THE SPORTS DOPE

Three of them are Catholics and three are in the starting offensive line, but saying the room that prays together, plays together sells them a mile-and-a-half short. There is a deeper bond and a livelier respect in Eliot K-32 that makes it a showcase for the good aspects that both go into and come out of Harvard football.

Tom Weiss, Chris Burns, and Dave Vitale were thrown together freshman year a floor above Dick Manchester in Grays West--the Holworthy of the South Yard in 1964. Bob Brooks, who had roomed with a Crimson reporter in Hollis, linked up with those four as they headed for Eliot House. A sophomore detour in Claverly Hall landed them next to two legitimate Holworthys, Marshall Goldberg and Mike Hallock. The next year they moved to Eliot's K entry, and with a couple of sidekicks thrown in have controlled the third floor for two years.

A room with six varsity football players sounds like something from Bear Bryant Hall at Alabama, and it is unique at Harvard. But if you look closely you find a pattern that describes the average senior conglomeration: varying personalities with underlying common interests. And in the best House system tradition, there is a cross-section of sorts, ranging here from a sure-bet All-Ivy to a seldom-playing assistant coach's assistant.

Brooks, at 235 lbs., is the big man among the big men and has led Harvard tackles in playing time for two years now. Burns, whose bulk has led to the nickname "Pear," was Brooks's runningmate at left tackle until a neck injury in the Dartmouth game cut short his Crimson career. Symmetrically between the two is Tom Weiss, who has been a center since he took up football in fifth grade.

Goldberg, perhaps the most popular and underplayed member of the Crimson squad, recovered from a staphylococcus infection at the season's start to become the top halfback reserve. Manchester, who has been plugging away at defensive safety for three frustrating seasons, was rewarded with a promotion this week, from nowhere to Tom Williamson's understudy. And Vitale, who impersonated six All-Ivies in practice last year, still helps coach Loyal Park by running opposition offenses against the first-string defenders he never became.

The role football plays in their lives varies qualitatively, but to all of them it means a lot of time spent. They head down to Dillon Field House after 4 five afternoons a week and practice lasts until 7:20. Dinner at the Varsity Club and meetings with coaches extend to 9 or 10, after which K-32 becomes boisterously alive for an hour or so. Lights invariably go off before 11:30. Hours for study have to be grabbed on the run, but not in K-32. The room is reserved for light-hearted but loud banter, along with Temptations albums, screams from the Monopoly and Football Strategy boards, and cries of "Louie," "Bo," "Horse," and "Manny."

Goldberg, the only one writing a thesis, uses the library more than others. His diligence is matched by Weiss, who has taken five courses since taking a leave of absence sophomore fall semester. In the conflict between athletics and academics, it is the grades that suffer, but almost everyone in the room made the "Dean's Team" last spring. Coach John Yovicsin acknowledged last week's hour-exam pressure--Brooks had one Wednesday, two Thursday, one Friday--by giving the team a day off: Friday. The room has its serious times, but they are in December and January rather than before or after a game--even a loss like Princeton.

Sense Of Belonging

But win or lose, pass or fail, football has given them their friends. There is nothing close to jealousy in the room, and the ones who don't play get satisfaction from the accomplishments of the starters. "It is the people that give meaning to the time you spend on it," says the injured Burns, who still faithfully attends every practice. All he can do is take practice snaps from Weiss and semi-manage the citrus fruit pill distribution, but he treasures the sense of belonging. This spirit, it is important to point out, extends beyond this room to the whole senior class. The players all feel cose to each other, and there are no cliques, such as hurt Harvard two seasons ago. Underclassmen are accepted on the field, just as the six footballers have accepted non-athletes assigned to their K-32 complex (also thrown in have been Jim Tew, Francis Mackey, and presently Fife Symington, who "just sits around and makes fun of these jocks," in his own words).

Vitale analyzes the game like a science; Manchester, who only started playing as a high school senior, loves to get in and hit people regardless of the level of competition; Weiss, will leave with a year of eligibility left, finds it harder to get up for each game. Brooks has had pro feelers; Manchester would like to play semi-pro on weekends; Vitale would like to coach at some point; Weiss wants to get on to law school; Burns's interest is in the people and not a lasting one in the sport.

For all their differences, they are as favorable a definition as there is of Harvard football. With luck their spirit may live on. In any case Hallock, with two years of eligibility left after playing for Camp Pendleton will not only live on but will try out for punter and defensive back next season.