Foot-ball

by Montague Shearman; James Edmund Vincent

Enough has now been said to give to the general public an idea of the Winchester game. To a Wykehamist, all that has been written is, as he would say, the vilest “Tugs,” or news twice told; to interest him, it would be necessary to enter into an elaborate discussion of the vexed question contained in the words “Under Ropes Play.” But to the outside world this vast problem will be sufficiently explained by the bare statement that when, towards the end of the allotted time, the heavier side discovers that it is one goal or so ahead, it is a very simple matter to keep the ball under ropes, in the midst of a surging and tumultuous crowd, until the hour ends.

The characteristics of the Winchester game are, that it requires great pace and dash in the players, and teaches men to kick with great accuracy. It is, however, so manly and straightforward a game that it leaves little room for skill or subtlety. Moreover, it is noticeable for this, that while it has been the training-ground of many excellent players, it has also brought into prominence men who never could have excelled under any other conditions. These are the “under-ropes” players, whose system is that of the ox—heavy, obstinate, and slow.

Corresponding in a certain measure to the Winchester game, is the Eton game of football at the Wall. That is to say, its character and rules are the result of the locality in which it is played. This is a sturdy game, and a manly, but singularly inappropriately termed football. The ball indeed and the feet are both present; but the ball is of microscopic size, the number of the players is considerable, and the limits of the ground are exceedingly narrow. Such is the compactness of the mass of players and the hardness of the wall alongside which the game takes place, that the ball is encased in a double covering, lest it should be burst; and the players are enveloped in a kind of armour of proof. If it were not for this precaution, minor excrescences, such as ears and the like, would be rubbed off as completely as jagged knobs are removed from a stick by sandpaper and spoke-shave; skin, too, would, at the end of the game, be conspicuous by its absence from the players nearest the wall.

Into the niceties of this game it is not proposed to enter; for though an excellent pastime, it cannot be described as football, and is simply a question of shoving. There used, however, to exist at Winchester College a practice not dissimilar. On Saturday evenings in the Christmas term, commonly called “short-half,” it was customary for the College boys to assemble in 7th chamber for the purpose of singing; after the singing was over, the prefects assembled, eighteen in number, in the doorway, which was exceeding cramped; opposite them the juniors, fifty-two in number, ranged themselves, and what was called a “down-hot” took place. Juniors tried to force their way out, the prefects tried to keep them in, and there was no mercy for him who fell. With the single exception that in a “down-hot” the formality of “delivering a ball in the midst,” as Strutt has it, was dispensed with, there were many features of similarity between it and the wall game. Lovers of football might well wish that, as in life they were similar, so in death they might not be divided. The “down-hot,” together with the College singing, has long gone the way of all flesh, and has been swept into the dustbin of the past by the broom of the reformer. It were a matter not much to be regretted that the wall game should also perish.

The Eton field game, on the other hand, is a very fine game of football, and has been found to be an excellent training-ground for Association. Both in the forward and backward divisions old Etonians have been prominent; and nothing but the fact that personal references are contrary to our principles prevents an enumeration of well-known names. The same deference to principle has prevented the naming of Wykehamists who have been heroes in international contests, and will prohibit the mention of the names of the great players of Harrow, of Westminster, of Rugby, and of Charterhouse.

The distinguishing points of the field game are pace, and, if the word may be used without offence, honesty. The ball, as in the wall game, is very small, being about the size of a toy football such as one buys for children. It is also exceedingly light, and will travel at a great pace; the result is, that from the moment when they begin to play Eton boys volley without hesitation, and when they reach man’s estate, can volley the Association ball incomparably better than the generality of men trained elsewhere. On the other hand, it is not, in our opinion, a good ball for men to play with. The full strength of a muscular leg, scientifically applied, drives the ball so far that there are periods at which either the game degenerates into an interchange of volleys between the backs (“behinds”), or the ball is occasionally kicked far beyond the reach of any player.

It now becomes necessary to explain the use of the word “honesty” a few lines above. There is no game, except perhaps the Winchester game, in which the rules of “off-side” are so strict; and to “corner” or to “sneak,” that is to say, to play “off-side,” or to hang about with the intention of so doing, are serious offences thoroughly foreign to the principle of the game. Perhaps it is not too much to say, that in proportion to the strictness with which the off-side rule is formulated and observed is the normal pace of any game. Certain it is, that of all games the Winchester, Eton, and Rugby games are the fastest, and that in them the off-side rule is most stringent. The “bully” with which the Eton game begins, is very like a “scrimmage” or a “hot”; but there is this essential difference between the Eton game and the Winchester, that it permits and encourages dribbling; it differs from all games except the Association game in prohibiting the use of the hands; and from the Association game in particular, in the prohibition of forward passing. It should be mentioned that goals are not frequently obtained at this game, for the goal posts are both narrow and low; but there are minor points, called “rouges,” which may be obtained, and which may score the victory.

A rouge is an intricate business; and it must be prefaced that the subjoined account is not written by an Etonian, who alone is familiar with the almost Eleusinian mystery, but is merely the result of something like a dozen experiences of the pleasant Eton game which used to be played in the Merton College cricket ground at Oxford. The proceedings appeared to be these:—One side, which may be called A, having succeeded in driving the ball into the neighbourhood of the line running through B’s goal from side to side of the ground, proceeded slowly to urge the ball along the line in the direction of the goal. In this performance they were carefully watched by their opponents, who did not interfere to prevent them unless one of the side A happened to lose command of the ball for a moment, for, if the ball was driven behind the line after last touching one of the side B, a rouge was scored to the credit of A. A rouge, besides being a point in itself, was capable of being turned into a goal; for when the ball had been driven behind, a peculiar and exceedingly compact scrimmage was formed close to the goal itself; one of the defending party holding the ball between his knees and sitting on the knee of a person behind him, who himself placed his foot upon the ball. These two principal defenders were themselves backed up by subordinates behind; and approach to them was rendered difficult by the arranging of a double line of players. Up the lane thus formed the opposing party, headed by their strongest and heaviest man, charged in column, at a heavy trot, and a tremendous struggle ensued.

The accuracy of this account of a rouge is not vouched for; but it has at least this merit, that it is a faithful representation of the impression produced upon the mind of one not nurtured at Eton, by a few experiences of a most pleasant game.

The Harrow game, though nice enough in the playing, is neither fish, flesh, fowl, nor good red herring. It is played with a peculiarly awkward-looking oval ball, over which Harrow boys attain a complete mastery, but which completely gets the better of other players. Upon à priori grounds one would say that it was the most primitive form of ball, and originally represented nothing but a bladder with the rudest form of covering that could be put together out of three pieces of leather. The features of the game are the punting and the dribbling, and the fact that the goal has no limit in the way of height. A solo usque ad cœlum, in fact, is a maxim more applicable to the Harrow goal than, as may be seen from a recent decision in the matter of overhead wires, to territorial possession. The next most noticeable characteristic will be suggested immediately by the words “three yards.” Any player may catch the ball on the full volley from a kick by one of the other side, or from a kick by one of his own side, if, at the time when the kick is made, he is nearer to his own goal than to that of the adversary. Having caught it he calls out “Three yards,” making his mark in the ground with his heel, and if he does this in time, he is allowed a free kick at the adversaries’ goal, no one being allowed to come within the distance named, for the purpose of interfering with his kick.