Along with goldfish gulping and backgammon, the last few years have witnessed the virtual disappearance of rugger from the Cambridge scene. To the contemporary undergraduate the name "rugby" might identify a town in North Dakota exalted as "the geographic center of North America" just as readily as it would be associated with a British athletic indulgence occasionally practiced in the United States.

Back in the thirties rugby was an accepted sport in Harvard-Yale-Princeton environs. The high point of the rugby season in those days was the annual jaunt to Bermuda over Easter vacation, when English teams vied for an "international collegiate championship" with their American equals. The Bermuda Athletic Association served as general host at the parties and banquets and likewise had an interest in the exchange of trophies.

Must Find Coach

Ever since rugby coach ex-officio Syd Cabot left for the West Coast soon after the very successful 1944 wartime schedule was completed, Crimson rugby players have been without a mentor. Last spring a delayed search for a man to instruct ruggers in the finer points of scrummaging found no one capable for the task, and that is the problem any '48 Varsity team must face. And unlike filling a gridiron teaching post, it is difficult even to find a man cognizant of rugby rules.

Rugby is perhaps the one sport open to undergraduates and graduates alike. It is not an official Ivy League activity, and often there is better rugby material-- experience, anyway--in the Law School than in the College. Finding players poses no problem: half a dozen 1944 Varsity ruggers still at the University have indicated their willingness to play, and experience of the thirties showed that a number of football players always seemed to find berths on the spring-time rugby squad. With the single and vital exception of lacking a coach, '48 rugby prospects are bright. Whenever Soldiers Field sod is finally revealed from beneath snow drifts, a rugby team can expect to have the usual H.A.A. facilities at their disposal.

Combination of Football, Soccer

Many an American during the war saw the game played by British teams overseas and admitted it was really something to watch "If you only know what in hell it was all about." When eight forwards from each team are clustered in a tight, throbbing circle, trying to heel out the ball to the backs behind them, rugby resembles neither football nor soccer, although the pigskin itself is a compromise between the two. Add to all this running, passing, tackling but no blocking, and toss-outs from the sidelines and you have that strange hodge-page of field sports which is rugby, the ancestor of those same better-known American games.

For opposition this year a Harvard rugby team can certainly depend on Yale, with the strong chance of meeting Army and Princeton squads as well. The Elis last year stole all the American rugby glory by being invited to Bermuda, where they defeated two Royal Navy teams, 9 to 0 and 16 to 3, tied the Gloucestershire Regiment squad, and lost their final game to the Bermuda A.A. by virtue of one free-kick which the Bermudans placed between the goalpost to win 3 to 0. To match this, Harvard must look back to the 1943-44 season when a team, half of them freshmen who had never seen the sport previously, chalked up six wins to one loss and one tie against various British Empire naval and aviation teams.