But Seriously, Folks...

So you missed the Barry Manilow concert, huh? You and the rest of Chem S-20. Not to worry--even though tickets were as scarce as a fresh piece of bacon at Elsie's, I'm close personal friends with the north goalpost, you see, and he slipped me in past the police guard shortly before 5 p.m. yesterday.

Let me tell you, Harvard Stadium just ain't the same as it was the last time Larry Hobdy did his T.D. hustle in the endzone last November.

For one thing, the goalpost didn't look so hot. I didn't know whether it was bad vibes from too many rehearsals of "Mandy" or what, but the old boy was really wilting. Among other things, the cross bar and two upper poles had been shorn, giving the poor guy the B-school barber shop look.

As I approached the ol' field-goal maker for a pre-concert interview, I could tell it was going to be tough. The combination of the haircut, the summer weather and the teenyboppers milling around had put the grizzled old guy in a sour mood.

Tentatively, I approached the veteran goalpost and asked my first question. Our conversation went like this.

Crimson: "Hey, long time no see. How've you been?"

G.P.: "Well, this is a fine how-do-you-do. Listen, you SOB, the last time I saw you was during the Penn game last fall, when you were hanging out with a pint of Wild Turkey and a sleazy-looking blonde from Pine Manor--"

Crimson: "Wait a minute, I think you must have me confused with my twin brother Gideon..."

G.P.: "Yeah, right, pal, I've heard that one before. But whatever, let me tell ya that that blizzard was no fun, all alone, and the summer hasn't been any great shakes either."

Crimson: "Geez, I'm sorry, I haven't been around and all, but I do have this story to file, so I thought I'd get your reaction on this Manilow business."

G.P.: "Lemme tell ya, this Barry Manifold guy has really got me steamed. I mean, what does a Manifold know about music, anyways? Can he play 'Ten Thousand Men,' or 'Screw B.U.' even?"

Crimson: "I see what you mean. What do you think of the crowd tonight?"

G.P. "Aw, it's not too bad if you can stand 40-year-old ladies in halter tops, not to mention an invasion of teenyboppers that makes the Visigoths' sack of Rome--in 410 A.D., remember--look like a Boy Scout scavenger hunt. Manifold or no Manifold, though, I really love this stadium. There have been some great moments over the years."

Crimson: "Oh yeah? Like the famous 29-29 game of 1968?"

G.P. "Actually, I was in Triple-A at the time; I didn't move up to the bigs until the '69 season."

Crimson: "So what have the great moments been for you?"

G.P.: "Ah, boy. Nothing compares to Milt Holt's amazing last-second pass in '74 to beat the Elis, 21-16." (The post was smiling now, a distant, wet-eyed look on its tarpaulin.) "And the Dartmouth game last year was great, what with taking the Ivy League lead and all. Geez, and all the great players--McInally, Kubacki, Jiggetts, 'Endzone' Crone, Baggott, Varney..."

Crimson: "And where would you rate tonight's concert in relation to those past events?" (Obviously a bad question, for which I received a dour look.)

G.P.: "I'm sorry you brought that up, kid. This Manifold thing made me decide to play out my option. And my contract has a stipulation that I go to Yale if Bobby Vinton or John Denver comes in before December 31. This could be my last year, kid, this could be my last year."