WEEP NO MORE

The following colunui written byards Vidmer for his "Down in Front" ofOctober 16 is abstracted with the kind per.mission of THE NEW YORK HERALDTRIBUSE

A SUDDEN SADNESS seems to have set upon the wearers of the Blue, both young and old, since Yale's shocking defeat by Virginia and its annihilation by Penn, and many seem to see in these two catastrophe the death of Yale football.

But the weeping is premature and wholly unnecessary. The future isn't nearlt as deep an indigo as it appears, and it only necessary to look back into the past to realize that day will follow the nigh, light comes after darkness, and just be. cause a football team isn't the best in the land one year doesn't mean that the tine won't come when it will be.

This may sound very placating, but flip back the pages of the game's history. Look into the history books and records. This isn't the first time that Yale has been at; low ebb, nor has it seen its last great tern Cornell is riding high at the moment, undefeated through last season, undefeated through what there has been of this. Penn looks like a power. But Cornell and Penn have known their dark days too and lived through them and come back to a place in the sun.

And so will the teams which are don today be up tomorrow and those which art up today will fade into the shadows, ft there is no reason to feel forlorn, forsake! and doomed because of a couple of defeats startling and tremendous as they may have been. Just as there is no reason to chortle too loudly over a few triumphs. Other dap will come when those who laugh will M and those who weep will cheer. Lets? back a couple of decades in the mythical Ivy League and trace the trend of triump

Twenty years ago Cornell was awe in spiring. With Pfann, Kaw, Ramsey, C sidy, Sundstrom and a lot of others they went through three successive seasons nflout a defeat. Through the seasons of 1921 '22 and '23 the Big Red team rode umphantly over twenty-four consecuti opponents. Cornell was almighty.

And at the same time Yale was having , its troubles, especially with Princeton and Harvard. Then suddenly the Blue power with such performers as Pond, lory, Stevens, Lovejoy, Richeson, Milstead. Neale, Neidlinger and a host of others could name. At the same time Corne gan to fade from the front ranks.

Also in this period Dartmouth was storming along, led by Oberlander, Sage, Tully, Lane, Dooley and a great wave of Green that was sweeping along at a tidal pace. But meanwhile others who had held the crest had retreated down the slope of mediocrity. Princeton and Columbia were having difficulty winning a major game. Cornell was floundering along. The Navy wasted away.

Dartmouth came riding high again, and Harvard began to bowl over its opponents [or the first time in years. Pennsylvania's famed backfield of Warwick, Kurlish, Elverson and Murray began to function to the discomfort of all opponents.

The cycle was making its rounds. Those who had been on top were back again after knowing the depths of dismal" seasons, those who had been on the bottom were rising to power and a place in the sun.

And it all seemed very important to the young men and old grads at the moment. If Dartmouth was winning, Dartmouth men were singing her praises, shouting hallelujahs and looking through stardimmed eyes into a Utopian future. To them it seemed that Dartmouth had come back to its own and never again would there be dismal days. It was the same when Princeton became a power, or Columbia, or Cornell, or any of the others.

But look at Dartmouth now. The cheers are stilled in the hills of Hanover. There is weeping on the campus of New Haven, where once the Blue banners flew so proudly. And look at Cornell. Drooping shoulders are lifted, heads held high with pride. And at Pennsylvania they are singing in the streets again where at times they have walked with saddened steps.

It is natural to feel depressed when one's alma mater fails to win, and it is natural to feel a certain amount of elation when it does. But defeat one year isn't the end of everything athletically anywhere, and it might be well if some of the young men who wander where the ivy twineth borrowed a slogan from Brooklyn and instead of weeping, bravely challenged: "Wait until next year!"