Some players wear white ankle bandages on one leg or both, some wear jackets, others jerseys only. There are differences in padding that are easily recognized after a little painstaking observation, and there are elbow, shin and shoulder guards that lend individuality to the wearer. Some men run higher than others, some take short steps, while others have a free stride. In short, no two men on the field are exactly alike.

One of the greatest aids to the spectator is the tendency nowadays to add some distinguishing mark to the men who are to receive the forward pass. Under the rules the pass may be taken only by the men who have been behind the line or on the ends of it when the ball was snapped. This means as a rule the four backs and the two ends, and these are often distinguished by white cross-belts, white elbow bands, or white squares on the back. It sometimes happens, as in the case of the Navy in 1912, that a line man will be used to receive the forward pass - a guard or tackle - in which ease he too will almost invariably be marked. Care must be taken, therefore, not to confuse this man with one of the ends. Again, it is sometimes the case that a line man or two will have some distinctive mark on the back which will aid the backfield in taking up their positions quickly and accurately when shift plays are used. If six or seven men are thus plainly marked, the difference between any two of them must be found by a quick comparison of size and weight.

It is of special importance to get a line on the kickers, one of whom may be left-footed, in which case the main protection will be formed in front of his left side. Thus, whenever, after the game starts, the protection is formed on the left side, it is safe to assume that the kicker will be the left-footed man, and vice versa. Before the game the players will practise punting, drop and place kicking, the team frequently using a different man for each of these duties, and it is important to follow their practice as closely as possible, so that once the game starts the instant a man drops back of the line the spectator will know at once for which function he is there. If he has not been dropped back for his specialty the move has been made as a blind, and something novel may be expected. Under the most recent change in the rules the punter no longer has to kick from a position five yards back of his own line, and while in the defensive half of the field the punting will probably be done from a point fully eight to ten yards behind the forwards, the punting in attacking territory will often be done from close behind the line. In this case the spectator will have to fall back on his study of identity, for there will be no special formation to mark the play.

While this study of identification will have to be done in the course of the preliminary practice, there will be plenty of time for the spectator to speculate on the effect of weather conditions. The wind is the most important factor in football generalship to-day, and all other things being nearly equal the team making the better use of it will win the game. It is important for the spectator to get an accurate idea of the strength and direction of the wind so that he will be able to arrive at a just estimate of the work of the kickers and the play of the ends who are covering them. To this end he should observe the drift of the clouds, if there be any, and watch the flags in the topmost rows of the stands, for at a point lower down the flutter of colors will be deceptive. Granted a fair wind the team that wins the toss will choose to defend the goal favored by the breeze, making one of the most important moves of the game. This team, the spectator must know, will make the utmost possible use of the kicking game, while the other eleven will resort more to running in order to use up time.

When there is little or no wind the sun becomes an important factor, and the team winning the toss will choose the goal with the sun behind it. At most fields the wind drops rapidly as the sun lowers, and the advantage of natural conditions is not supposed to be so great as a rule in the latter part of the game.

The condition of the surface of the field is worth noting carefully, for it has a bearing of great moment on the choice of plays. In heavy going weight is a serious factor, while the value of speed, and especially of shift plays that depend upon perfect timing, dwindles rapidly. The kicking game also suffers, for it is difficult to get the ball up cleanly, especially when drop or place-kicking. An excellent example of this was the game between Yale and Princeton at New Haven in 1911. The sky was clear and there was a high wind, but the condition under foot reminded one of the first week's work on the Panama Canal. The Yale eleven was led by Arthur Howe, who had made a considerable reputation as a drop-kicker, and was equipped with a sufficiently versatile midfield attack to bring Howe many times within striking distance of the Tiger goal. Indeed, the running attack was so well planned that many of the Eli coaches believed it would be good enough for one touchdown. Failing that it was confidently expected, and with sound reason, that Howe would be able to score from the field not once but two or three times. As it turned out, however, the Yale backs could not keep their feet even when there seemed every chance of getting clear, and frequently fell, sliding in the mud, with no Princeton player within tackling distance. Even so, they made enough ground to give Howe half a dozen chances to score by drop-kicking, only one of which he was able to accept. He found it simply impossible to get the ball up. Time and again the leather slipped in the mud just as his toe swung forward to meet it, and thus Yale's whole cleverly planned game went for nothing against an eleven that showed practically no running attack and was forced to depend entirely upon clever punting and covering of kicks, plus the opportunism that resulted in Sam White's long run for a touchdown and victory.