Every year some New England college eleven gets touted as a tower in national football and local sports writers start turning the wheels of "Bowl Fever." But just as regularly, some average squad from the West or South invades this citadel of Yankee gridiron prowess and promptly the walls come tumbling down.

Last Saturday at 4:25 o'clock a cardinal-clad University of Wisconsin football squad rated at the bottom of the Big Nine trotted out of the Yale Bowl on the top of a 9 to 0 score.

Stunned more physically than mentally, their Eli victims, reportedly on a par only with Pennsylvania in the East, field out the opposing exit with slightly less animation than their stiffpointed and venerable mascot, Handsome Dan IV.

For the good of football, New England college athletic directors must make a choice between dropping these intersectional tilts or revising the rules on proselyting potential athletes, and the sooner the decision is made, the better.

The purpose of this story, however, is not to discuss the advisibility of either choice but simply to explain what the author saw on Saturday in New Haven.

Wisconsin's Badgers were by far a superior team all the way and they won because (1) their reserves were just about as strong as their regulars, (2) on defense, they could not be confused, and (3) they played the game they knew best, never taking chances.

To prove that the Badger's reserves stacked up pretty favorably with the first team it is only necessary to point out that Wisconsin's two most effective ground-gainers of the afternoon were second-string fullback Ben Bendrick and Gene Evans, third in line for the left halfback post.

The wily Harry Stuhidreher, using all the mental acumen he acquired quarterbacking the "Four Horsemen" under Knute Rockne, had his second eleven in there the entire third quarter. When the fourth period saw the return of the Badger regulars, tired old Eli gave up the ghost.

Spending the great majority of the final quarter in Yale territory, the men from the West finally backed up their first half 3 to 0 lead with a touchdown in the last two minutes of play.

Such Yale stalwarts as Captain Endicott Davison, ace guard John Prchilk, and power-runner Ferd Nadherny watched the final minutes of play from a horizontal position on the side-lines, with barely enough energy to turn their heads in the direction of the scrimmage line.

Defensively, the Badgers were nothing short of superb, blanking the highly geared Yale offense for the first time in 20 consecutive games. Levi Jackson, Ferd Nadherny, and company broke through the stubborn Wisconsin forward wall for a mere 89 yards.

During the entire contest, Badger backs were faked out of position only three times. They didn't intercept any passes simply because they chose to obey the old axiom of staying behind the potential receiver.

Badger tackling was precise and vicious. "Hit 'em at the shoe-strings" seemed the Midwesterners' motto and time after time Eli ball-carriers would find their feet blasted from under them and land with a jarring thud.

Yale was the victim, defensively, of conservative, smart football. Amazingly early in the fracas, Wisconsin had the weak spots figured, sending most of its plays around end or off tackle and hitting the center of the Eli forward wall only on occasion.

Specially avoided was the right side of the Yale front line, where Davison and Prchlik held forth with vigor.