Long ago, in a simpler, kindlier age, Harvard University was a football power. In 1919, for example, its football machine rolled up a total of 222 points, as against 13 for its opponents. Its record marred only by a 10-10 tie with Princeton, the Crimson accepted a bid to Pasadena; and on January 1, 1920, Harvard ushered in a new decade by becoming the first Eastern team to win the Rose Bowl.

Things were never to be quite that good again. Harvard football had come a long way from "Bloody Monday; and although Yale was to be The Game in college football for many years to come, Saturdays were going to get an awful lot quieter.

By 1950, Harvard was become a synonym for the nadir of collegiate football; and the Class of 1925, which remembered better days, was to give $35,000 to the College for the frank purpose of athletic scholarships. With this gesture amateur football, which had known Harvard as a cradle, now looked down into its open grave.

Ironic that Harvard, the originator of big-time football, was soon to repudiate it utterly. Big-time football was no longer a game for amateurs; and Harvard, unwilling to become an athletic powerhouse, became a moral one.

The presidents of the Big Three--the phrase had been coined beccause of football domination--in 1951 issued a statement known as the "Ivy Group Agreement." In this, it was agreed to abolish football clinics, spring practice, and post-season games; to set up a round-robin with schools in the Ivy League; and to reduce the length of the season.

This supposedly put an end to the controversy about the place of football at Harvard, which had raged since the middle of the 19th century.

Originally, the game here was a form of hazing, and was played as a contest between sophomores and the incoming freshmen. The ball was relatively unimportant on these occasions, which soon became known as "Bloody Mondays," and were cast into limbo.

It was in 1871 that football, after being prohibited by a faculty decree for 11 years, was resurrected by a group of students who had played the game in prep school. The Cambridge Common was selected as the field until the City Council, prompted by indignant towns-people, kicked them off.

This early game was known as the "Boston game," a sort of cross between rugby and a free-for-all. A curious feature was that a player could run and throw or pass the ball only if he were being pursued by an opponent. When the opposing player gave up pursuit he called out to the runner, who had to stop and kick the ball.

In 1874, some students met representatives of McGill University--in what is generally recognized as the legitimate predecessor of modern football. Since McGill played under rugby rules, the teams agreed to meet twice, first playing the "Boston game" and then the McGill rugby. Harvard won the first match easily, and held the Canadians to a scoreless tie at their own game. A half-dollar admission was charged, and the $250 collected was used by both teams for a drunken orgy.

The next challenge went to Yale. Three half-hour periods were played, no time outs, fifteen players on a side, no padding worn. Harvard won, four goals and four touchdowns to nothing. Forty students went down to New Haven for the game.

The following year, only 11 men were on a side, and two 45-minute periods were played. Early in the second half Yale kicked a field goal for what proved to be the margin of victory, and spectators swarmed on the field and wasted 20 minutes of playing time carrying the Yalies around on their shoulders.

The Eighties saw radical changes in Harvard football: systematic coaching, organized practice, a training table, and faculty rulings. Games at first were not allowed in Cambridge until after four o'clock in the afternoon, and in 1885 the sport was placed under a University ban--lifted the following winter. In the fall of 1890, a Harvard team broke through and defeated Yale for the first time since 1875.

Training was also being improved. 1889 saw the first spring practice. Two years later a crude and brutal machine called the tackling dummy came to Harvard. Dr. W. M. Conant '79 was made team doctor and began a custom of players' retiring from the field between halves for rubdowns and first aid.

After football had ridden out the storm of protest against its brutality, Harvard coaches began to devise even more brutal plays. Yale was no laggard either; and the second half of The Game of 1892 saw the introduction of collegiate football to the "Flying Wedge." "Guards Back," "Tackles Back," the "Turtle Back," and other brawny plays soon followed. By 1894 the games were so gory that a two-year break in relations with Yale resulted.