For Love of the Game

On the outside, Marc Laborsky may not seem like your average Harvard student.

He is 6’4, weighs in at 230 lbs. and if you were to guess he’s a football player, you’d be right. In fact, you may know from reading the sports pages that Laborsky is one of the best players on the team and is a huge reason why Harvard football is enjoying one of the best seasons in its 128-year history.

Chances are, though, that even if you knew this much about Laborsky, it might not occur to think that he is also one of the team’s most accomplished students. In fact, Laborsky’s academic credentials are just as impressive as his athletic ones.

In high school, the Pequannock, N.J. native not only captained both the basketball and the football teams, but was also awarded the Bausch and Laumb Science and Math Award as well as the Renssalaer Science Medal.

At Harvard, Laborsky has not only shined as one of the Crimson’s best defensive players, he was also one of only four freshmen in the country to win the National Football Foundation Scholar-Athlete Award in 1998. As an added note, freshman tight end Adam Jenkins also received that elite honor this year.

But despite these accolades and his performance off the field as a Governmetnt concentrator, Laborsky is probably viewed as just another “meathead,” as he puts it.

And if you ask other students about athletes at Harvard, you would probably corroborate this fact.

“The only good thing about having football players in section is the prospect of better grades for everyone else,” jokes a Government concentrator who wishes to remain anonymous. An Economics concentrator sarcastically asserts that “some athletes probably only got in [to Harvard] because they can dribble a basketball better than they can write.”

While these comments may seem like harmless attempts at humor, Harvard athletes aren’t laughing. Instead, Harvard’s student-athletes are often stereotyped as being much more “athlete” than “student.”

“I think [Harvard students] do look upon us athletes differently,” Laborsky says. “Sometimes I feel stereotyped and it’s a little frustrating. Then again, it doesn’t really bother me that much, because people won’t come up to your face and say anything.”

Then again, at 6’4 and 230 lbs., not too many people would insult Laborsky to his face. For that matter, few would complain to Tim Coleman, the 6’8 senior center for the men’s basketball team. But even if the condescension and cynicism aren’t actively directed at Harvard’s athletes, the attitudes are nonetheless palpable.

“I know everyone at Harvard is pretty smart, but it often feels like people don’t understand what athletes go through,” Coleman says.

In large part, this is true. If you are not an athlete, chances are you’re not aware of the enormous time commitment and physical exhaustion associated with a typical week of practice and games. Imagine exerting yourself physically for 20 or 25 hours a week, only getting one day off, taking frequent roadtrips that consume entire weekends, and then topping it off with a full courseload.

If you’re not an athlete, you may think that the Office of Admissions gives free passes to those who can run fast, jump high, throw far, or kick hard. Never mind that Harvard is the most selective college for both athletes and non-athletes or that athletes here often outperform their Ivy counterparts both on the field and, statistically speaking, in the classroom.

Perhaps most importantly, if you’re not an athlete, you may not realize that no one at Harvard is compelled to play a sport. There are no athletic scholarships and athletes can, and often do, leave teams if they so choose. This means that the people who still play—the ones who still endure physical wear and tear and who try to balance a tough academic workload with frequent road trips and long hours of grueling practice—do so because they love what they do best.

In this sense, playing a sport at Harvard is no different than writing for The Crimson, singing in an a capella group, or producing a play at the Loeb. Athletes at Harvard play because they sincerely care about their sports, because they value the camaraderie of teammates, and because participating in sports is, in many ways, an extension of their education.

There are still many myths, and misunderstandings when it comes to Harvard athletics. With any luck, these facts and personal stories will help clear up some existing misconceptions and will cast the Harvard student-athlete in a more accurate light.

The Evolution of Harvard Athletics

For a University with several claims to fame, one in particular is often lost in the mix.

On August 3, 1852—a mere 150 years ago—Harvard and its long-standing academic rival Yale competed in the nation’s first intercollegiate sporting event—a crew race held on Lake Winnipesaukee in New Hampshire. True to form and satisfying to our modern mock-hatred of New England’s finest safety school, Harvard prevailed over Yale and began a sports rivalry for the ages.

