Foot-ball

IT is vastly to the credit of cricket and of football that they should have survived the Puritan deluge and the decay of the athletic spirit at the end of the last century, and not have been laid in limbo together with stoolball, cambuc, and other games wherein the hearts of our forefathers rejoiced. The survival indicates an exceeding fitness. Still the storm of Puritanical hatred had been enough to kill even hardier plants than these, unless there had been some quiet haunts in which they existed unnoticed and unmolested. As to the pastimes of the ’prentice boys they perished; but in the quiet privacy of the country and in the almost monastic seclusion of some of our ancient public schools they continued to exist.

For some reason or other, the foundation of Laurence Sheriff, at Rugby, was the locality in which, what we now call the Rugby game, but which, for reasons above mentioned, appears in reality to have been the pristine form of the game, was preserved. Now, since of every effect there is a cause, and since of this particular effect history supplies no cause that we are aware of, it becomes necessary to have recourse to conjecture; and since conjecture, to be probable, must proceed upon some sound basis, it seems to follow, that in order to discover why the game, distinguished by an absence of rules, survived in Rugby School, an inquiry should be made whether the conditions of football at Rugby were not different from what they were elsewhere. The answer to this question, once formulated, is manifest. The conditions of football were different at Rugby from those which prevailed at other schools; or rather, to put the matter in language paradoxical in appearance but literally correct, the conditions of the game were normal at Rugby and abnormal everywhere else. In fact, the original form of football,—for it is the simplest,—is of such a nature that it can hardly be played except in a wide open space. Such a space existed at Rugby from the beginning, but not at the other great public schools. The Eton boys had originally no other place to disport themselves in than the comparatively small inner field nearest the College buildings. The ancient Meads of the Winchester College are small in dimensions. At the Charterhouse they had originally no other playground than the cloisters; and though at Westminster the scholars were better provided for, yet they were confined to “Green.” Now, in small spaces of this kind it is obvious that the continual playing of football throughout the winter months must, almost of necessity, have resulted in the ruin of the playground for other purposes. For football is essentially a game for the many, and not for the few, and by its very nature involves the tearing up of turf and the ruin of greenswards. Therefore it was natural that in each particular school the rules of the game should be settled by the capacities of the playground; and, as these were infinitely various in character, so were the games various.

It is proposed to examine the games of the various schools in somewhat close detail, on the ground, in the first place, that they are interesting in themselves, and, in the second, that in some of them at least are to be traced, more or less distinctly, the germs of the Association game.

The most peculiar of all games of football is that which is practised at Winchester, and which, in defiance of latter-day opinions, still continues to flourish in almost its pristine form. Of the peculiar rules in vogue at Winchester College, it cannot be written that they are in any way concerned with the principles of the Association game. On the contrary, they differ altogether from those of any other game. But the Winchester rules have the literary merit of peculiarity, and this practical virtue, that they have produced many of the first Association players of the present and past days. Therefore, although no one is recommended to submit himself to them if he can avoid it, which he will not be able to do if he goes to the ancient school as a pupil, they are rules worthy of some notice. The ground upon which the Winchester boys play, is about 80 yards long and about 25 yards wide. Thus, in the College Meads, which are more or less square, with an irregular excrescence upon the side nearest the College, it was possible for four games to be played simultaneously, while the central portion was reserved for the more sacred and elaborate game of cricket. Inasmuch, however, as there was some natural difficulty in keeping the ball within the prescribed limits for even a reasonable time, the ancient custom was first to mark out the ground with stakes and ropes, and then, outside the ropes, to place a line of shivering fags. In time humanity and genius combined discovered that hurdles served the purpose quite as well as small boys, and did not take cold; and in later days the hurdles themselves have given place to tarred nets, spread out upon an iron framework some ten feet in height. The ropes still remain and are placed about a yard from the netting; and further, seeing that the ball, while it is “under ropes,” is in a certain spurious kind of way in play, these same ropes exert a serious influence upon the game. This commences with a “hot,” which is formed in the following fashion: In “sixes,” that is to say matches with six players on each side, there are two backs on each side, who are called “behinds,” and four forwards, who go by the name of “ups.” Of the forwards one is “over the ball” and takes the centre place, and two back him up with their knees behind his and their arms interlaced round his body. All three keep their heads down, and the fourth, with his back and shoulders, propels the centre man. In a six game, notwithstanding the closeness of the phalanx thus formed, the duration of a “hot” is not usually long; but in fifteens, where the mass of players is far greater and the same principle is observed in the formation of the “hot,” ten minutes or more may be occupied in this performance. When it is added that the performance is deliberately repeated every time the ball is kicked over the netting, and that there is no other penalty than a “hot” for any infringement of the rules, it may be imagined that “hots” occupy the greater part of the hour which is devoted to a match. The ball, however, is not kicked out as often as might be supposed probable, for one of the most stringent rules of the game is, that it may not be kicked higher than five feet, which is supposed to be the average height of a man’s shoulder, unless, at the time when it is kicked, it is either bounding or rolling at a distinctly fast pace; nor may it be kicked up unless the last person to touch it was an opponent, for, in the contrary case, it is a “made flier,” which is dreadful. This is a rule which causes almost as many hots by being infringed as it saves by preventing the behinds, who alone do much in the way of kicking, from driving the ball over the netting. Still it is a necessary rule, for the goal consists of the whole twenty-five yards or thereabouts, that is to say, of the whole width of the arena, and but for the rule concerning “kicking up,” there would be no end to the number of goals obtained. It should be mentioned, however, that if a ball, before passing over the goal line, or, as it is called, “Worms,” is touched ever so slightly by any member of what Strutt would call the defending party, no goal is scored. The distinguishing features of the game, apart from those already mentioned, are, in the first place, that no dribbling is permitted under any circumstances; and in the second place, that the “off-side” rule is stricter than in any other game. It is not legitimate for two players on the same side to touch the ball in succession, unless it rolls behind the first kicker; nor may one player “back up his partner’s kick” by charging the adversary, unless, at the time when his partner kicked, he was behind the ball, or, since that time, has returned to the place from which the ball was kicked. It should be added, that the ball, which is several ounces heavier than an Association ball, is round. When caught upon a full volley kicked by one of the opposite side, it is “punted” and not “dropped;” but if the person catching it is charged, then he who charges is said to be “running him” and may “collar” him as at the Rugby game, and the holder of the ball may run until his adversaries cease to “run him,” but then he must halt and take his punt.

