At a meeting of the schools represented in the Senior and Junior football leagues, held in Boston early last May, some good changes were made in the manner of running things, and several excellent rules were adopted. The constitution now governs both leagues, which are united under the single title of "The Interscholastic Football Association"—of New England, I suppose. Henceforth the president of the association will practically be elected by goals and touch-downs, because the office goes to the Captain of the winning eleven of the Senior League. The vice-president is similarly chosen, the office going to the Captain of the champion team of the Junior League. There are to be graduates on the executive committee, which is perfectly proper, but that these should be chosen from one college alone is unwise and unfair. The new scheme is to have the executive committee consist of the Captain of the Harvard football team, three undergraduates of the schools in the league, with the president ex officio, and two graduates of Harvard.
The objection I make to this arrangement is that it is hardly right to look upon the Interscholastic Football Association as a feeder for Harvard alone. It is probably true that Harvard has done more for football in the Boston schools than has any other college, and even more than any other college ever will do; but still men do go from Boston schools to other places than Cambridge, and these men might feel that there is a little too much crimson ink on those regulations. It would be better to have it set down in the constitution that certain members of the committee shall be graduates of the schools that are members of the leagues (college graduates, too, if you like, and even ex-members of 'varsity teams, if practical football knowledge is wanted), but let the eligibility to committee membership depend upon the candidate's school relations rather than upon his college connection. It might happen some year, or for several years in succession, that the football men of the Boston schools would go to Tufts College or to the Massachusetts Institute of Technology. Then both those institutions would feel that their interest in the welfare of the Interscholastic League entitled them to an eye in its supervision. I remember that in 1888, the year the Interscholastic League was formed by Harvard to train players for the Cambridge eleven, several of the best players of one of the strongest teams went to Yale.
The teams in the Senior League are now limited to six, and before the series of games begins in the fall each school must hand in its list of players for the year. It is also required that each player shall have at least twelve hours a week at his school, and be not over twenty-one years of age. The Seniors get considerable advantage over the Juniors in the matter of voting, they being allowed two votes to the latter's single ballot.
It is almost impossible to avoid typographical errors, especially in matter consisting largely of numerals, like the tabulated records so frequently printed in this Department. I remember once of a publisher in London who made up his mind to publish a book that should have no typographical errors whatever. He had his proofs corrected by his own proof-readers, until they all assured him that there were no longer any errors in the text. Then he sent proofs to the universities and to other publishing houses offering a prize of several pounds sterling in cash for every typographical mistake that could be found. Hundreds of proofs were sent out in this way, and many skilled proof-readers examined the pages in the hope of earning a prize. A few errors were discovered. Then all the proof-sheets having been heard from, the publisher felt assured that his book would appear before the public an absolutely perfect piece of composition. He had the plates cast, the edition printed and bound between expensive covers—because as a perfect specimen of the printers' art it was of course unique in literature, and exceedingly valuable to bibliophiles. The edition sold well and was spread all over the country. The publisher was very much pleased with himself for having done something that had hitherto been considered an impossibility. Then his pride had a fall, for six or eight months later he received a letter calling his attention to an error in a certain line on a certain page. Then came another letter announcing the discovery of a second error in this perfect book. I believe before the year was up four or five mistakes were found.
This only goes to show that, even with the greatest care, absolute perfection is impossible. The next best thing, therefore, is to correct unavoidable errors as soon as they are discovered. This Department depends hugely upon its readers to find its occasional slips, and I shall take great pleasure in calling attention to the misprints as soon as I know of them. There are many who preserve the Round Table and depend upon the accuracy of the figures given for reference in the future. They can make their tables absolutely true by noting in ink on the margin of the pages any corrections given here later. The errors I have discovered thus far follow:
Hackett's time in the mile walk, shown in the table on page 538, should be 7 min. 46-2/5 sec., instead of 7 min. 4-2/5 sec. On page 537, Meehan's time at the end of the first lap in the half-mile run should have been given as 61 sec., not as 60. In the table of the Connecticut H.-S.A.A. games printed on page 634, Beck's shot-put is given as 36 ft. 8-1/2 in. His actual performance was 37 ft. 8-1/2 inches. At the dual games between the Hillhouse High-School and the Boardman Manual Training-school of New Haven, Beck made a put of 39 ft. 5 in. This would therefore correct his interscholastic record in the table on page 706, where it shows 39 ft. 3 in. The order of the finish in the bicycle race at the Connecticut H.-S.A.A. games was Baker, Steele, Rutz. This is stated correctly in the table, but not in the text.
A few years ago, long before photography had reached the stage of accuracy which we now enjoy, instantaneous photographs were made of a horse in action, and it was shown that the old conception of a galloping steed with four feet off the ground, the animal posed very much like a Roman arch, was absolutely erroneous. The actual position of a moving horse was shown to be entirely different and somewhat peculiar. Motion is so swift that our eyes cannot keep up with it—cannot even catch one of its elements. Thus we get a very imperfect idea of moving objects that we look at, and not until photographs come to our assistance do we really know just what we have seen.
What the readers of this Department are presumably most interested in just now is sport, and more particularly that sport participated in by their schoolmates, and by young athletes of their own age in other schools. Each individual, no doubt, has his own favorite branch of athletics, and he naturally strives to reach as great a degree of perfection as he is capable of in that special kind of work. It is not always easy to succeed in becoming perfect. Books and descriptive articles are valuable, but they must lack a great deal. The next best thing to actual physical demonstration, therefore, will be a series of instantaneous photographs that show each element of an athletic performance from the beginning of the action until the end. This Department will endeavor from time to time to offer these series of elements to its readers, and will begin next week by showing just how the high jump is performed. The photographs that will accompany the text show how each motion of the jump is made, where the jumper is, and how he looks during the entire transit over the bar.
The Graduate.