Rubbing It In

For a heady blend of tradition and emotion, the ancient (since 1875) football series between Harvard and Yale has no peer. Once, in a locker room just before The Game, famed Yale Coach Tad Jones told his awe-struck squad, in all seriousness: "Gentlemen, you are about to meet Harvard in a game of football. Never again in your lives will you do anything as important."

In The Game last week, after Yale had rolled to its sixth touchdown, the exuberant Elis decided that it was time to rub some noses into the mud of Harvard Stadium. Off the Yale bench trotted a diminutive player wearing No. 99, unlisted in the program; he took his place at right end as the teams lined up for the point after touchdown. Instead of the standard place kick, a scoring pass was flipped to No. 99. The hopped-up Yales carried the new hero off the field in triumph, pummeling and pounding him as though he had scored the deciding point. No. 99, it turned out, was no football player. He was Charles Yaeger, the 5-ft.-5-in., 135-lb. student manager of the team. Final score, in Harvard's worst drubbing by Yale since The 48-0 Game of 1884: 41-14.*

* Harvard's most one-sided victory of the series: 41-0 in 1915.

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