Enough has now been said to give to the general public an idea of the Winchester game. To a Wykehamist, all that has been written is, as he would say, the vilest “Tugs,” or news twice told; to interest him, it would be necessary to enter into an elaborate discussion of the vexed question contained in the words “Under Ropes Play.” But to the outside world this vast problem will be sufficiently explained by the bare statement that when, towards the end of the allotted time, the heavier side discovers that it is one goal or so ahead, it is a very simple matter to keep the ball under ropes, in the midst of a surging and tumultuous crowd, until the hour ends.

The characteristics of the Winchester game are, that it requires great pace and dash in the players, and teaches men to kick with great accuracy. It is, however, so manly and straightforward a game that it leaves little room for skill or subtlety. Moreover, it is noticeable for this, that while it has been the training-ground of many excellent players, it has also brought into prominence men who never could have excelled under any other conditions. These are the “under-ropes” players, whose system is that of the ox—heavy, obstinate, and slow.

Corresponding in a certain measure to the Winchester game, is the Eton game of football at the Wall. That is to say, its character and rules are the result of the locality in which it is played. This is a sturdy game, and a manly, but singularly inappropriately termed football. The ball indeed and the feet are both present; but the ball is of microscopic size, the number of the players is considerable, and the limits of the ground are exceedingly narrow. Such is the compactness of the mass of players and the hardness of the wall alongside which the game takes place, that the ball is encased in a double covering, lest it should be burst; and the players are enveloped in a kind of armour of proof. If it were not for this precaution, minor excrescences, such as ears and the like, would be rubbed off as completely as jagged knobs are removed from a stick by sandpaper and spoke-shave; skin, too, would, at the end of the game, be conspicuous by its absence from the players nearest the wall.

Into the niceties of this game it is not proposed to enter; for though an excellent pastime, it cannot be described as football, and is simply a question of shoving. There used, however, to exist at Winchester College a practice not dissimilar. On Saturday evenings in the Christmas term, commonly called “short-half,” it was customary for the College boys to assemble in 7th chamber for the purpose of singing; after the singing was over, the prefects assembled, eighteen in number, in the doorway, which was exceeding cramped; opposite them the juniors, fifty-two in number, ranged themselves, and what was called a “down-hot” took place. Juniors tried to force their way out, the prefects tried to keep them in, and there was no mercy for him who fell. With the single exception that in a “down-hot” the formality of “delivering a ball in the midst,” as Strutt has it, was dispensed with, there were many features of similarity between it and the wall game. Lovers of football might well wish that, as in life they were similar, so in death they might not be divided. The “down-hot,” together with the College singing, has long gone the way of all flesh, and has been swept into the dustbin of the past by the broom of the reformer. It were a matter not much to be regretted that the wall game should also perish.

