The Nightmare: Never Going to Score Again

The nightmare that Scott Fusco has been living for seven weeks grew darker and more dismal last night.

The 1984-'85 ECAC Player of the Year--despite his 94 career goals--could not put a little puck in a big net.

Scott Fusco was never going to score again.

The senior captain had tallied once in eight games, gone without one in five, and was looking at another blanking.

Worst of all, the highest-scoring player ever to don a Crimson sweater was losing faith in front of the entire local hockey community, in front of his school, in front of his friends, in front of his family and in front of himself.

With just a couple of minutes to go in the second period of the Harvard-Boston College Beanpot game last night at the Garden, Fusco had the puck alone four feet from the net. The Crimson was trailing 4-0, Eagle goalie Scott Gordon was down and it was time this jinx finally ended.

Fusco fired and the puck ended up in the stands.

Scott Fusco was never going to score again.

Thirty seconds later, Fusco tipped the puck past Gordon and over the goal line at the tail end of a goal-mouth scramble.

Finally.

Referee Harry Ammian just stood still, didn't raise his hand and steadfastly ignored the glowing red lamp behind him. He pointed to the face-off circle. No goal; he had whistled the play dead before the puck went in the net.

Now louder. Scott Fusco was never going to score again.

A year ago, Fusco scored a goal with less than a minute left to beat Clarkson, 2-1, in the ECAC semifinals here to give the Crimson a shot at the conference title and a berth in the NCAA quarterfinals. Fusco pushed his team to victory that night despite an almost debilitating back injury that had him swaddled in heating pads before, during and after the game.

That was then. Between the second and third periods last night, no such feats would have seemed possible.

"I thought it was another one of those nights," Fusco said after the game. "The team counts on me. I don't want to let the team see it bothering me."

But Fusco's head was hanging down; the team could see it and so could the small group of fans who remained to see the sixth and final period of last night's twinbill--and so could Crimson Coach Bill Cleary.

"He's been talking to himself," Cleary said.

And as Fusco jumped to the ice for shift after shift--Cleary having long abandoned his usual four-line system--the truth seemed to get clearer.

With just three minutes gone in the third period, the Captain got a feed from defenseman Mark Benning 10 feet in front of the net. And Fusco fell down.

His clear glass faceshield kept his skin from actually touching the ice, but Fusco had fallen on his face.

Scott Fusco was never going to score again.

Fortunately, this story does have a happy ending. Remember that Fusco is a hero. The 5-ft., 9-in., 175-lb. center is a bigger-than-life athlete whose talents seem to grow to meet the urgency of the moment.

Still trailing 4-0 last night, the Crimson needed redemption. As the clock ticked down, Harvard was clearly headed for yet another consolation game. Yet another 5:30 fiasco in front of five thousand chattering gossips--a hockey game in a hotel lobby.

At 15:18 of the third period, B.C. goalie Gordon--who had kept Fusco and the rest of the Crimson off the board with some truly marvelous stops--drew a penalty for throwing his stick. Just 12 seconds later, Scott Fusco tucked home the rebound of a Lane MacDonald shot.

It was the 95th goal of his career, his 12th this year and his fourth in Beanpot play. And his first in a very long time.

Three minutes later, Fusco did it again.

But for a local kid it was a night to forget. Four Beanpots and no victories that really meant anything, four Beanpots and nothing to brag about. For Fusco and the other seniors, it was tragic.

Scott Fusco did do something for his class, however. When the seniors left the Garden ice, they weren't part of the first Harvard squad ever to be shutout in the Beanpot. Fusco had given the Crimson something--two goals--to remember and prevented tragedy from becoming catastrophe.