He thinks that the nearer ho gets to the side line the more he will see of the game. The illustration shows one wall of the Harvard Stadium in the course of a Harvard-Maine game. No one but a keen follower of football would go to see one of these early games. Yet the choice seats are empty, save for the wiser few who have stationed themselves in the topmost row. It is safe to say the '"scouts" are there.

This high position in the stand with its consequent almost bird's-eye view of the field is generally sought by the team scouts as well as by certain of the coaches. If a coach could have the opportunity to make his observations from this point instead of from the side line in the course of an important game he would be happy indeed. Happily there is no means of communicating with the field, and the team therefore has to work out its own salvation without the aid of expert advice from the "crow's nest." It is one situation in which the spectator has the advantage of the coach to a large degree. Not alone does the running game stand out in stronger relief, but the course of the kicking is easily followed, and the various formations for the protection of the punter and the back receiving the ball are like an open book.

The single disadvantage of this situation lies in the fact that the openings in the line and the manner in which the runner takes them are not so clearly apparent, and for this reason it would be wise to watch one of the early season games from the end stand, albeit in a lofty position. From such a post the way in which the defensive backs come up to re-inforce the line, the width of the openings, and the judging of kicks can be gauged better than from the side, while in the event of a steady march down the field in the direction of the spectator the latter will experience a deeper thrill - more solid enjoyment than would be the case were he sitting in the side stand.

In the big game, however, the general plan is far more important than the individual work to be observed from one end, and the best place for the spectator is the one first mentioned. Of course, at a big game it is rarely possible to select one's seat, and the suggestions above have been made for the man who picks the wrong post even when he has plenty of room in which to wander.

In recent years there has been a demand that the players be numbered, as is the case in Australia, but failing that it would be well for the spectator to evolve his own system of identification before the men take their places for actual play in the big games. There are many minutes of preliminary practice, and these are too often wasted by the onlooker in general enthusiasm and demonstration thereof when he might well be studying the teams individually and collectively. There is never a team the members of which look exactly alike. Each man has his own needs, likes and dislikes, in the matter of bandages, headgear and other protective armor, while each shows differences in stride and general manner of carrying himself. A little study of this kind would have saved from long-continued error many of those who witnessed the Harvard-Princeton game of 1912. Captain Wendell played less than two minutes in that contest, yet he was constantly cheered long after he left the game. The crowd was too busy to pay much attention to the score board, and since only about 50 per cent. of the undergraduates seemed to know what Wendell looked like, he got the credit for much of the work that was done by other players. Yet Wendell was one of the easiest men on the field to follow because of his short stature, his peculiarly heavy shoulders, his unusual method of running, and the black helmet he wore, which was like no other that had appeared on the field in many a day.