BRICKLEY'S KICKS

HARRY E. CROSS1

CAMBRIDGE, MASSACHUSETTS, November 22. He is a short, chunky youngster of twenty-one summers. His black hair is curly, and there is always a smile on his boyish face. He has a nerve of chilled steel, and is so cool that he could face the jaws of destruction without a 5 quiver. This is Charley Brickley, whose name was engraved in football history at Soldiers Field this afternoon as one of the greatest individual gridiron heroes who ever wore the flaming crimson of Harvard. Brickley was the whole Harvard team against Yale this afternoon, and 10 with his talented toe he booted the pigskin over Eli's goal post five times, scoring all the points, which buried the Blue in a 15 to 5 defeat.

The "newsies" here tonight are not screaming about Harvard triumph. They are yelling "Wuxtra! Wuxtra! 15 All about the New Haven Wreck!" The New Haven Wreck is Captain Ketcham's team, exhausted, played out to the last ounce of human strength, and beaten decisively by Percy Haughton's big Crimson team, which showed itself to be one of the best-drilled football machines which 20 ever trod on a gridiron.

"Fair Harvard," all her sons, young and old, are delirious with joy tonight. It is the first time Harvard has ever defeated Yale in the huge Greek stadium, and it is

1 This excellent specimen of newspaper English appeared in the New York Times.

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the first time since away back in the gray past of 1875 that Harvard has ever defeated Yale two years in succession. Arm in arm Harvard parades the streets of Boston town; they crowd the hotels and restaurants; 5 they jam the theaters; and create the greatest turmoil this city has known for years.

Yale, with all its fighting spirit, all its grit, and bulldog tenacity, was no match for Harvard. Guernsey kicked one field goal, and O'Brien of Harvard made a 10 stupid play, which scored a safety against his own

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team.

The field goal of three points and the safety of two points was the total of Yale's effort against this irrepressible eleven. Perhaps never before on a college gridiron has anything ever been seen like Brickley's work this afternoon. Wisely the Crimson team has been constructed around this marvelous drop-kicker. With a snappy aggressiveness which would not be denied, Harvard rushed the ball within striking distance of the Eli 20 goal. Then they called on Brickley. He booted over four goals from the field and kicked one from placement, and one of the marvelous incidents of the day was that Brickley tried another kick from placement. One was on the 45-yard line, and he missed. How he missed it no 25 one knows.

The game was one of the most picturesque football spectacles ever seen in this country. More than fortyfour thousand people jammed the colossal cement amphitheater. A day as warm as an early September afternoon, 30 a gleaming sun, and a cloudless sky made a perfect day for the game. All the girlish beauty of the land mingled with the student thousands who crowded tier upon tier in the great colosseum.

It rang out like a roar of thunder. The strains of the band were lost. The raucous outburst of jubilant students, the tumult, and the shouting of "grads" will never be forgotten in football annals. Again the deep bass song of happy young men rolled and echoed across the stadium: 20 "The sun will set in Crimson,

As the sun has set before,

For this is Harvard's Day."

Best of all, it was a great football game. There was plenty of rushing, plenty of punting, dazzling end-runs, 25 and spectacular drop-kicking. When the first half ended, the score was 6 to 5 in Harvard's favor. Up to that time it was anybody's game.

In the first period Harvard had shown that their team could score at any time they could bring the ball near 30 enough to Yale's goal to give Brickley a chance to kick. In the second period Yale awoke to an outburst of

football that carried Harvard off its feet. The Yale line rose as one man and pushed back the heavy Crimson forwards. The Eli backs hurled themselves into the fray with undeniable intensity.

5 For once Harvard was slipping. Yale, in the heat and fury of the strife, was going ahead with Herculean strength. The pounding and the punching at the Harvard line had the latter groggy when the first half ended.

The ten minutes' intermission was just what Harvard 10 needed. The bruised and battered line had time to collect its wits. And when the third period came Yale found that in that turbulent second period the team had shot its bolt.

No team ever fought more fiercely or more earnestly than Yale did. The Elis knew they had a chance, and 15 they were making the most of it, but they tried so hard in that second period, when their proud march toward triumph was interrupted by intermission, that they were about tired out. With gameness and undying nerve they fought it out to the end. They struggled like madmen to 20 break through and smother Brickley as he made his kicks.

Stubborn to the last degree, the Harvard defense wound itself around the talented Brickley so compactly that no one could get near him. Surrounded by the sturdy wall of Crimson players, Brickley was as safe from interference 25 as if he had been in a safety-deposit vault.

Brickley kicking his field goals was a picture. As cool as an arctic winter he was at all times. He invariably chose a smooth place on the lawnlike gridiron. He held the ball in his hands, and his keen blue eyes measured 30 the distance perfectly. He waited and waited. To the crowd in the Yale stands it seemed like ages. No hurry or flurry, no nervousness, Brickley's mind was on his task. He took his own sweet time and smiled at the Yale

players as they battled to get at him. Not a kick was blocked, as a defense had been built around the Crimson kicker that could not be broken. His unerring toe always caught the ball right and sent it spinning like a top over the crossbar.

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Except for Yale's game rally in the second period the Blue was outplayed by a far superior team. But it was not beaten until the last minute, and Harvard had to watch the Yale players every second. Alexander Wilson was threatening to break loose, and Martin, the center 10 rush, and Avery, the plucky Yale end, were forever smashing to swing through in a way that had Harvard scared.

Ketcham, with fierce aggressiveness, was playing the game of his life; he played so hard that he was inexcus- 15 ably rough, and twice Referee Langford had to warn the Yale captain. Once Ketcham was so bad that Yale was penalized 15 yards, and this penalty put Harvard in position to have Brickley kick his first field goal.

In the third period Yale became wobbling in the face of 20 the Crimson assault. Two more field goals in that period put Harvard on easy street. It was not until then that the hope of the Yale crowd began to fade. The great. horde of Yale men in the east stood up and with bared heads broke into that impressive college chant.

With tremendous volume the song rolled over the field: "For God, for country, and for Yale."

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That was the finish. The fast-tiring players on the field heard it. It rang in their ears; their fatigue was forgotten; once again they braced against the Crimson, 30 and they tried for all they were worth. But it was too late; they couldn't stop the Harvard rushes and hold their own in punting, and they could not get at Brickley.