"The Polish Connection" Makes One Last Hit

It's not p.c., but it's the P.C.

The Polish Connection, Harvard's two-man defensive tandem up the middle, has helped anchor arguably the best defense in the Ivy League this year. Senior tackle Chris Nowinski and senior inside linebacker Isaiah Kacyvenski even have custom-made T-shirts to validate the Connection's existence.

Others on the team might be rolling their eyes, but they'll probably let the heart of Harvard's interior run defense get away with it, since the Crimson's last three opponents have rushed 77 times for 64 yards.

What isn't as clear is how the Polish Connection got started.

"He started it," they say, pointing at each other.

"He lied in a previous article when he said it was me," Nowinski said.

"What are you talking about!"

"It was you--you created it then put it on me because you felt embarrassed about mentioning it. That is the God's honest truth. You said we've got to get the press to start calling us the Polish Connection out of the blue, and I said fine."

"I remember hearing that, and him saying, 'Oh, you're the other half.' 'The other half,' like you're the original half--real condescending," Kacyvenski complains.

They're not the only two people of Polish descent on the team, but the Polish Connection has very limited enrollment.

"There's a few other 'skis on the team, but we've denied them access--they tried to weasel their way in," Nowinski says. "John Kadzielski, Mark Laborsky, Paul Stekala. You have to be either me or Isaiah. When we--when he--created this we decided it was just us."

"We created it," Kacyvenski says.

"All right, fine, it was a mutual genesis. Both of our brains separated and then we came together and said we should call ourselves the Polish Connection at the same time," Nowinski says.

See how well they get along?

They're not even the most Polish people on the team.

"We call Stekala the Polish Nightmare," Kacyvenski says. "He speaks fluent Polish and has been drinking vodka since he was 2."

However, their common ancestry and common interest--stopping the run--has helped the two form a relationship on and off the field.

"We work in tandem anyway," Nowinski says. "We're a symbiotic relationship. We feed off each other."

"He's always in front of me, he's taking double teams so I can make the tackle, and hopefully I can do the same for him," Kacyvenski says.

The two were bunkmates this past summer in DeWolfe and said their experiences brought them even closer.

"We'd always been pretty good friends, but we were immediate roommates when we lived together with Chris Eitzmann, Mike Clare, Brandan Kramer and Spencer Knibbe. We even shaved our heads together," Kacyvenski says.

As for the inevitable question--when 550 pounds are distributed over two people in a bunk bed…

"I got big-timed into sleeping on the top," Kacyvenski says.

"I was about 300 this summer, it was unsafe," says Nowinski in defense.

"He was actually 302 one time."

"That's hearsay."

Summer life was more than breaking the bunk bed, which happened at least once. The Polish Connection has plenty of stories, several of which are printable.

For instance, Kacyvenski is admittedly not one of America's great chefs and claims Nowinski is pretty good. The most ringing endorsement was, "He uses spices and stuff."

"Yes, I do use spices--this magical potion, spices," says Nowinski, rolling his eyes. "I marinated my chicken once or twice--that was huge. This guy would bank like a baby bird, he'd sit on the couch with his mouth open, and Eitzmann would throw him food while he was cooking."

"I'd never been on my own before, and my dad always cooks for me back home, so I had a little trouble picking up everything," says Kacyvenski, suddenly on the defense himself. "I mean, I had chicken and pasta every night."

The two also worked out with Mike Boyle, who specializes in getting pro football hopefuls ready for the combine, an annual show players put on for the NFL scouts. Kacyvenski, Nowinski, Clare and Eitzmann all traveled to Burlington, Vt., twice a week to work out with Boyle.

"Oh, that time your car broke down, that was funny," Kacyvenski says. "What was up with that girl who stuck around with you?"

"Oh God, that girl was married, dude. I drove separately and broke down, luckily in the exit we take. They all rolled up about 30 minutes later. It was nice, the four of us pushing my car across six lanes of traffic, flagging down cars. One girl was setting a block for us with her car. Then some girl stopped out of nowhere with like nine tattoos and tried to help us fix my car, but then she was married, so we said, 'OK, see you later.' We thought she might have been hitting on us for a second."

"She was hitting on you."

"I guess she was," Nowinski says.

It was at one of the Boyle sessions that Nowinski got his nickname--Mr. Ass.

"We were with Boyle, and he's bragging about how overdeveloped his ass is," Kacyvenski accuses.

"No, that's not the story. The story is that--you always embellish the story--we were doing a stretch, and it involves your gluteus, and he said I was the least flexible, the worst he'd ever seen in his 20 years--and I told him I was overdeveloped."

"But he didn't leave it there."

"I did leave it there! Eitzmann couldn't get around me while we were squatting and said, 'My God, you have the biggest ass I've ever seen.'"

"Anyway, he's turning it his way all the time," Kacyvenski says. "He's bragging about how it's overdeveloped all the time, that it's where he gets his power."

"OK, I did say I had powers."

Other summer stories include an aborted trip to Polish Fest and the mythical trip to Taunton to meet a girl.

"We got there at 1 a.m. on a Tuesday night, and she's got three friends there, and two of them split. We're sitting there, bald and enormous, and all these dudes are hitting on our girls while we're sitting there," Nowinski says.

"But let's get to the moral of the Taunton story. We squeezed in a booth with four ex-cheerleaders from B.C., and these guys they were with told them they were leaving, and they said, 'We're staying here.'"

The summer was serious as well, however. Nowinski consulted from 8-5 then went to the gym until 9 or 10 p.m. before "we'd all squeeze in the kitchen and fight for the one Teflon pan." Kacyvenski, who is a rare combination of pre-med, pre-NFL, worked in a lab at Tufts Medical School.

There's a slim possibility of a Polish Connection at the next level. Kacyvenski's start this weekend will make him the first player in Harvard football history to start 40 games in a career. He already has the school record for single-game, single-season and career tackles and will probably be drafted.

Nowinski is not as much of a sure thing but has come on strong since last season and will probably have a chance as a free agent.

"I have somewhat of a shot," Nowinski says. "I don't know what I want to do, I'm going to put all my eggs in the go-play-professional-football basket and not give myself a backup and use that as motivation, or I'll be homeless."

"He came in here, and he was really soft," Kacyvenski says. "I've seen him mature, he takes on double teams like it's nothing."

"One of my famous moments this year, it was a block-back from the center, and he grabbed my arms, so I reached out and headbutted the running back down. I was the only one to touch him," Nowinski says.

"That has nothing to do with the story, though," Kacyvenski says.

"But it's an example of my maturation."

The Game is probably the last time the Polish Connection will play together, but both say that their off-the-field bond will last for the rest of their lives.

"Maybe our kids will be the next generation of the Polish Connection," Nowinski says.

Even if their teammates don't buy into the Polish Connection hype, they'll admit that next year's defense will struggle to fill a gaping hole up the middle with the same talent and leadership that Kacyvenski and Nowinski provide.

And deep down inside, they're probably jealous about the t-shirts as well.