The Eton field game, on the other hand, is a very fine game of football, and has been found to be an excellent training-ground for Association. Both in the forward and backward divisions old Etonians have been prominent; and nothing but the fact that personal references are contrary to our principles prevents an enumeration of well-known names. The same deference to principle has prevented the naming of Wykehamists who have been heroes in international contests, and will prohibit the mention of the names of the great players of Harrow, of Westminster, of Rugby, and of Charterhouse.

The distinguishing points of the field game are pace, and, if the word may be used without offence, honesty. The ball, as in the wall game, is very small, being about the size of a toy football such as one buys for children. It is also exceedingly light, and will travel at a great pace; the result is, that from the moment when they begin to play Eton boys volley without hesitation, and when they reach man’s estate, can volley the Association ball incomparably better than the generality of men trained elsewhere. On the other hand, it is not, in our opinion, a good ball for men to play with. The full strength of a muscular leg, scientifically applied, drives the ball so far that there are periods at which either the game degenerates into an interchange of volleys between the backs (“behinds”), or the ball is occasionally kicked far beyond the reach of any player.

It now becomes necessary to explain the use of the word “honesty” a few lines above. There is no game, except perhaps the Winchester game, in which the rules of “off-side” are so strict; and to “corner” or to “sneak,” that is to say, to play “off-side,” or to hang about with the intention of so doing, are serious offences thoroughly foreign to the principle of the game. Perhaps it is not too much to say, that in proportion to the strictness with which the off-side rule is formulated and observed is the normal pace of any game. Certain it is, that of all games the Winchester, Eton, and Rugby games are the fastest, and that in them the off-side rule is most stringent. The “bully” with which the Eton game begins, is very like a “scrimmage” or a “hot”; but there is this essential difference between the Eton game and the Winchester, that it permits and encourages dribbling; it differs from all games except the Association game in prohibiting the use of the hands; and from the Association game in particular, in the prohibition of forward passing. It should be mentioned that goals are not frequently obtained at this game, for the goal posts are both narrow and low; but there are minor points, called “rouges,” which may be obtained, and which may score the victory.

A rouge is an intricate business; and it must be prefaced that the subjoined account is not written by an Etonian, who alone is familiar with the almost Eleusinian mystery, but is merely the result of something like a dozen experiences of the pleasant Eton game which used to be played in the Merton College cricket ground at Oxford. The proceedings appeared to be these:—One side, which may be called A, having succeeded in driving the ball into the neighbourhood of the line running through B’s goal from side to side of the ground, proceeded slowly to urge the ball along the line in the direction of the goal. In this performance they were carefully watched by their opponents, who did not interfere to prevent them unless one of the side A happened to lose command of the ball for a moment, for, if the ball was driven behind the line after last touching one of the side B, a rouge was scored to the credit of A. A rouge, besides being a point in itself, was capable of being turned into a goal; for when the ball had been driven behind, a peculiar and exceedingly compact scrimmage was formed close to the goal itself; one of the defending party holding the ball between his knees and sitting on the knee of a person behind him, who himself placed his foot upon the ball. These two principal defenders were themselves backed up by subordinates behind; and approach to them was rendered difficult by the arranging of a double line of players. Up the lane thus formed the opposing party, headed by their strongest and heaviest man, charged in column, at a heavy trot, and a tremendous struggle ensued.

The accuracy of this account of a rouge is not vouched for; but it has at least this merit, that it is a faithful representation of the impression produced upon the mind of one not nurtured at Eton, by a few experiences of a most pleasant game.

The Harrow game, though nice enough in the playing, is neither fish, flesh, fowl, nor good red herring. It is played with a peculiarly awkward-looking oval ball, over which Harrow boys attain a complete mastery, but which completely gets the better of other players. Upon à priori grounds one would say that it was the most primitive form of ball, and originally represented nothing but a bladder with the rudest form of covering that could be put together out of three pieces of leather. The features of the game are the punting and the dribbling, and the fact that the goal has no limit in the way of height. A solo usque ad cœlum, in fact, is a maxim more applicable to the Harrow goal than, as may be seen from a recent decision in the matter of overhead wires, to territorial possession. The next most noticeable characteristic will be suggested immediately by the words “three yards.” Any player may catch the ball on the full volley from a kick by one of the other side, or from a kick by one of his own side, if, at the time when the kick is made, he is nearer to his own goal than to that of the adversary. Having caught it he calls out “Three yards,” making his mark in the ground with his heel, and if he does this in time, he is allowed a free kick at the adversaries’ goal, no one being allowed to come within the distance named, for the purpose of interfering with his kick.

