked for slaughter.

"Vic Harding made a profound and lasting impression on me both with his hands and feet. In fact, Harding played in few games of importance in which he was not disqualified. He was not a bad fellow at all in social relations, but on a football field he was the limit of 'frightfulness.' I don't know of any player that I took so much pleasure in punching as Harding. Ames and Harding also took delight in trying to make each other's faces change radically in appearance.

"I think that Harding began to paint my face from the start of the game and that as it proceeded he warmed up to the task, seeing that he was making a pretty good job of it. He had several mighty able assistants. The work was done with several hundred Wellesley College girls, who were seated on benches close to the sideline, looking on with the deepest interest and, as it soon appeared, with much sympathy. I will not forget how concerned they looked.

"By the middle of the second half I guess they did see a spectacle in me for they began to call to me and hold out handkerchiefs. At first I didn't realize what they meant for I was so much engaged with the duties that lay in front of me that it was difficult to notice them, but their entreaties soon enlightened me. They were asking me as a special favor to clean my face with their handkerchiefs, but I replied—perhaps rather abruptly—that I really didn't have time to attend to my facial toilet.

"My nose had been broken, both eyes well closed and my canvas jacket and doeskin knickerbockers were scarlet or crimson—whichever you prefer—in hue. Strength was quickly leaving me and the field swam. I finally propped myself up against a goal post. The next thing I knew was that I was being helped off the field. My brother, Billy, who was highly indignant over the developments, took my place. This was about ten or fifteen minutes before the end of the game, which then consisted of two 45 minute periods.

"Ames emerged from the game with nothing more than the usual number of cuts and bruises. At that time we did not have any nose-guards, head-guards and other paraphernalia such as are used nowadays, except that we could get ankle braces, and Ames wore one. That ankle stood the test during the fight.

"A majority of the other players were pretty well cut up. After Cowan was disqualified Bob (J. Robb) Church, subsequently Major in the United States Army Medical Corps and formerly the surgeon of Roosevelt's Rough Riders in the Spanish War, was shifted from tackle to Cowan's position at guard. Chapin, a brilliant student, who had changed from Amherst to Princeton, went in at tackle. He was a rather erratic player, and Harvard kept pounding in his direction with the result that Bob Church had a sea of trouble and I was forced to move up close to the line for defensive work. It was this that really put me out of business. My left shoulder had been hurt early in the season and it was bound in rubber, but fortunately it was not much worse off than at the beginning of the game.

"Bob Church risked his life more than once in the Spanish War and for his valor he received a Medal of Honor from Congress, but it is safe to say that he never got such a gruelling as in this Harvard game. He was battered to the extent of finding it difficult to rise after tackling and finally he was lining up on his knees. It was a magnificent exhibition of pluck. As I recall, Bob lasted to the end of the game.

"It was not until near the close that any scoring took place and then Harvard made two touchdowns in quick succession. We lacked substitutes to put in and, even if we had had them, it is doubtful whether we could have got them in as long as a player was able to stand up. The only satisfaction we had was that we had done the best we could to win and our confidence that with Cowan we could have won even if Holden had not been hurt. We had beaten Harvard the year before with essentially the same team that we played in this game."