FROM CHUM TO CHUM.
BY GASTON V. DRAKE.
V.—FROM JACK TO BOB.
Old Man of the Out House.
DEAR BOB,—Your two letters from the steamer got here yesterday. Sandboys says your polite Pirate was stuffing you about that money in Venezuela, and he thinks you'll get your money back when oysters climb trees and not before, and I sort of agree with him. That story about jumping overboard and getting washed back don't seem to me ought to be told to people that love truth. Anyhow Sandboys didn't like it, and he told me to tell you to tell your old Pirate that he can do his own Grand Viziering when he gets to his Island Kingdom and save his ten dollars a week—there's more money in carrying ice-water up and down stairs here, Sandboys says, and he's going to stick to it.
I'm pretty lonesome for you this summer, though there's a half a dozen pretty good fellows here; one of 'em's named Billie Tompkins and he lives out in Chicago. He says there's no place like Chicago in this world for fun. It's situated right out in the prairies and he's got a sand-yacht that he goes sailing about in every spring. I never heard of a sand-yacht before and neither did Sandboys, but Billie Tompkins described it to us and I should think it would be a pretty good thing to have. It has wheels, and is built just like a cat-boat with a mast and a rudder, but no keel. He says that he's sailed over pretty much all of Illinois with it and had lots of adventures with Indians and kiyoots. Of course you know what kiyoots are, they're prairie wolves and they're very dangerous to people that need sleep because they howl all night. He's had lots of trouble with them, but the Indians have bothered him worse than anything, frequently chasing him for miles just to get his scalp. One of 'em caught him once, when he was out sailing one day in March. He had a little seal-skin cap on fortunately, and the Indian ran away with that thinking sure he'd caught his head of hair. Ever since that time he's worn seal-skin caps for sailing. The most exciting time he ever had though was last spring. He'd gone out for an afternoon's cruise and had got about forty miles out on the prairie. He was sailing along beautifully before the wind when he saw a black speck off on the horizon coming towards him like lightning. He didn't know what it was at first but as it alarmed him just a little he took a tack off to the East, and then he knew that the object was bearing down for him for it changed its course just as he had and came on in hot pursuit. In about five minutes he saw that it was an Indian on horseback and he began to get sorry that he'd disobeyed his father and come so far out. You see his father isn't a millionaire and was rather put out about his losing that seal-skin hat, and he'd told him to keep away from where the Indians were. It's pretty tough to be placed where you're bound to get hurt whatever happens, and Billie got pretty anxious contemplating—how's that for a word?—getting scalped or spanked. He steered his yacht right about, so's she'd fly before the wind, which was his only chance, but it was too late. The Indian was close enough to lasso him. Suddenly the pursuer's rope shot out, but by some mistake in the aim didn't catch Billie, but got the mast right in the noose. The horse stopped short, braced himself and the Indian began to grin, expecting to see the boat capsize, but he forgot that the boat had a speed of a hundred miles an hour on and weighed three times as much as the horse in the bargain. He found out in a minute though, for the rope snapped taut, yanked the horse out from under the Indian, threw the Indian over on his own neck and broke it, and went sailing over the prairie with the poor, kicking horse in tow. Billie stopped the yacht as quick as he could for the horse's sake, though it couldn't hurt him much towing him through the soft sand. The horse got on his legs again, as meek as you please. Billie fastened him to the rudder post and went back to where the Indian was and found he was deader than a door-nail, and, strangely enough, hanging from his girdle was the identical seal-skin cap that had been scalped off Billie's head two years before.
He sailed home in triumph, having made a horse and recovered his cap as well, and his father forgave him for not having minded, and when the horse was sold later on for fifty dollars he gave Billie five dollars of it all for himself.
Sandboys says that was a wonderful adventure and I sort of feel that way myself. He says if Billie keeps on having adventures like that there's no reason why he shouldn't grow up to be as successful a man as your Pirate, but he thinks Billie ought to stick by Chicago and not go seeking his fortune anywhere else because there isn't another city in the world where a thing like that could happen, which I guess is true. It certainly couldn't happen anywhere around Boston, because even if they had a prairie and Indians you couldn't steer a yacht through the fearful crowds of bicyclers they have there, without having a collision.
