Part 4 (2/2)

Benjamin Brown McBride Cadwalader Corwin Hazen Hall Rodgers Chamberlin Chadwick Dudley De Saulles

JIM RODGERS' TEAM]

Nearly all of the star players of the '96 Princeton champions.h.i.+p team were in the lineup. It was Cochran's last year and my first year on the Varsity. Our team was heralded as a three-to-one winner. We had beaten Dartmouth 30 to 0 and won a great 57 to 0 victory over Lafayette. Yale had a good, strong team that had not yet found itself. But there were several of us Princeton players who knew from old a.s.sociation in prep.

school the calibre of some of the men we were facing.

Cochran and I have often recalled together that silent reunion with our old team-mates of Lawrenceville. There in front of us on the Yale team were Charlie de Saulles, George Cadwalader and Charlie Dudley. We had not seen them since we all left prep. school, they to go to New Haven and we to Princeton.

When the teams lined up for combat there were no greetings of one old schoolmate to another. It was not the time nor place for exchange of amenities. As some one has since remarked, ”The town was full of strangers.”

The fact that Dudley was wearing one Lawrenceville stocking only urged us on to play harder.

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 sc.r.a.p was on. Das.h.i.+ell, 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,” Das.h.i.+ell 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 b.u.t.terworth 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.

b.u.t.terworth told de Saulles what he had heard and cautioned him, reminding him that he wanted him to play a game that would escape criticism. De Saulles put every ounce of himself into his game, Cochran did the same. To this day Frank b.u.t.terworth and the coaches believe that when de Saulles was making his great run up the field he kept his pledge to Cochran.

De Saulles and Cochran laugh at the suggestion that it was other than an accident, but they have never been able to convince their friends. The dramatic element in it was too strong for a mere chance affair.

Princeton's handicap when Cochran had to go out was increased by the withdrawal because of injuries of Johnny Baird, the quarterback, that wonderful drop-kicker of previous games. He was out of condition and had to be carried from the field with a serious injury.

Dudley, the ex-Lawrencevillian, here began to get in his telling work. The Yale stands were wild with enthusiasm as they saw their team about to score against the much-heralded Princeton team. We were a three to one bet. On the next play Dudley went through the Princeton line. At the bottom of the heap, hugging the ball and happy in his success, was Charlie Dudley, Yale hero, Lawrenceville stocking and all.

[Ill.u.s.tration: COCHRAN WAS GAME TO THE END]

After George Cadwalader had kicked the goal, the score stood 6 to 0.

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