Upton Writes on the Present Status of Football in Relation to Undergraduates

That Harvard's football business is turning into a pleasure and undergraduate interest is confining itself to the spectacle and its social accessories is the burden of an article entitled "Notes on Harvard Football," by T. G. Upton '31, appearing in the most recent issue of the Harvard Graduates' Magazine.

The article undertakes to prove that there is little undergraduate concern over the winning or losing of a game by pointing out the demise of pre-game rallies and the change in the attitude of the players. And an appeal is made for the scheduling of contests with institutions which have more definite common interests with Harvard than some of the colleges now appearing in the stadium.

September is here--and thousands of sport writers breathe a sigh of relief and greet the football season with two-inch headlines. Once more the stadiums swarm like great cement hives and raucous crowds watch the big blue, green, red, or gold team sweep to victory. Again the great God Pigskin is enshrined in the hearts of the mob and "over-emphasis," "commercialism," and "subsidization" lead the catchwords flung back and forth among athletic purists, writers, directors, and old grads.

The undergraduate, who plays the game, or watches it or refuses to watch it, is strangely apart from all this turmoil and controversy. The collegiate balloon of football sentiment has been pricked sometimes during the last decade and most of the hot air has leaked out, from his standpoint if not from that of the crowds. The charge of over emphasizing the sport cannot be laid at his door. At Harvard the days of torchlight parades, read flares, and mass meetings, outlived the mole-skin era in football pants, but not by long.

In Cambridge, about four years ago, a last attempt at reviving local college spirit was made, a last futile effort to gather the College together to back up the football team. The occasion was a rally at the Union before the Yale game. For several days before the eventful evening, influential, albeit slightly bored Seniors canvassed the dormitories for recruits; lethargic meetings were held, resolutions passed, and a few ambitious first-year men scoured the city for red lights. When the big night arrived, only a handful of upper-classmen were pres- ent, a group so small that the gathering would have been a complete failure had it not been for the presence of the whole Freshman Class, which had turned out en masse for their first--and last--college football rally. The members of the team, grouped together like so many rubber plants, were seated on a stage at the end of the hall, together with several fiendishly loyal and enthusiastic old "H" men, who glowered at the meager group of undergraduates, irritated because the whole University had not put in an appearance.

No Team Support

The undergraduate of today looks upon a football game in much the same manner as he does upon a circus, a prizefight, or a professional baseball game. It is an exciting spectacle and one to which he can take his family or friends. He would no more think of attending a game to support the team than he would attend the Follies because the third girl from the left came from Chicago, his home town. A good deal of jovial intercollegiate rivalry exists and always will, which is natural. Undergraduates will back their team to win and cheer the players, but with somewhat less enthusiasm than a Boston hockey fan would back the Bruins. After the game is over and a snake dance indulged in, or watched casually, the student can join his friends from Dartmouth or Yale or whoever the game may be with for a pleasant evening in Boston. With the exception of the team and the attaches, few undergraduates care who has won.

A football game has ceased to be a titanic struggle between the elevens of two Alma Maters, a battle which moves the deepest feeling of the undergraduate spectators. Rather it is an occasion for a pleasant meeting with old friends from other colleges, it is a festival, a holiday combining the most enjoyable features of an old Roman gladiatorial struggle, a burlesque show, and a Memorial Day Parade. If the weather is fine, one prefers, perhaps, to play a round of golf, but usually it is more amusing to take part in this Saturday reunion with the excitement of the crowd, the bands, and the gay colors.

Suggest Nearby Rivals

Thus from the student viewpoint, games with neighboring colleges are far preferable to those with colleges located in the Middle West or the South. No natural rivalry exists between Harvard, and, for example, the University of Florida. Undergraduates have few friends at Michigan; as a meeting of two colleges a game with Texas is merely a meeting of the two teams, arousing no more interest than a healthy athletic exhibition of any sort.

An Iron Man of former days would be shocked to look into the practice field some afternoon in early October and see the apparently casual way that practice is going on. He would be still more shocked to perceive the evident enjoyment that the players are getting out of the afternoon session; but whatever his personal feelings, he would be unable to deny the efficacy of the system.

Football as Big Business

There is no doubt that at Harvard varsity football is a big business proposition. For the outside world it is surrounded with all the glamour of headlines, photographs, exaggerated stories, and tabloids which the public demands. But--and this is what really counts--it has ceased to be a game, and a gentleman's game. Undergraduates play it because they like it, and because it is one of the finest sports on earth, and because it has not been spoiled for them as it has for those of many other colleges.

To a player there might well seem to be two separate spheres of activity, two spinning worlds whose orbits coincide for one brief moment at game time. On one side is the spectator and the speculator, the loyal old grad and the girls in red hats, the bands and the winning