Cacace at the Bat: In Praise of A Different Type of Student-Athlete

The pitfalls of reading period and final exams are many.

Not least among the distractions are the opinionated folk who run into your "Alexander the Great" final and throw bricks around.

I, however, have unearthed a far greater way to focus my attention away from my studies other than such lunatic rages.

While the Ivy League formally forbids its sports teams from competing during exam periods (the Moore brothers on the hockey team have still found a way to outscore the Vikings and Raiders over reading period despite the ban), college sports authorities would be fools to even attempt to stop non-varsity athletes of a certain stripe from engaging in their own bitter bloodsport.

Sports video games.

You all know what I'm talking about. The intensity could not be matched in a thousand Harvard-Yale contests. The finesse rivals even the deftest touch of a squash racquet, and the mental toughness tops that of the most unshakeable pitcher.

My poison of choice happens to be "Tony Hawk's Pro Skater" for Sony Play Station. The sport of virtual skateboarding, somehow overlooked in the broad scope of Harvard varsity athletics, requires a focus and persistence perhaps unmatched by sports that require the competitor(s) to move.

With a good portion of my day dedicated to Tony and his incredibly realistic skating friends, I am now confident that I understand all of the griping that Crimson athletes do about the rigors of work both on and off the field.

Sure, the field I ply my craft on doesn't directly resemble the playing field of many Harvard sports (if nothing else, the couch I play from is greener than Ohiri Field). Still, I give my all when I'm on that couch, and the results often show it.

I can do a 720 Indy Nosebone, skate seamlessly into a backflip over the halfpipe, through the secret room, land with a 50-50 grind, and then ollie off the pole for bonus points and the accolades of my crew.

Do you have any idea how many hours of training and practice went into that moderately difficult combination? The calluses on my thumbs resemble those of the most dedicated rower, and my stamina (six straight hours last Friday afternoon) easily surpasses that of any long-distance runner.

The unheralded video game athlete, beset with the same training-time requirements and intense pressure to perform as any "real" athlete, escapes the sympathy of our administration and fellow students. Finals rudely interrupt an otherwise full schedule dominated by kickflips and varials.

Whatever.

I don't do it for the recognition anyway, nor for the sweet ink on the back page of The Crimson. I do it because I love it, because it's a legitimate outlet for the under-appreciated exercise of "philangeal" dexterity, and I do it because my gelatinously weak will does not let me stop doing it.

Most of all, I do it for my crew. My teammates.

Like real skateboarders, video game skateboarders have crews.

My crew keeps vigil, as do I, anxiously awaiting the next "900 transfer" by the player controlling "the Hawk" himself. Sure, it hasn't happened yet, but that's what makes having a crew all the more important. I draw on the strength of my fellow skaters to pull me through, and |'m there for them. Thick or thin, better or worse. There are no Kobes or Shaquilles in our crew.

It's as much of a team sport as any other at Harvard, but without the aggravating trips to the Murr and hassling calls by sports reporters.

This somewhat pathetic rant can easily be viewed a very bored student embittered by harsh realities. And so what if it is.

Maybe I'm bitter that I don't have DHA's. Maybe I'm angry that I found time to pull myself away from Tony Hawk long enough to study 180 "Alexander the Great" slides crammed with more insignificant detail than Dennis Miller's commentary, only to have my final turned into a Wesley Snipes action movie.

Either way, I've already wasted too much time trying to explain "sport". Good luck with Hawk, or Madden 2000, or NFL Blitz. I know how it is….