There are other games of football practised at various schools, which, in a work of more pretentious size, would deserve detailed description, besides those of Westminster and Charterhouse. There is, for instance, the Shrewsbury game, noted for its name of “dowling,” supposed to be connected with δοῦλος, “a slave,” which carries in itself the notion of compulsory football. But space does not permit us to enter into the merits of this game; and the omission may be justified partly on the ground that it was a game of a mixed kind, and partly on the ground that it has now fallen into disuse, and has given place to the Association game.

Between the game as played in the cloisters at the Charterhouse, and that played on “Green” at Westminster School there would not appear to be any essential similarity. The rules of both games were absolutely determined by their environment and the circumstances under which they were played. In a certain sense, both were similar. Both were played in a confined space, though, of course, the space in “Green” was less confined than that of the cloisters; and from this cause it follows that both Westminster and Charterhouse boys developed an astounding capacity for dribbling through dense masses of boys. Both games again were played at odd times and in ordinary clothes; and though both were rough and boisterous enough in all conscience, they clearly were not so injurious to clothes as the Rugby game, in which it was allowed to seize and hurl an opponent. The worst that can follow from a charge in which the hands are not employed, is downfall into mud which a clothes-brush will remove more or less completely from the injured garment; but from being collared, there may ensue results in the shape of torn clothes. Hence it came that the boys educated at these schools, in the first place, prohibited “collaring” and all use of the hands and arms, and, in the second place, became extremely clever at dribbling and at charging with the shoulders. While this subject is uppermost, it may not be amiss to enter very slightly into the question of roughness. The Rugby game unquestionably appears far rougher to the spectator than the Association. But, in fact, it is a very doubtful matter which is the more dangerous. It must be remembered that it is not the fall to the ground which is most perilous to life and limb. Seldom, indeed, is it that anything more serious than a collar-bone is broken by a fall to the ground. From the concussion of two bodies, on the contrary, ribs and arms are apt to suffer, and in proportion to the preponderance of kicking is the danger of broken legs. These are of comparatively rare occurrence, except as the results of crossed shins; and the more rational conclusion is, that the rules from which the Association game took its origin were originally formulated, or rather grew naturally, from a regard for clothes rather than limbs.

In another chapter the formulation of the Association Rules will be discussed; for the present, it will be enough to say that they owe their origin mostly to Westminster and Charterhouse. Indeed, it is not too much to say of the games of football at present in vogue, that they are due almost entirely to the desire of men at the Universities and elsewhere for a continuance of their old school exercises, and that their connection with the ancient games is accidental rather than real, remote rather than near.

Of the history of the other form of the game, in which running with the ball is encouraged, but little need be said; for from Rugby School, and from Rugby School alone, what is now known as the Rugby Union game is derived.

If the view we have taken in the foregoing pages be correct, while the running and collaring game was the original national sport of England, the dribbling game owes its origin to schools in which the playgrounds were limited in size, and where various considerations rendered the rough horseplay which characterized football in the ancient times impracticable. In the beginning of this chapter we have pointed out that the size of the Close at Rugby rendered it possible for the boys of that school to play the original game without fear of being hurled when collared against stone walls, or iron railings, or upon surfaces of gravel. Hence we should naturally expect to find, in the game practised at this school, an absence of any restriction in the way in which the ball was to be taken towards the adversaries’ goal, and an equal absence of any restriction in the means of collaring or stopping one of the attacking party in his course, and with no limits to the field of play except those which necessity demanded. It is the very style of game which is known to have been in vogue at Rugby fifty years ago. We need scarcely refer to the well-known description of the football match in “Tom Brown’s Schooldays at Rugby,” as that description is hardly likely to be unknown to any of our readers; but if any take the trouble to reperuse it after reading these pages, they can scarcely fail to notice how little the Rugby game described there differs from a Rugby Union “Big-side” at the present day. Indeed, until within the last few years the Rugby School game suffered no alteration; but lately the tripping, hacking, and indiscriminate charging have been abandoned, no doubt more in respect to the feelings of the numerous fifteens who visit the school to play matches, than from any assumed effeminacy of the hard-shinned Rugbeians. At the present day we believe the Rugby School fifteens, at any rate in their foreign matches, conform to the Rugby Union Code.

No doubt there were many other schools at which a game which allowed running with the ball was practised; but at no other public school than Rugby, as far as we are aware, did the collaring, hacking, and tripping game take root. We can hardly help thinking, when we recollect with what rapturous delight football was regarded at Rugby, that the real cause which kept Rugby football in the background in other schools, was the sublunary consideration of clothes. In ancient times a suit of clothes was an expensive item of expenditure for a young gentleman, while the beef and mutton that he ate cost but a few pence the pound; and so in every sport the question of how the clothes would stand it had to be considered. Had Carlyle been still alive, we might have provided him with materials for another chapter of Sartor Resartus.