There are of course extreme cases of gridiron sluggishness - men who can be aroused only by harsh measures of an extremely personal kind. Such men are apt to be overendowed with good nature, or to be without ambition. It frequently happens that nothing but a form of ostracism will serve to stir them up. In such an extreme case the trainer continues the harsh treatment of the coaches by paying practically no attention to the delinquent for many days at a time, by laughing at him even when he is doing fairly good work, by accusing him of "quitting." Humiliation of that kind has in rare cases made a star out of a man who had always had a lot of football in him, but who would not otherwise have shown it, owing to some queer kink in his disposition.

Not infrequently there comes a time in the course of the team's development when the entire squad is in what is known as a " slump." This is usually at about mid-season, and just after the first really hard game against a high-class opponent. If the team has played poorly in the game the coaches will be hungry to get at the men and anxious to lay out the hardest kind of daily work. It is a natural temptation, for the coaches themselves probably will be under fire by the undergraduate body and the alumni. On the other hand, if the team has acquitted itself well in its first serious test, the coaches are anxious to get the team out and by hard work and much coaching show the players that despite their apparently good work underfire they have still volumes to learn concerning football. When the coaches have been allowed to do this the team has gone from bad to worse.

The "slump" is really apt to be due to the fact that the men are "overfootballed" just as a man may be "over-golfed." It is at this point that the trainer should fight for a complete rest for his men. They should have a chance to forget the game utterly for the moment, so that when they come back for the hard work it will be a thoroughly aroused body of men, eager for work, eager for the coaching that will show them wherein they failed, or wherein they may improve on their already good play.

The daily scrimmage, too, is one of the trainer's troubles, for he must watch carefully for the slightest sign of injury and insist upon the prompt removal of the injured man even though the latter is still anxious to continue. Scrimmages should be short, as a rule, especially where there is much work on rudiments, and the parceling out of the time should be one of the trainer's duties in consultation with the head coach. A man who has been doing a deal of work in the rudiments should not stay as long in the scrimmage as the player who has had no tackling of the bag, catching kicks and signal work to do. It is customary, too, to change the backs more frequently than the forwards, for their work is extremely hard these days, and it must be remembered that scrimmage practice is of value only when it goes at top speed.

As the day of the big game approaches the team will become more and more on edge mentally as well as physically, and the trainer must guard carefully against team as well as individual nervousness. When the last practice is over the trainer must see to it that the coaches do not talk the men to death. There is always a temptation to add something to the coaching. There have been cases, for instance, in which the coaches have kept the quarterback and sometimes other players up too late on the eve of the game, talking over generalship, and aroused them too early on the day of the match for the same purpose. Here the influence of the trainer is again of the greatest importance. The head coach is not infrequently himself a victim of extreme nervousness, and this will communicate itself to the team if he is not kept away. Nothing so quickly unsettles a lot of youngters as the feeling that the man who has taught them the game is worried over its outcome. One of the assistant coaches, the most phlegmatic of the lot, should be the man to stay with the eleven on the eve of the game.

A trainer will also have his hands full watching roommates of the players, who should be told to have nothing to say about football the last week before the big game, and for at least two nights before the battle the team and the substitutes should be kept away from contact with the over-excited undergraduates.

There is great diversity of opinion as to what should be said to the eleven, and by whom, just before it takes the field, and just how much should be attempted between the halves. In this respect the psychology of the eleven itself as an entity must be carefully studied. There are some teams that do not take kindly to a harangue by coach, trainer, or anybody else, while others find it a real stimulant. More speeches were made in the old days, and they were more impassioned than they are now. Personally I can see no reason why the head coach should not talk to the team just as it gathers to go out of the dressing room, but it should be a cool, confident and quiet talk, largely devoid of the old allusions to college loyalty, etc. This leads naturally to a consideration of whether the trainer should say anything at all. He is apt to be extremely popular with the team, and the men usually like to feel that he is "with them" when they are out upon the field. But in the course of dressing for action the good trainer generally finds time for a little "jolly" to each man while bandages, etc., are being arranged. I know that there have been occasions upon which impassioned speeches have been made, and know too, that they have had some effect, but with rare exceptions I believe they are worthless when they are not actually harmful.

Between the halves the situation is not greatly changed, I think. There have been occasions, even in recent years, when the team has been aroused to a fine frenzy in the intermission. Everybody knows, I think, the story of how Mike Murphy appealed to a Pennsylvania eleven between the halves to such purpose that it won the game after having been eleven points behind. That address would have done credit to the greatest ranter who ever stepped upon the stage, and there is no doubt of its effectiveness. There is also the incident of the "old grad" who, with his two little boys on his shoulders, shoved his way into the dressing room between the halves, weeping, and exhorted the team to win for the sake of his two small sons who were to go to that same college and become football players when they grew up. These, however, are extremes, and when there is anything at all to be said between the halves, it is generally concerning the technique of the play, both as a team and as individuals. And I am convinced that there should be very little even of this. The good trainer will have little enough to do between the halves.

It remains for him, in the event of defeat, to sympathize with the team after the game, for most of the coaches will not, and encourage them for another season. In the event of victory there will be plenty of handshakers at the dressing-room door.

To sum up, then, the good trainer, albeit a professional, is far from the sinister person he has been held to be by the outsider. I have known instances in which his influence has been for the greatest good even outside of football. It should be, and generally is, an honorable profession, when the individual in question is not & "fly-by-night" of the type so prevalent many years ago, when the bulk of his work was with prize fighters and other professionals. As long as the universities indulge in a professional trainer, he should have every opportunity to feel that he is a valuable and respected cog in the athletic machinery.