Long before fight songs, mascots, and stadiums, Harvard was blazing new trails by combining undergraduate academic education with intercollegiate athletics. For the next century and a half, Harvard would continue to push a balanced approach to excellence that involves athletics more than some would anticipate.

According to Robert L. Scalise, Harvard’s Director of Athletics, the focus and mission of Harvard Athletics is to “provide broad athletic opportunities for students to learn life-long lessons.” These lessons include the pursuit of excellence in a balanced manner, the importance of leadership and strength of character, healthy lifestyle habits, and adherence to the highest standards of integrity and ethics.

Scalise, who was an All-Ivy lacrosse player at Brown and a dean at the Harvard Business School before becoming Athletic Director, stresses the leadership experience that many of his B-School contacts had gleaned from college sports. Scalise even mentions how Harvard President Lawrence H. Summers has told him about the lessons he has learned from playing competitive tennis.

The Athletic Department, in its literature, refers to these goals and lessons as “idealistic and realistic.” Cynical minds would be skeptical that such a dynamic could be achieved, but it’s hard to argue with the facts.

Since its inception in 1904, Harvard athletes have been awarded more Rhodes Scholarships (41) than athletes from any other institution in the U.S. In the past two years alone, Harvard can boast 27 Academic All-Americans, including a recipient of a NCAA post-graduate scholarship.

That Harvard can achieve these results in spite of its sheer size is another feat often overlooked. With over 1,500 athletes and 41 intercollegiate sports, Harvard has the largest and most diverse athletic department in the country. Last year, Harvard won six Ivy League titles, sent 20 teams to National Tournament competition, and won two team national championships and three individual national championships.

But despite this rosy picture, some other statistics point to a potentially troubling trend in Harvard athletics. Although roughly 250 students are recruited to play varsity athletics every year, that number steadily decreases over the four years of a given recruit class. For instance, there are currently 256 freshman recruits in varsity sports, 244 sophomores, 229 juniors and 205 seniors. For certain sports, like football, the drop is more dramatic—going from a recruit class of 35 freshmen to only 23 seniors.

There are various explanations for this phenomenon. One reason for attrition in certain sports is the increased intensity of athletics nationwide in recent years. Scalise recounts that in his days as a student-athlete in the 1970s, there was no such thing as cross-training or playing multiple sports year-round. Dean of Admissions and Financial Aid William Fitzsimmons ’67, who was a goaltender for the Harvard men’s hockey team, explains the difference in a similar way.

“I started playing hockey in eighth grade, but now I have a nine-year-old nephew who plays in three summer leagues,” Fitzsimmons says. “It was such a different era back then. Now, people start at a much younger age and are much more specialized.”

Such “specializing” behavior is commonplace across all college sports programs and many of Harvard’s athletes arrive in Cambridge expecting the same amount of playing time or degree of competitiveness as they had received in high school or with club teams.

Naturally, some athletes are frustrated with their lack of playing time in college commensurate with their playing time in high school. An apt example is the quarterback situation for the football squad. Sophomore Conor Black and junior J.C. Harrington left the team because their prospects for playing time seemed slim behind senior starter Neil Rose. Ironically, Rose was injured two weeks ago and freshman Ryan Fitzpatrick has had to step up and fill not only Rose’s shoes, but also the void left by potential superiors Black and Harrington.

Some student-athletes leave their teams because they feel the need to dedicate more time to the “student” component. Sophomore middle blocker Juan Carlos Cardet decided to leave the men’s volleyball team for at least a semester to raise his already solid GPA in anticipation of a competitive graduate school application process. Cardet has told his teammates that he will return in time for the start of the season in the spring if he can take care of his academic business. Even Fitzsimmons took time off from the hockey team to write a thesis in his senior year and is still thankful he made the move that set him on his way to higher education and to where he is now.

“One of the most attractive things about Harvard was the freedom you had in not playing your sport and pursuing some other interest,” Fitzsimmons says. “And I consider my thesis to be the best part of my academic experience.”

