Yale Bulldogs (1934-36)

In previous posts (and GG's Facebook page), I've mentioned the lack of consistency in college football uniforms in olden times. Often, slight changes are made year to year and the older jerseys are kept in circulation as a cost-cutting measure. 

(An aside, and yes, I'm cheating since it's about pro football: Lars Anderson's outstanding The First Star, about Red Grange's 1925-26 barnstorming tour with the Chicago Bears, notes the Bears owned only one set of uniforms and often had to no time to clean them because they were playing on almost-daily basis in order to cash in on Grange's fame. Thanks to the tour's success, the Bears later could afford more unis.)

The Yale Bulldogs of 1936 were no exception. The Sons of Old Eli (not Manning, thankfully) continued to wear their 1934-35 jerseys while they added a new set with a different friction-stripe pattern. The older tops used a navy pattern across the front, while the new ones used bluish-gray stripes off to the sides, perhaps to accommodate the new numbers on the front that debuted that year. The pants, meanwhile, changed changed to fiction stripes on the back, after previously wearing what appears to be a darker shade of tan/gold.

The inconsistency carried over to the only-for-'35 white jerseys: Some have a pattern that mimics the home blues; others are as plain as practice jerseys.  

The 1934 (top) and 1936 (above) Yale teams. Look closely and you'll find
inconsistencies in the '36 home jerseys, particularly the two players flanking
Larry Kelley, who's wearing the "Y" on the front. The "Y" jersey was worn
by the captains in preseason publicity photos, and never in an actual game.

Yale dons the white jerseys against Princeton, 1935.

Another oddity: Yale and navy blue go together like the Ivy League and wine-and-cheese tailgating (hey, I've been to Ivy games, and it's no Pabst Blue Ribbon crowd!), but the Bulldogs wore a decidedly lighter shade, almost a royal blue, from the early 1930s until about 1944. There's something just wrong about Yale and a lighter blue. At least the sacrosanct white helmet was there, although the famed "Y" on the sides was three decades away.

Yale (in the white helmets) takes on Dartmouth in 1934.

Two other notable things about Yale from this era, neither of which have diddly to do with uniforms. In 1934, Yale (only 3-3 at the time) upset heavily favored Princeton, 7-0, despite playing only 11 athletes for the ENTIRE GAME. This marked the last time in the pre free-substitution era a major college team used zero subs in a game. This team has been immortalized in two books, Norman L. Macht's Football's Last Ironmen (a pretty good read, and it gives tremendous insight as to how football was played in the 1930s) and William N. Wallace's Yale's Ironmen (which I haven't read, but I ought to). 

The Yale ironmen of 1934 (white helmets, light jerseys) during
their historic 7-0 win over Princeton.

The other notable item concerns one of the stars of that '34 Yale team, end Larry Kelley, who won the Heisman Trophy in 1936. (The cover of the Wallace book claims he was the first Heisman winner, which is half right -- he was the first winner after the Downtown Athletic Club's trophy was renamed for legendary coach John W. Heisman, and the first after balloting was opened to honor the best player nationwide, rather than the best player east of the Mississippi River. Chicago's Jay Berwanger won the first DAC trophy in 1935.) Kelley, an end, caught 17 passes for 372 yards in '36, back when 17 catches made for a great season. (Today, it might make for a great game.) In failing health, Kelley auctioned off his Heisman in 1999 for more than $300,000.

Larry Kelley.

After his death in 2000 (Kelley shocked everyone by taking his own life), Sports Illustrated wrote this excellent, if sobering, profile of him.

More Yale uniforms that'll make any Bulldog salivate: 2016, 2015, 2014, 2013, 2006-11, 1997-98, 1994, 1996, 1979-82, 1978, 1974-77, 1972-73, 1967-68, 1965, 1959-60, 1954-58,  1949-53, 1930. Rivalry Week: Harvard-Yale.

Larry Kelley disturbingly resembles Vladimir Lenin in this 1930s photo,
but it appears to have been part of a bet on his pro football ambitions, or lack thereof.