Speaking of bicyclers there's a fellow here that's going to coast down Mt. Washington next week and he's awfully proud of himself, which he needn't be. It would be much harder work to go up Mt. Washington on a bicycle, Sandboys says, and he ought to know, because he's done both, and last year he came down all the way on one roller skate without touching his other foot once. If you see your Pirate ask him what he thinks of that.
Barring Billie and Sandboys everything's pretty slow here. We've only changed the boots in the hall once, and the new head waiter has got eyes like a ferret so's no one can sneak an apple or a banana out of the dining room without its getting in the bill. We boys are going to hold a Mass Meeting this week to see what can be done about this. It isn't any fun eating fruit at the table, and what's the good of nuts and raisins if you can't carry 'em off in your pockets? If you see any live Dukes tell me about 'em.
Always yours,
Jack.
3. The Finish. 2. The Stride. 1. The Start.
From instantaneous Photographs of T. E. Burke, Champion Quarter-miler of the World.
Boardman. Lakin. Crane. Kilpatrick. Hollister. Kingsley.
Start of Half-mile Race at the Inter-collegiate Games, 1895.
RUNNING THE MIDDLE DISTANCES.
The middle distances are the hardest events for an athlete to work at without the assistance of a trainer; but this fact should not discourage the beginner, because there is a vast amount of preliminary work that he can do which will put him into such condition that when he does at last come under the care of a coach he will be able to make rapid progress toward proficiency. The term "middle distances" is usually applied to the quarter and half mile races only, for these have become recognized as the standards by amateur associations and clubs. The quarter-mile is sometimes set down on the card as a 440-yard dash—for it is practically a dash from start to finish, as run nowadays—and the half-mile is frequently called the 880-yard run. It is becoming more usual, however, to look upon these events as fractions of a mile.
The preparatory work for the quarter should begin at the close of winter with walks of from two to three miles across country, ending up with a half-mile jog and a good rub-down. This sort of exercise should be taken every day for three weeks, in order to harden the muscles and get the body into regular habits of physical exercise. Let us presume that at the end of this time the weather has moderated sufficiently to permit of out-door work in light running costume. This should consist of running at an easy gait distances longer and shorter than a quarter-mile on alternate days. For instance, on Monday, run 220 and 300 yards a couple of times, with a rest in between; on Tuesday run 600 yards or half a mile; on Wednesday run the short distances again; and keep on doing this for a month or more. Occasionally—say once a week—try a 100 yards for speed, and about every tenth day take a trial quarter on time.
The most important of all things in running the middle distances is that the athlete should become a judge of pace. He must know just how fast he is going. It takes time, of course, to acquire this knowledge, but the good men in the events know just how rapidly they are travelling around the track, and can tell to a fifth of a second what their gait has been for any fraction of the course. That is why these events are the hardest to run. The best way to acquire this knowledge of gait is to get some one to hold a watch on you every time you run. When you have not a trainer, however, this is not always possible. But there is no reason why you should not hold the watch yourself. And it is well to keep a record of your speed as it increases.
Frequent runs of 150 and 300 yards on time will serve to show how your speed is getting along, and the distances being short, this will enable you to judge of pace so that you can tell very closely how you are travelling over the various portions of your distance. As I have said, the quarter as now run is a sprint from start to finish, and the best thing to do in competition is to jump into the lead at once and head the field all the way if you can. As in the 100 and 220, no heed should be given to the other competitors, and, above all things, never look back.
There is little more to be said in the way of instruction for this event, for it is one that must be worked over according to the powers and capabilities of each individual. The general training after the first four or five months is about the same as for the sprints, which was described in this Department last week. As for the start, it is optional with the individual whether he shall stand or crouch. Burke, the world's champion quarter-miler, who is represented in the series above, uses the standing start, but many others get off from the crouching position. The second picture of the series gives a good idea of the pace and the general position of the body, both of which are identical with sprinting form. The finish is somewhat different. There is always plenty of space ahead after a quarter-mile race (which, of course, has to be run on a curved track) for the runner to keep on going as long as he wishes to, and thus he can pass the tape at top speed and keep on as far as he likes. Many hundred-yard sprinters coming down a short straight track lose a fraction of a second of their speed by slowing up too soon.