To be fair, the earlier attrition numbers are comparable across the Ivy League and are within range of national figures. And considering that the 1954 President’s Agreement (which formed the Ivy League) prohibits Harvard from offering athletic scholarships, the fact that a limited number of Harvard’s athletes decide to pursue other acitivities or focus solely on academics is a testament to the strength of Harvard’s program.

“The beauty of Harvard is that there are so many ways to pursue excellence outside the classroom,” says men’s basketball coach Frank Sullivan. “Without the weight of scholarships, student-athletes are free to change their priorities when they want.”

Rather than change priorities, though, one finds an almost universal dedication among athletes who are constantly challenged and sometimes even forced to stop playing the sports they care about so deeply. Though some athletes decide that playing sports is no longer important to them, many more commit themselves urther to their teams, as well as to academics.

Admissions and Recruiting

A significant amount of credit for the quality of student-athletes at Harvard rightly belongs to the Office of Admissions. With information received from coaches, the Athletic Department, and a national network of 6,300 alumni, the Office of Admissions sets about in early September to select the student-athletes for the incoming freshman class.

According to Dean Fitzsimmons, the Office of Admissions tries to “envision people who can educate their classmates and hook into [Harvard] and find something beyond the classroom.” The decision is a difficult one, Fitzsimmons says, because not only does Admissions look for talented athletes (or musicians, student leaders, and so on for that matter), but also individuals who will leave Harvard and make a “positive impact on the world for the next 60, 70, or 80 years.”

The actual method of selection and admission for student-athletes is somewhat complicated and at times difficult to understand. Then again, its goals are clear—to recruit a class of athletes that will be broadly representative of other Harvard students, both academically and socially.

A central feature of this equation is a value referred to as the Academic Index (AI) number. Pioneered by former Dean of Harvard College Fred Jewett, the adoption of AI by the Ivy League in the early 1980s was intended to guarantee a level of academic excellence across the board for all sports.

“In the old days, there were rumors that one school admitted someone who was way below standards just to make a team better,” says Fitzsimmons. “The AI system was put in place to hold member institutions accountable.”

The system works roughly in the following way. First, students are assigned values that correspond with SAT I scores, SAT II scores, and overall class rank. Each component can vary from 20 to 80 points and all three are added up to get an index ranging from 60 to 240 points. For the SAT scores, much like in the regular admissions process, the highest combination of scores is used.

Take someone who scored a 700 verbal and 650 math on the SAT I, a 750 on the SAT II Writing test, and who ranked first out of a class of 300 students. The class rank, being the highest the student could achieve, would be an 80 and then the top two SAT scores (the SAT I verbal and SAT II writing) would add up to 145 (70 + 75). The index for this applicant would be a 225 out of a possible 240.

For each class of recruits for certain sports, as well as across the entire recruiting class in the aggregate, the average AI index must fall within one standard deviation of the AI scores of the rest of the College. Though Fitzsimmons could not release Harvard’s AI index for any particular class year, he did mention that all of Harvard’s athletes fall well within one standard deviation (in other words, a 16 to 17 percent fluctuation) of the total student body.

However, certain sports receive more AI scrutiny than others. For instance, in the top three most recruited sports of football, men’s hockey and men’s basketball, there are “special institutional controls” designed to ensure that no Ivy school cheats the system for the sake of raw athletic talent.

In football, for instance, there is a procedure named “banding” that is used to ensure that all ranges of AI scores have proportionate representation. Instead of averaging across the entire football recruiting class, Ivy schools band individuals with similar scores together and consider them as a group instead of separately. This ensures, for instance, that five extemely high AI scorers aren’t used to offset the average of having five really low AI scorers.

In addition, there is a “presumptive floor” set by the League to strongly discourage schools to admit anyone below a certain AI score regardless of athletic prowess. This figure is currently 169, and varies depending on how frequently the SAT is recentered or refigured.

In order to admit a student falling below the presumptive floor, an Ivy school must justify the decision to the entire League on the basis of extenuating academic discrepancies or character strengths of the applicant. According to Fitzsimmons, this rarely happens and schools tend to stop considering an applicant if his or her AI score is below the presumptive floor.

