The Class of Cornell Hockey

"It is an important responsibility for Cornell University's hockey program to welcome visiting teams with class and distinction."--The Class of Cornell Hockey, a statement distributed before Sunday's Harvard-Cornell men's hockey game and read over the public address system

ITHACA, N.Y.--Cornell Athletic Director Laing Kennedy's message was intended for the fans at Lynah Rink.

Too bad Cornell's hockey players weren't listening.

The rabid Lynah fans have developed--and deservedly so--quite a reputation for outrageous antics when the Crimson comes to town. Their enthusiasm is boundless--and their bag of tricks endless.

Some of their traditions, like tying a chicken to the Crimson net after the second period, are fairly harmless, as long as you don't consider the poor bird's feelings.

But cold-footed fowl aside, the Harvard-Cornell game tradition, the thunderous roars of approval for the home side, the jeers for the visiting Harvard snobs and the sense of excitement in the building give the Crimson's visit to Ithaca a special meaning.

The rare Harvard victories, like Sunday's 11-3 blowout, are so important to the icemen, because of the circus-like atmosphere and because of all the emphasis the Lynah fans put on their The Game.

And when the crowd began to chant, "The coach is bald" at the end of the Crimson victory, Harvard Coach Bill Cleary was quick to return the compliment, nodding, grinning, and joining in the rhythymic hand-clapping.

The Lynah Mob shouted its approval for the good-spirited gesture. Ithaca knew the game was lost but held on to its sense of humor.

But on the ice, the behavior of the Cornell squad was no laughing matter.

The Big Red spent the third period running at the Crimson. With sticks held high, the home side tried to slash a little revenge from the Crimson.

For Cornell, the main chance was now the maim chance. For Harvard, survival was the central strategy.

Taking cheap shots at the Crimson is not excusable. But losing hockey teams often take out their frustrations in the corners, so Big Red's decision to abandon the rising slapshot for the leveling cross-check is not particularly exceptional.

When Cornell Tri-Captain Mike Schafer shot a puck at the Crimson bench--and at Cleary--with just over two minutes left, his action was not excusable. Schafer was deliberately trying to injure the Crimson coach. He would not accidentally misdirect a blast by 90 degrees.

And when Schafer tried to slam Cleary into the boards as the teams left the ice, his action was again inexcusable.

The wonderful enthusiasm of the crowd was lost in the maliciousness of this pair of attacks on Clearly by Schafer.

Maybe Laing Kennedy should teach The Class of Cornell Hockey to his athletes.