Part 34 (1/2)

[Ill.u.s.tration: CLOSE TO A THRILLER

Erwin of Pennsylvania Scoring Against Cornell.]

In the old days one official used to handle the entire game. A man would even officiate in a game where his own college was a contestant. This was true in the case of Walter Camp, Tracy Harris, and other heroes of the past. Later the number of officials was increased. Such a list records Wyllys Terry, Alex Moffat, Pa Corbin, Ray Tompkins, S. V.

Coffin, Appleton and other men who protected the game in the early stages.

Within my recollection, for many years the two most prominent, as well as most efficient officials, whose names were always coupled, were McClung, Referee, and Das.h.i.+ell, Umpire. No two better officials ever worked together and there is as much necessity for team work in officiating as there is in playing. Both graduated from Lehigh, and the prominent position that they took in football was a source of great satisfaction to their university.

Officials come and go. These men have had their day, but no two ever contributed better work. The game of Football was safe in their hands.

Paul Das.h.i.+ell and Walter Camp are the only two survivors of the original Rules Committee.

Das.h.i.+ell's Reminiscences

”As an official, the first big game I umpired was in 1894 between Yale and Princeton, following this with nine consecutive years of umpiring the match,” writes Das.h.i.+ell. ”After Harvard and Yale resumed relations, I umpired their games for six years running. I officiated in practically all the Harvard-Penn' games and Penn'-Cornell games during those years, as well as many of the minor games, having had practically every Sat.u.r.day taken each fall during those twelve years, so I saw about all the football there was. When I look back on those years and what they taught me I feel that I'd not be without them for the world. They showed so much human nature, so many hundreds of plucky things, mingled with a lot of mean ones; such a show of manhood under pressure. I learned to know so many wonderful chaps and some of my most valued friends.h.i.+ps were formed at those times. I liked the responsibility, too; although I knew that from one game to another I was walking on ice so thin that one bad mistake, however unintended, would break it.

”The rules were so incomplete that common sense was needed and, frequently, interpretation was simply by mutual consent. Bitterness of feeling between the big colleges made my duties all the harder. But it was an untold satisfaction when I could feel that I had done well, and as I said, the responsibility had its fascination and, in the main, was a great satisfaction.

”And then came the inevitable, a foul seen only by me, which called for an immediate penalty. This led to scathing criticism and accusations of unfairness by many that did not understand the incident, altogether leaving a sting that will go down with me to my grave in spite of my happy recollections of the game. I had always taken a great pride in the job, and in what the confidence of the big universities from one year to another meant. I knew a little better than anybody else how conscientiously I had tried to be fair and to use sense and judgment, and the end of it all hurt a lot.

”One friends.h.i.+p was made in these years that has been worth more than words can tell. I refer to that of Matthew McClung. To be known as a co-official with McClung was a privilege that only those who knew him can appreciate. I had known him before at Lehigh in his undergraduate days, and had played on the same teams with him. In after years we were officials together in a great many of the big games where feeling ran high and manliness and fairness, as well as judgment, were often put to a pretty severe test at short notice. Never was there a squarer sportsman, or a fairer, more conscientious and efficient official; nor a truer, more gallant type of real man than he. His early death took out of the game a man of the kind we can ill afford to lose and no tribute that I could pay him would be high enough.

”One night after a Yale-Harvard game at Cambridge, I was boarding the midnight train for New York. The porter had my bag, and as we entered the car, he confided in me, in an almost awestruck tone, that: 'Dad dere gentlemin in de smokin' compartment am John L. Sullivan.'

”I crept into my berth, but next morning, in the washroom, I recognized John L. as the only man left. He emerged from his basin and asked:

”'Were you at that football game yesterday?' and then 'Who won?'

”I told him, and by way of making conversation, asked him if he was interested in all those outdoor games. But his voice dropped to the sepulchral and confidential, as he said:

”'There's murder in that game!'

”I answered: 'Well! How about the fighting game?'

”He came back with: 'Sparring! It doesn't compare in roughness, or danger, with football. In sparring you know what you are doing. You know what your opponent is trying to do, and he's right there in front of you, and, there's only one! But in football! Say, there's twenty-two people trying to do you!'

”There being only twenty-one other than the player concerned, I could not but infer that he meant to indicate the umpire as the twenty-second.”

My Personal Experiences

In my experience as an official I recall the fact that I began officiating as a Referee, and had been engaged and notified in the regular way to referee the Penn'-Harvard game on Franklin Field in 1905.

When I arrived at the field, McClung was the other official. He had never umpired but had always acted as a Referee. In my opinion a man should be either Referee or Umpire. Each position requires a different kind of experience and I do not believe officials can successfully interchange these positions. Those who have officiated can appreciate the predicament I was in, especially just at that time when there was so much talk of football reform, by means of changing the rules, changing the style of the game, stopping ma.s.s plays. However, I consented; for appreciating that McClung was sincere in his statement that he would do nothing but referee, I was forced to accept the Umpire's task.

It was a game full of intense rivalry. The desire to win was carrying the men beyond the bounds of an ordinarily spirited contest, and the Umpire's job proved a most severe task. It was in this game that either four or five men were disqualified.

I continued several years after this in the capacity of Umpire. One unfortunate experience as Umpire came as a result of a penalty inflicted upon Wauseka, an Indian player who had tackled too vigorously a Penn'

player who was out of bounds. Much wrangling ensued and a policeman was called upon the field. It was the quickest way to keep the game from getting out of hand.

Was.h.i.+ngton and Jefferson played the Indians at Pittsburgh some years ago. I acted as Umpire. The game was played in a driving rain storm and a muddier field I never saw. The players, as well as the officials, were covered with mud. In fact my sweater was saturated, the players having used it as a sort of towel to dry their hands. A kicked ball had been fumbled on the goal line and there was a battle royal on the part of the players to get the coveted ball. I dived into the scramble of wriggling, mud-covered players to detect the man who might have the ball. The stockings and jerseys of the players were so covered with mud that you could not tell them apart. As I was forcing my way down into the ma.s.s of players I heard a man shouting for dear life: ”I'm an Indian! I'm an Indian! It's my ball!”