Pressed to recall if Harvard had ever violated the presumptive floor to admit a candidate to the school, Fitzsimmons mentioned a case nearly a generation ago.

Though intentionally vague on the details, Fitzsimmons stresses that it was “a personal qualities case” and that the candidate’s AI score was not representative of actual work done or potential growth because said applicant hailed from a rural area and had transferred schools which affected his class rank. In addition, this particular student showed “reassuring test scores” and “sounded extraordinary.”

In general, though, the impression is that AI scores really aren’t a problem when it comes to the types of students Harvard attracts. Coach Sullivan points out that no player for Harvard currently is below a 180 AI score and that most are well over 200. As further proof of Harvard’s commitment to academic excellence, Sullivan notes that Harvard has had the highest AI average for men’s basketball in the League in recent memory.

Harvard’s ability to recruit quality athletes who are also intelligent and capable students stems from the recruiting process itself. Harvard football, according to Head Coach Tim Murphy, also has the highest AI average for recruits of any Ivy school. His positional coaches are responsible to covering one-sixth of the country and all together the program considers over 2000 applicants.

Despite this seemingly large number of prospective students, Murphy points to the Ivy-best AI index as proof that “Harvard Football has the smallest pool of football recruits in the nation because we have the highest academic standards in the nation.”

From the 2000 applicants, Murphy and the coaching staff decide on a top 75 or 100. Murphy then flies coast-to-coast and meets with most of the team’s desired prospects and evaluates them up close. After his trips, Murphy submits a list to the Admissions Office and from there the 35 strongest candidates are admitted to Harvard. Since the Ivy League sets a matriculation cap of 35 athletes per year, both Murphy and admissions officers must be extremely selective. In fact, compared to the College-wide admission figure of 10.9 percent, becoming a Harvard football player is statistically more difficult (35 out of 2000 or 1.75 percent) than becoming a non-athlete student at Harvard.

Another important and unique feature of Harvard admissions with respect to student-athletes is something known as the “broken leg test.” The test is a thought experiment designed to gauge how valuable each applicant could be to the Harvard community and it determines whether or not a prospective student-athlete has the necessary drive and focus to contribute to other aspects of the Harvard community as well as in the classroom.

Essentially, an admissions officer asks, “If this person were to break his or her leg so severely that further participation in athletics would be impossible, how would the student adjust and still contribute to his or her peers and members of the Harvard community?” According to Scalise and Fitzsimmons, every athlete that is recruited to Harvard must past the “broken leg” test as a final hurdle to admission, regardless of AI score.

“It’s not about complying with a number,” explains Fitzsimmons, “it’s about the person behind the number and what that person will contribute to Harvard.”

Although such a policy may strike most as excessive and is certainly without precedent at most colleges around the nation, Fitzsimmons contends that it is necessary because students at Harvard are “first and foremost, here to get an education while also educating their peers.” In other words, without the “broken leg” test Harvard would be violating its stated objective of rejecting one-dimensional applicants. Luckily for some athletes, the wisdom of the “broken leg” test panned out in the end.

Take junior soccer forward Caitlin Butler, for instance. After a solid freshman year, in which she appeared in 13 games for the Crimson, Butler tore the anterior cruciate ligament in her knee during practice the day before the last season’s opening game. She missed the remainder of that season due to the injury, but has returned to contribute to the Crimson squad this year.

But Butler is far from one-dimensional, so when she went down the knee injury it should have come as no surprise that she channeled her energies into other campus pursuits. She is currently a member of the Veritones, one of Harvard’s more popular a capella ensembles. In many ways, Butler has proved right the Admissions philosophy that seeks out those student-athletes who would thrive regardless of athletics.

While Butler is fortunate to be able to return to the sport she loves after a brief respite, junior football standout Matt Leiszler isn’t so lucky.

In preparation for the upcoming season, Leiszler entered last spring’s workouts as the starting running back. The previous season, he had amassed 483 yards on 101 attempts and scored six touchdowns. Everything was looking up for Leiszler—but then an old injury came back to haunt him.

