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What's Wrong With Harvard?

THE MAIL

NO WRITER ATTRIBUTED

The Crimson accepts only signed communications, which may be reprinted in this column under initials or fictitious names only at the special request of the writer. The Crimson takes responsibility only for the fitness of communications to be printed, not for the sentiments expressed therein.

That question was probably asked by at least half the crowd Saturday and glibly answered in football terms by the other half.

Criticism for the Harvard team I have none. Coach Horween has both the opportunity and the ability to give it. I necessary and I have neither. My quarrel is with the other part of the combination which is necessary for a successful team: the student body and the cheering section.

As an undergraduate at a small New England college I have many times shouted myself hoarse as The Team came through with a hard-earned victory over a supposedly superior rival; and more often have I similarly cheered on The Team to the inevitable end of a hopeless contest as, outweighed many pounds to a man, worn out by the innumerable fresh substitutes of the opposition, exhausted by four periods of fighting against overwhelming odds, they have crawled of their hands and knees to the scrimmage line, put up a desperate stonewall defense in the shadow of the posts and prevented the touchdown that would have made the score 0-35--or more.

Last Saturday afternoon, armed with my "H. A. A.", I joined the crowd in what was labelled the cheering section. True, it had the pre-whistle appearance of one: row upon row of potential cheerers, five energetic cheerleaders and a Band which has no equal in the college world. The cheering section of my Alma Mater never numbered over 499 effective voices, but many times it has been heard for five miles. The so-called Harvard cheering section of Saturday must have numbered over 2000; I doubt if it was heard beyond the Yard and after Purdue scored a listener in the Square could not have heard it. In vain did cheerleaders repeatedly plead for noise; the section sat stricken dumb, cigarettes drooping, pepless lips feebly echoing the words of the leaders or telling those nearby just what this or that man ought to have done. At times the Band played and the inspiring notes of "O'er the stands in flaming crimson" completely drowned out the pitiful efforts of Ten Thousand Men of Harvard who could have loosed a volume of sound which would have swept the "Yellow Jackets" off the field into the Charles.

It has been said that a team on the field heeds not nor even hears the efforts of a cheering section. It may be so, but, lacking first-hand corroboration, I do not believe it. Ask any man of the Middle-bury team which played in the Stadium four years ago what that little group of howling manaics on the East side of the Horseshoe meant to him; ask the Harvard team of Saturday how much inspiration they drew from those speechless ranks on the West side.

Since becoming an adopted son of John Harvard I have attended eight games in the Stadium. At only one of them, a Yale game, did the Harvard cheering show any real life. Saturday's exhibition was the poorest of all. The team lost to Purdue after a game fight; the cheering section was practically beaten before the kickoff. In six weeks, on November 19, the team will be ready for Yale. Will the cheering section profit equally from these six weeks and be ready for Yale also?

MEN OF HARVARD, shake off the famous indifference, banish that deadly, dumb apathy that prevailed Saturday, make an effort to drown out your leaders' orders, and learn to take a beating on your feet as your team does instead of quitting and waiting for the timer's whistle to count you out! ALLEN D. BLISS 2G

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