tunity to get back at an official, but
there was no rule to meet the situation. A penalty had been imposed,
because the player had used improper language. A heated argument
followed, and I am afraid the Umpire was guilty of a like offense, when
the player exclaimed:

"Well! Well! Why don't you penalize yourself?"

He surely was right. I should have been penalized.

One sometimes unconsciously fails to deal out a kindness for a courtesy
done. That was my experience in a Harvard-Yale game at Cambridge one
year. On the morning before the game, while I was at the Hotel Touraine,
I was making an earnest effort to get, what seemed almost impossible, a
seat for a friend of mine. I had finally purchased one for ten dollars,
and so made known the fact to two or three of my friends in the
corridor. About this time a tall, athletic, chap, who had heard that I
wanted an extra ticket, volunteered to get me one at the regular price,
which he succeeded in doing. I had no difficulty in returning my
speculator's ticket. I thanked the fellow cordially for getting me the
ticket. I did not see him again until late that afternoon when the game
was nearly over. Some rough work in one of the scrimmages compelled me
to withdraw one of the Harvard players from the game. As I walked with
him to the side lines, I glanced at his face, only to recognize my
friend--the ticket producer. The umpire's task then became harder than
ever, as I gave him a seat on the side line. That player was Vic
Kennard.

Evarts Wrenn, one of our foremost officials a few years ago, has had
some interesting experiences of his own.

"While umpiring a game between Michigan and Ohio State, at Columbus," he
says, "Heston, Michigan's fullback, carrying the ball, broke through the
line, was tackled and thrown; recovered his feet, started again, was
tackled and thrown again, threw off his tacklers only to be thrown
again. Again he broke away. All this time I was backing up in front of
the play. As Heston broke away from the last tacklers, I backed suddenly
into the outstretched arms of the Ohio State fullback, who, it appears,
had been backing up step by step with me. Heston ran thirty yards for a
touchdown. You can imagine how unpopular I was with the home team, and
how ridiculous my plight appeared.

"Another instance occurred in a Chicago-Cornell game at Marshall
Field," Wrenn goes on to say. "You know it always seems good to an
official to get through a game without h