The Team of Destiny: 1922 Tiger football

This is the third in a series of articles on Princeton football in honor of its 135th anniversary.

Those who are more versed in Princeton lore may know which street is referred to in this article. It's not the infamous 'Street' for which a portion of this paper is named. It sees little traffic these days, but it carries along its path not just undergraduates and professors but also the story of one of the proudest and most inspirational football tales ever told — that of the 1922 Team of Destiny.

It's just a narrow alleyway, not quite wide enough to have two cars pass side by side. It's an unassuming stretch that starts on Prospect Avenue, cuts through two eating clubs and leads right to Palmer Stadium. Its name is Roper Lane.

Bill Roper '02 played football for Princeton from 1898 to 1901. When he began playing, football had been around for less than thirty years. It was not the football we know today, but in many ways it was very similar.

There were 11 players on each side. When football first began, 25 had been allowed. The concept of downs had been legislated into the rule books around the time Roper was born, and the helmet had been introduced two years before he began playing. Passing was not legalized until 1906, but the one essential, enduring ingredient of football — a collection of men each trying to function as one — was present then and has lasted throughout the history of the sport.

Roper isn't known for his extraordinary football skills, but that's because he wasn't an extraordinary athlete. He isn't known for being a great technical coach. He wasn't an amazing strategist; he didn't even have a playbook. He let the players on the field pick the plays. His game was inspiration.

"There was no rhyme or reason about [the plays]," Ted Drews '25 said in a '60s interview. "And none was keyed to any other play."

The team itself was not very skillful, either. The 1922 team returned just three starters. The average size was 5'11", 180 pounds. In Of Tigers and Touchdowns by Peter Carey '64, Charlie Caldwell '25 said, "We were not much on offense. Herb Treat '23 at left tackle and Howdy Gray '23 at left end were fine players. The captain, Mel Dickenson '23, was too. Jack Cleaves '24 was our only outstanding back, the rest of us were just so."

For Roper, football had little to do with technique, strength or skill.

"Football is 90 percent fight," Roper said.

And that is what Roper brought.

The Tigers couldn't pass, couldn't catch even if they wanted to pass and couldn't carry the ball either. The starting back on the team carried the ball once all season. But boy, could they fight.

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Despite starting with a 30-0 win over Johns Hopkins, The Daily Princetonian called Princeton's 1922 team, "a disappointment." One writer wrote, "The Princeton offense was poor, and the weakness of the visitors did not give the Tiger defense a chance to prove its worth . . . Coach Roper used three complete backfields during the game, none of which showed any marked superiority over the other two."

But soon, as Roper's team unexplainably began beating team after team, Princeton and others began to take notice.

W. O. McGeehan of the New York Herald wrote, "To an expert, the victory of Princeton may seem inexplicable. It was a good team, that Yale team, beautifully drilled with a fine attack and a fine defense. Its apparent power was well directed and its attack was shifted intelligently. There were no stars [on the Princeton team], just a football squad fired with the desire to do something to add to the glory of Old Nassau."

The Tigers had a perfect season, winning all eight games and winning the Big Three title — its first since 1911.

Even after beating Harvard, a victory in the final game of the season, against Yale, seemed an impossible feat.

Princeton's defense was able to keep the Elis off the scoreboard the whole day. The boys of Old Nassau snuck by with a 3-0 win to secure the undefeated season and the Big Three win.

Princeton never would have made it that far if it hadn't been for its greatest triumph of the season, an improbable win over Chicago.

It was the first time in football history that an East Coast team would travel to the west to play a game. The Tigers rallied from an 18-7 deficit in the fourth period to win, 21-18, against one of the top teams in the nation coached by the venerable Amos Alonzo Stagg.

Down 11 points with 12 minutes to go and with the ball on Princeton's own two-yard line, Tiger back Jack Cleaves inexplicably threw the ball to quarterback Johnny Gorman '23 who ran it to the 40-yard line. Chicago stuck fast and regained possession after four fruitless downs. But Gray, the left end, caught the ball after the Maroon quarterback bounced it off his own tailback and ran it in for a touchdown.

In the stands, one spectator was so excited he inadvertantly hit the person in front of him with a rolled up program.

"Watch out there!" another man said, "that's my wife you just hit."

"Terribly sorry," the spectator said. "That's my son who just made that run!"

"Oh," said the man. "Go ahead, hit her again."

On the next possession, Princeton got within Chicago's six-yard line in two plays and with the help of two Maroon penalties. It took the Tigers four downs until Harry Crum '24 took it the rest of the way and snatched the lead, 21-18.

Chicago ran the ball to the Princeton one-yard line, but despite giving the ball to John Thomas, who had already scored all three previous touchdowns, was unable to penetrate the Tiger defense to regain the lead.

Up in the press box, Grantland Rice was working out his lede for the New York Herald, calling Princeton's 1922 squad "The Team of Destiny."