"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."