Flushed With Victory

Two powerful elevens will take the field in Princeton's Palmer Stadium this afternoon. In a few moments they will be joined by Harvard's football players. Shortly thereafter, the forty-third Harvard-Princeton game will commence. The ensuing earth tremors promise to nudge seismographs miles away, for Princeton's single-wing attack has proven itself as violent as Krakatao. On a two-bit bet, a Harvard victory promises more profits than a winning sweepstakes ticket.

If there is such a thing as cause and effect, there must be a reason for Princeton's overwhelming superiority. Ideally, and probably, one single factor exists at Princeton which accounts for the Tigers' consistent success. Is it really true that Branch Rickey owns half interest in the squad? Is it the Mahatma's game that secretly guides coach Caldwell? Or is it more basic, something in the Howard Johnson food that all freshmen must absorb for a year? Is it to be found in the eating of food from plates, a thing which goes on daily at the eating clubs?

We think it is none of these. Obviously Mr. Rickey is little concerned with Princeton, having just accepted a job in Pittsburgh, some 200 miles further from Princeton than Brooklyn. Howard Johnson ice-cream is allegedly full of gelatin, a commodity detrimental in large quantities to growing boys. As for the benefit of eating from plates--obviously trays are just as healthy and pleasant or the Army wouldn't have used them.

There is still one possibility. A powerful and different camaraderie exists at Princeton. It is a brotherhood born not from fraternal associations or cooperation on extra-curricular organizations. There is something still more intimate about the relationship between students in Nassau's halls, a relationship which derives its strength from community bathrooms--one in each entry.

Let's give it a try!