As strange as and possibly stranger than the spectacle of modern football are those occasions known as "big pre-game evenings." These evenings, wondrous tings in themselves and honored as rituals, list for hours and hours; sometimes they last for days. Their commercial possibilities are quickly recognized by hostelries, restaurants, and theatres, and are exploited accordingly. And then buried deep in the tinsel; there is also the game itself. What, however,, is coming to be practically optional. The evenings loom larger.

No one, said Mr. Milne's royalty, no one could call him a fussy man. Likewise with those simple souls who still enjoy football for the sake of football and not for the sake of the havoc it creates. They are not fussy, but the present trend leaves them bewildered. Where in the carnival should those three hours which once formed the be-all and end-all be placed." Stripped of their trappings crowds, stadia, bands, riots how do they rate?

The answer is a sad one. Football no longer requires an afternoon; it demands a weekend. There is no especial use in again bewailing the encroachment of the game on the students time. Surely week ends are pleasant enough. But the fate of the game itself is bitter. Once the center of all attractions, it is being relegated to the position of a sideshow. Originally the star, it appears to be veering toward the chorus.