During a routine spring drill, Leiszler tore the ACL in his left knee. As Butler’s story demonstrated, normally such an injury is a temporary setback and only requires surgery and recuperation. But for Leiszler, it was his third such injury in three years. The doctors delivered a grim prognosis and chances are slim that Leiszler will ever play football again.

Despite this stunning blow, Leiszler has taken his injury in stride. The Derby, Kan. native, who could have possibly played for nationally-prominent teams like Notre Dame, Nebraska, or Kansas State, orginally settled on Harvard after being convinced of its many other non-athletic strengths by Assistant Coach Chad Kulnder.

“I knew from talking to Coach Klunder that Harvard would by far be the best combination of athletics and academics in the nation,” says Leiszler. “It would be a chance to compete at a Division I level while also getting the best education.”

And now that Leiszler’s injury has permanently sidelined him, he has a chance to pursue other activites and interests. Leiszler has started working at the Murr Center, volunteers in a tutoring program at King Elementary School, and even has time to enjoy punch season for some of Harvard’s social clubs.

But despite his other activities, Leiszler remains commited to the teammates with whom he has established a close bond. He still makes it out to one practice a week and every Saturday you can see him on the sidelines talking with teammates.

“The coaches and everyone on the team have been fantastic in supporting me through this,” Leiszler says. “I still feel like I’m part of the team.”

And ultimately for Leiszler, that was almost the most important part about even playing in the first place. He admits that sometimes he would wonder if it was worth it to keep playing and sacrificing time, extracurriculars, and social activities. But it was his close bond with his teammates that kept him going, and that still motivates him today.

“I’ve realized through all of this that Harvard is a very unique place, and that athletes here only play for the love of the game.”

A Challenging Game Plan

In addition to potential injuries, time management is a challenge all Harvard athletes have to face.

Harvard, like other Division I colleges, is bound by NCAA regulations which limit team practice and playing time to six days a week and no more than four hours on any given day. And since many of Harvard’s 41 teams face substantial competition, most teams take full advantage of the six-day, four-hour rule. For athletes, this means a solid 20-25 hours a week, not including travel time and only one day off.

Football players, for instance, have

Mondays off. From Tuesday through Thursday, players report for any medical treatment needed at 1:30 in the afternoon. That is followed by breaking down film from the previous week’s game as well as film for next week’s opponent for an hour. From 3 p.m. to 4 p.m., players meet with their positional coaches for game planning and from 4-6 p.m. the team engages in full-padded practice. All games are on Saturdays and Sundays are used for debriefing meetings and watching more film.

There is an obvious academic problem with this schedule. As Laborsky points out, most sections and even many classes meet during the week between 1 and 6 p.m. Football players, therefore, have to either always have sections late at night, very early in the morning, or try to cram everything in on Mondays. Laborsky has two sections on Monday in addition to three and a half hours of lecture. His other sections are Tuesday nights at 7 and Thursday mornings at 9.

The same is true for many other sports. Even the men’s basketball team, which has yet to start its season, currently holds multi-hour practices during the week to prepare for the upcoming slate of games. Come February, when the Ivy schedule kicks into gear, the Crimson ballers play back-to-back games every Friday and Saturday night for a few weeks. Coupled with practices during the week, basketball players often have little time for anything else in the spring.

As one can imagine, these substantive time commitments sometimes have negative effects on an athlete’s academic performance, extracurricular activities, or social life. Also, in some cases, athletes just reach a point where they burn out and decide to call it quits.

Grace Bloodwell, for instance, loves Crimson softball. Always has, and probably always will. Last season, the junior History concentrator was a tri-captain for the squad that won its second straight Ivy title and finished 11-3 in the league. Despite her love of the sport and her teammates, Bloodwell quit the team over the summer, citing a desire to explore what other things Harvard has to offer.

“Softball has been the greatest part of my experience thus far,” explains Bloodwell. “But I only have two more years to have the best time of my life.”

Bloodwell, who still takes meals with and keeps close ties with former teammates, says she has enjoyed relaxing and having free time this semester. Bloodwell appreciates even something as simple as coming home from class and watching TV instead of going to batting practice.

Jen Allard, Harvard’s softball coach, regrets seeing Bloodwell go, but she understands her desire to explore new possibilities.

