Ten Historic Moments for the Harvard Athlete

It is indeed an honor to be asked to write a guest piece for The Harvard Crimson. And not inappropriate, I might add. As a former Harvard goaltender, I have always felt a certain bond with the Crimson writer. Both the Harvard goalie and the Crimson writer work long and hard to master their craft. And both the Harvard goalie and the Crimson writer take a great deal of verbal abuse for their efforts. The only difference that I can see is that the Harvard goalie usually doesn't deserve the abuse.

I approach my typewriter somewhat tentatively as my last contribution to The Crimson was as guest selector for the first week of the football season. My predictions weren't even close, a sorry attempt matched only by the efforts of Bill Scheft. That should come as no surprise to anyone who remembers that Scheft once predicted that the MacLean Stevenson Show couldn't miss.

And so, to address the matter at hand. One might logically ask who am I to be writing in The Crimson? Who cares what I have to say? Well, this hasn't stopped the rest of the staff here. So I proceed.

In the past nine years, I have been applicant to, student in, alumnus of and coach and employee for Harvard University. I have seen, endured, and of course, missed a great deal in this period. And rather than selfishly keep all to myself, I am sharing some of the meaningful moments with you in a sort of athletic history of the recent past. As a Harvard graduate who majored in history, this is the first and most likely the last time I'll ever do anything related to history in my life. Let me begin.

(Note: the ten experiences that the author relates are his own yet common to many who have experienced the Harvard athletic scene in the last decade.)

1. Loss of Innocence, I: The IAB

September 28, 1969. As a high school senior, they told me all about the greatness of Harvard athletics. The first college sporting event was a Harvard crew race. "Athletics for All." Winning traditions. Famous athletes and coaches. I heard it all. But no one ever talked about the Indoor Athletic Building. Today I saw it. The IAB. Surely, someone is kidding me. This must be the annex to Cambridge High and Latin. It is bad enough that this building exists. It is worse that I am inside it. It is appalling that I am here to take something called a swimming test. (Note: in 1969, freshman had to take their swimming tests sans bathing suits, adding to the dignity of the experience.) No one ever talks about this place. Not even the basketball coaches. Particularly the basketball coaches.

2. Personalities

September 1969. Today I met Albie. Albie is the curious fellow who roams Soldiers Field, spouting such phrases as. "Go home, go home, no game today, no game." There is something strangely entertaining about watching Albie direct some crusty alumnus to a proper parking space and watching the alumnus try to reason with him. As I saw Albie for the first time, former baseball coach Loyal Park grabbed my arm and said. "Hey, see that fella over there. That's what happens when you coach here too long." (That's not the only thing that happens. Big Guy.)

3. Loss of Innocence II: Academia

January 21, 1970. Today I saw my first "Boats" final. Eighteen questions, choose four. If I remember correctly, question 7 asked you to spell Magellan correctly. I wondered why the class list of "Gas Stations" was identical to the eligibility list for the varsity football team. And yes, walking into Memorial Hall for Paul Freund's no longer given "Legal Process" (believe me, a gem), I looked around and actually thought I had walked into Dillon Field House by mistake. As athletes often quoted about the work load at Harvard, we like to think of ourselves as directly responsible for the Core Curriculum proposals.

4. The Socially Conscious Athlete

March 2, 1970. Tonight, a group allegedly from the SDS (that's Students for a Democratic Society, for those of you who are really younger than I want to believe) allegedly set out to allegedly burn down Shannon Hall, the building that housed Harvard's ROTC program. But they were denied free access to the building when campus police aided by Minutemen-like freshman athletes blocked their path. Said the Boston Herald: "The marchers were denied when they confronted a group of freshmen jocks." The aforementioned "jocks" were a group of freshmen who for the most part had been watching the Bruins/Flyers hockey game on TV 38 and were summoned by a would-be Paul Revere who went from dorm to dorm in the Yard screaming of Shannon's impending doom. Out of nothing more ideological than terminal boredom, the masses were so aroused. So much for social consciousness.

5. The Athlete As Problem Solver

November 3, 1970. I spent two and a half hours tonight trying to figure out how to apply for tickets to the Yale football game. (Note: that's how a sophomore talks: "the Yale football game." Later, after purchasing my first chamois shirt from L.L. Bean's and generally getting "with it," I too learned to call it The Game.)

6. The Athlete In The Real World: Dealing With The Cost of Living

April 8, 1971. The athlete at Harvard is not sheltered from the real world. He (or she) too must face the cold, sometimes bitter realities of life. And so it was today when I discovered that the price of a Cheeseburg Special at Charlie's Kitchen was now $1.75. No undergraduate at Harvard today remembers the days when said special was 99 cents...and that included a beer. On many occasions while discussing why Harvard is reluctant to admit average athletes with varsity aspirations. Jack Reardon, athletic director and former associate admissions dean, has said. "We don't want a situation where a kid doesn't make the varsity and he spends four years drinking at Charlie's Kitchen." It seems logical to conclude that the University must be ecstatic with those of us who made the varsity and spent four years drinking at Charlie's Kitchen.

7. The Athlete, The Media, and The Public

February 1972. A varsity athlete at Harvard must face the music. Not a professional, still the Harvard athlete is in the limelight and people and the media will be demanding. So this athlete learned when the hockey team for which he tended goal lost four straight games. I thought it had peaked after a Beanpot loss to B.U. when The Crimson compared my glove hand to that of Marv Throneberry. But the meaning of the term "humbled" was never clearer than on that Saturday afternoon in Ithaca when a lone voice in Cornell's Lynah Rink intoned, "Bertagna, you're not a sieve...you're a funnel!"

8. Leaving Harvard

June 11, 1973. Today I graduated from Harvard University. As my parents watched with pride, Prof. Alan Heimert, Master of Eliot House, presented my diploma and shook my hand, acknowledging my existence for the first time in three years. Amazing what the proper audience can do. If the athlete thinks that graduation means the end of games, wait until he tries to get a job on the outside. That's where the real games begin.

9. The Athlete As Alumnus

1973--.You say that all that school spirit and pride is nothing but a crock. You don't go for that rah-rah stuff. You're above that. But when Yale wins The Game, the tailgating is not as good. And when you go to a cocktail party and someone is raving about B.U.'s hockey program, your stomach starts to turn. And, God, when Ed King beats The Duke and the man stands up there before all of us singing "For Boston," it's enough to make one vomit. You can take the boy out of the arena but....

10. The Athlete as Coach

1977-78. Ten years ago he struggles to fill out the application for admission to Harvard College. Now he is sending notes to the Admissions Office about a woman ice hockey player he is trying to recruit for the team he coaches. The athlete finds that he has picked up many habits of those who coached him. The style, the techniques, the sayings. And he finds he does the same things he said he'd never do if he were coach. And he finds that the players have plenty to say about him just as he had to say about his coaches. And he finds that ten years later, nothing has really changed. Lunch at Elsie's, dinner at Charlie's, win the game and go to bed.