The half-mile run requires even a greater judgment of gait than does the quarter, and it is a much harder race to run, having now been developed into such a speedy contest that a man should never attempt to enter any other event in games where he runs a half-mile. Moreover, the athlete who adopts the half-mile as his specialty should give up every other event and train continuously and solely for that distance. He must get himself into such shape that he can tell to a fraction of a second just how fast he is going. This is learned only by having a watch going all the time, and while training there ought to be some one on the track to shout the time every furlong or so.
The preparatory work for this distance is similar to that of the quarter—that is, there should be long and short work, over and under the distance, on alternate days. A half-mile trial on time once in two weeks is sufficient. The start and gait are the same as for the quarter. In the illustration of the start of the half-mile race at the Intercollegiates of 1895 it is plain to see that Kilpatrick is determined to get the pole if he can, while Siebel and Kingsley, who have inside positions, are determined to keep them even if they have to take a sprinting start. Hollister, on the other hand, has apparently made up his mind to let Kilpatrick set the pace, and then try to pass him. This was wise of Hollister, because he knew Kilpatrick's habit is to run a very fast first quarter, and he himself has been trained to sprint hard at the finish. Thus he felt that if he could keep up with Kilpatrick for the first three-eighths he could sprint past him at the finish. Hollister won.
I give this illustration of the tactics of half-mile racing to show how very much strategy has to come in in this event. You must know how your opponents run, and you must distribute your energies over the race so as to counteract as far as possible those of the other competitors. It would have been unwise for Hollister to fight with Kilpatrick for the lead in this case, because the latter could have run him off his feet. That is Kilpatrick's style. But by letting Kilpatrick set the pace, Hollister had an easier time of it in the first quarter, because he did not have to give any thought whatever to his gait. When it came to the stretch, all he had to do was to sprint. Nevertheless, the best general rule for a novice is to jump to the lead and hold it if he can. When he gets to be a first-class man he can devote more thought to the individual work of his opponents. One of the best things for any one working at the half-mile is to attend every meeting he can and watch the work of other half-milers. In fact, it is well for every athlete to follow big games, and study his own event in the work of others. Big championship games should never be missed if it is a possible thing to witness them.
In announcing the date of the New York I.S.A.A. spring games of May 9th, some of the daily papers said that the events would be open to "all preparatory schools of the United States." This was erroneous. The games are open to members of the N.Y.I.S.A.A. only. It is evident that no team could be chosen to represent the New York Association at the National meeting if these games were open to outsiders who could come in, and, by taking a number of firsts, make it necessary for the New-Yorkers to hold another field meeting to find out who their own best men were.
Baseball prospects in the Long Island League are bright. The St. Paul team, which won the championship last year, is almost the same again this spring. Starrs, Goldsborough, Baker, Hall, and Mortimer are back again in school. Adelphi has excellent material in Brooks, Graff, Crampton, Corbett, Forney, Langdon, and Baucher; while almost all of the High-School team of last year are on hand to play again this season. Poly. Prep. has as good a pitcher as any school in the League, and plenty of athletic material to pick from, and the Latin-School players promise to develop a strong nine. Baseball practice in New York has not begun in earnest yet, but it is probable that the average of the teams will be stronger than they were last spring, as there seems to be a renewal of interest in the national game, which has led a pretty precarious existence here for the last two seasons.
The interscholastic contests that are being held from time to time in the gymnasium of the New Manhattan Athletic Club are excellent things, and will serve to develop a good many young athletes who would not otherwise have a chance to show what there is in them. A strong incentive to energetic effort is afforded in the way of a trophy for the school that shall have earned the greatest number of points when the series of games has ended. This prize will be of small intrinsic value, but as a trophy it will be worth the having. These games will also develop a better spirit among the lads who follow athletics, for they are looked after by the N.M.A.C.'s new athletic manager, Mr. Cornish, who is as strict an enforcer of the amateur laws and the amateur spirit as can be found anywhere. Mr. Cornish can have a very strong influence for good over this rising generation of athletes if he cares to. His strongest hold upon the young men's confidence is that he knows his business, and if he now compels them to walk the straightest of straight lines, they will do so all the more cheerfully because they know that he has the right of the question on his side, and intends to stand by his principles.