“[Playing softball] is not a job, and anyone can walk away for whatever reason,” Allard adds. “The pressure to keep playing for a scholarship doesn’t exist, and that helps maintain a certain purity in the sport.”

This purity, as mentioned before, exists for all of Harvard’s sports by virtue of no institutional pressures to continue playing. In fact, there are occasionally institutional restrictions that prevent one from playing. Perhaps the best example of an artificial institutional regulation that keeps certain athletes from playing involves the role of academic probation.

Unlike the NCAA, whose only academic requirement for eligibilty is “normal progress towards a degree,” Harvard College mandates that student-athletes maintain “satisfactory” grades and be in “good academic standing” as determined across the board for all students.

“Let’s just put it this way, the College has a much more restrictive view of the NCAAs ‘normal progress’ than does any other school,” says Scalise.

In other words, Harvard’s student-athletes are held to a higher standard than athletes at any other institution in the U.S. If any Harvard student receives one unsatisfactory grade, which the Ad Board considers anything below a C-, the student would be placed on academic probation. If an athlete is placed on academic probation, then he or she must stop playing altogether and in some cases take time off.

Considering the time commitment and pressures faced by Harvard’s athletes, this strict standard may seem draconian. Then again, it all goes to prove that being a student-athlete at Harvard is not as easy as most would assume.

Senior Tim Coleman’s story is particularly illuminating. Coleman, a National Honor Society member and student body president in high school, came to Harvard from the competitive basketball atmosphere of Washington state. Hailing from a region that also produced Crimson All-Ivy point guard Elliott Prasse-Freeman ’03, Coleman came to Harvard not only for its academics, but also because he was impressed by the quality of the men’s basketball program.

Arriving in the same recruiting class as Crimson legend Dan Clemente `01, Coleman received a fair amount of playing time both as a freshman and as a sophomore. Over those first two years, he averaged 2.3 points and 2.2 rebounds a game. Classes went fine and Coleman remembers enjoying the competitiveness and camraderie of the team.

“The fact that 10 other guys want the same thing on the planet is really special,” Coleman says. “Working together towards a goal in a team atmosphere is really what college basketball should be about.”

When junior year rolled around, Coleman found himself thrust into a starting role as the team’s center. Suddenly, basketball went from a big priority to an even larger one. Coleman rose to the occasion that season and put up an impressive 11.9 points and 7.6 rebounds per game.

Coleman was third on the team in scoring and helped the Crimson to a 7-7 Ivy record and a tie for third in the League. His improvement on the court was so noticable that his teammates voted him the most improved player at the end of the season.

Despite the success on the court, Coleman’s grades slipped over the course of the season. At the end of the year, the Ad Board notified Coleman that he had been placed on academic probabtion and that he would have to take a year off.

“Looking back, I would say it was just a lack of discipline,” Coleman explains. “I got lazy and maybe I did get too into athletics.”

For his mistake, Coleman paid the price of being asked to withdraw for a year and work for six months. Coleman moved back out West and worked as a programmer for an internet company in San Francisco.

Away from school and basketball, Coleman recalls how he felt that he had taken things for granted. He regretted that he had temporarily lost the balance that is essential for being a successful Harvard student-athlete.

“I basically found out the hard way where the line was,” Coleman says. “You have to realize that there is always a middle ground.”

This fall, Coleman returned to campus to start his senior year in earnest. He seems not to mind taking an extra year to graduate and looks forward to taking to the court again with his teammates when the season begins later this month.

“Going through this whole process, I have all the confidence in the world,” Coleman asserts. “I feel already like I can do anything and I will accomplish anything I set myself to.”

In practice, Coleman has to do five push-ups everytime he misses a free throw. He takes part in a drill in which he has to keep playing until he hauls in three consecutive rebounds. He is pushing himself to the limit and doesn’t receive a penny for his efforts or any fanfare from the student body.

Instead, he and other Harvard athletes keep going for the right reason. Not for scholarship money, or for recognition, or for the prospect of a career in-sport. Coleman and Harvard student-athletes play for a love of the game, and that is as pure an ideal as you will find.