The First Year: Installation

Putting the single wing into Harvard football has been comparatively easy, at least as far as Nelson's department is concerned. "The system's been evolving since 1940, and a lot of boys out west grew up with it; here we had to teach the backs the feeling of the thing more than the actual execution, which came quickly enough."

On the field, Davey is rarely still. Through the first weeks of pre-season workouts, following the maxim, "You can't play without practice," he maintained a killing pace for himself as well as for the backfield squad. There's been less actual field work since then--"it never seemed to get dark so early out in Michigan."

Not Superstitious

The Crimson's backfield coach certainly doesn't fall into the superstitious class. Like all of the new football family, he counts the final score as the big thing. "There's no such thing as a moral victory" was his remark before the Columbia game, and it apparently keynoted that week.

But at home it must be different. Nelson's two cocker spaniels, Flash and Gooky, will block and tackle for dog biscuits. "And when you ask them what they do on Saturdays," Davey admits craftily, "They stand on their hind legs and pray."

(This is the fourth in a series of articles profiling the now members of the Harvard football coaching staff.)