are we getting it all wrong?

To the intramural novice, ultimate frisbee would seem to be the perfect debut. Danger is low, team spirit high and probably everyone is there for a sporty study break. Right?

Colorful IM bulletin boards in dining hall lobbies convey a friendly and low-key mentality that appeals to the reluctant athlete. Rah rah, go House, and maybe even win a game--that's what IMs should be all about. But in recent years, a separate attitude has emerged, proving the bubble letter construction paper sign-ups to merely be a part of the conspiracy. In reality, inter-House athletics are ruled by a vicious "take no prisoners" subculture that takes itself far too seriously.

A distinct "hard-core" IM mentality, incredibly intimidating for everyday athletic dabblers, emerges at most contests across the river and up at the Quad. According to Mike Giampaolo '00, IM competition gets pretty intense, partly because of the academic pressures students face throughout the week. While Giampaolo devotes most of his athleticism to varsity football and baseball, he also offers his services to the B-League basketball team. "Tempers really flare sometimes," he says. "People seem to use [IMs] as an outlet. They let their anger out on the court." True to Giampaolo's words, a thrown elbow in a recent Winthrop-Lowell frisbee game came dangerously close to launching the entire affair into a Jerry Springer-style brawl, as players from both teams had to be separated by a vaguely muscular bald guy wearing black jeans from the Gap.

IMs get serious even on the first-year level. At a towering six feet nine inches, John Moore '01 played a key role in his first-year team's capture of the '98 Yard Bucket. His team triumphed in both the 3-on-3 and 5-on-5 basketball divisions. Reflecting on his own surprisingly sensible perspective on IM athletics, Moore concedes, "It wasn't life or death, but people took it pretty seriously. We were very proud of [our championship]." As for Moore's teammates, though, he recalls that "a few guys who played high school athletics took it more seriously...because they weren't the stars [on other teams], but this was an arena in which they could show their skills."

In truth, IM junkies are a distinct and often irritating breed. The field is dominated by males, with token females generally patronized for their biological--rather than athletic--abilities (as in the ability to fulfill roster quotas of co-ed events). The hard core IM player ceaselessly prods his friends to join in the "fun," and then spends entire games conniving to keep the less skilled players benched like Adam Sandler's character in the critically acclaimed major motion picture, The Waterboy. There is a sense on the IM field that people need to prove something--to overcome the stigma of IM athletic mediocrity. IM moguls argue, perhaps rightfully so, that the sole purpose of competition is victory. But in the context of Harvard pressures and stresses, really the fun factor of IM athletics should be most prized.

Games frequently see more blood than a pay-per-view ultimate fighting championship match, and sportsmanship is more valued at the Winthrop Debauchery Dance than on the typical IM playing field. Intramurals, while meant to be an opportunity for brain rejuvenation through clean fun, far too often become bloody tributes to Rocky IV.