Readers of this Department will remember that I urged the New York Athletic Club almost a year ago to show some interest in the sports of the rising generation, to cultivate the young men, and to encourage their efforts. I cited the Boston Athletic Association as an example, and spoke of how that organization holds meetings for scholastic contests, and helps the younger men with advice and suggestion. In fact, the meetings of the Boston Inter-scholastic Association's committees are held in the B.A.A. Club-house. The New York A.C., however, did nothing as an organization to advance the interests and promote the welfare of the boy athletes. Some of its members as individuals have done a great deal for the young men, but most of their work has been in the nature of acting as officials at meetings conducted by the schools.
The New Manhattan Athletic Club, however, after having stagnated in a mire of unclean sportsmanship, finally gets an injection of new and healthy blood, and realizes that from the boys of to-day are to be drawn the athletes of to-morrow. The Club thereupon sets out to do all it can to promote and encourage scholastic sports. It offers the services of its gymnasium and of its athletic instructors, it organizes a large in-door meeting and shoulders the entire financial and executive responsibility, and does everything, in fact, that a club can do under the circumstances.
Of course all this is done with the ultimate object of making the N.M.A.C. a successful and prosperous organization. But with all this aim there is a great deal more unselfishness about the movement than selfishness. The Club is not by any means trying to secure control of scholastic sports. I feel confident of this from what I know of the men in control. What the club is trying to do is to help the young men interested in sport by relieving them, as far as possible, from the business part of athletics, and thus to make sport purer; and after this has been successfully accomplished, the N.M.A.C. will be very glad to see all these honest young sportsmen competing as members of its organization—an organization which, I hope, will stand for cleanliness in sport just as prominently as at one time it stood for the very opposite.
The gymnasium work of the Trinity School has developed a new game there. The sport was originated and first played in New Orleans, I believe, and is called "The Newcomb." The boys of Trinity School were perhaps the first to play it in this section of the country, and they have found it to be exceedingly interesting. The game is on the order of basket-ball, which was spoken of in this Department last week. A line is drawn in the centre of the gymnasium; then another line is drawn on either side of this, and about eight feet from it. These are called the "base-lines." The distance may vary, it depending on the size of the room. Two sides are chosen by captains, the number playing depending upon the available space and number of boys present. Twelve or fifteen on a side is a good number. The teams then take their positions between the base-line and wall, so that they face each other, and are separated by the distance between the two base-lines. A basket-ball or football may be used. The referee, standing out of the way, throws the ball to one of the sides. The object of the boy who catches it is to throw it toward his opponent so that it will touch the floor behind the base-line. If he succeeds in doing this it counts as three points for his side.
The player on the side to which the ball is thrown must try to keep it from touching the floor, and if he succeeds in doing so he must immediately throw it back to his opponent's side. This passing to and fro is kept up until a touch-down is made. If the ball is thrown and touches the floor between the base-lines, one point is scored against the side making the throw. The principal rules are that the ball may be thrown with one or both hands, but the person must not throw it while he is down or on his knees. He must not run with the ball, and he must not step over the base-lines. Breaking any of the above rules counts as a foul, and one point is given in each case to the side not at fault. The length of game is decided upon by the captains of the teams and the referee before play is started, and the side having the most points at the end of the allotted time is the winner. Two halves of twenty-five minutes each, with a ten minutes' rest, are usually played.
At the annual in-door games of the Hotchkiss School, at Lakeville, Connecticut, four of the school records were broken—R. B. Hixon established a new school record in the fence vault of 6 ft. 11 in.; C. D. Noyes in the high kick of 9 ft. 1 in.; H. H. Wells in the standing broad jump of 10 ft. 3¾ in., and J. P. Goodwin in the running high jump of 5 ft. 5 in. The first two records are most creditable for scholastic athletes, and are better, unless I am mistaken, than the Yale records for the corresponding events. Hotchkiss School made such a strong showing at the annual games of the Connecticut H.-S.A.A. at Hartford last spring that they must be counted as dangerous opponents at any future meeting. They are unfortunately at too great a distance from New York to send representatives to the N.M.A.C. meet.
The Graduate.