Glory Days

It’s the cheer of the crowd, the thrill of the contest, the age-old test of skill and determination that separates men from boys.  It writes large in legend the names of those moonshine masters who can propel a little ball on a great arcing journey and bring it to rest with a soft splash in a cup of Milwaukee’s Best. In a single word, it’s Beirut, and it’s made its presence felt on the 6th floor of Quincy.

While the rest of campus wastes their time poring over novels and notebooks, the crew that gathers Thursday nights in Quincy 610 is having the sort of raucous good time one doesn’t often find within the hallowed walls of a Harvard residence. “We are gonna throw this keg against the wall!” Jeff Rossi ’05 announces over the chattering crowd and background rap music, pointing proudly to the set of jagged holes in 610’s concrete wall that served as permanent markers to the fun of past weeks. “Someone call the power plant, ‘cause I’m about to black out!”

Though the giant sign-up sheet is impressive (with space for up to 75 challengers to try their luck at the sport of kings and sultans), the twin centerpieces of magic and mayhem are two elegant Beirut tables—one marked with a large crimson H, the other sprayed with graffiti art—that dominate the room. On these pitches are heroes made.

“We’re sendin’ out a school-wide challenge—we win every game.” Yusuf Randera-Rees ’05, a tall South African with a killer hookshot, takes down challenger after challenger in quick succession. There isn’t any arrogance in his eyes, though, just the confidence of one who knows he sits at the top of his game. Babe Ruth had Yankee Stadium, George Best had Old Trafford, and Yusuf has Quincy 610.

It’s not just about drinking, of course; most of those filling Quincy 610 live in neighboring rooms, connected by fire doors or lasting friendships, and this weekly event is just one more way to get everyone together. Damien Wint ’05 says, “We just want to have fun instead of standing around at a party in the corner talking about how great our i-banking is.”

“It’s a fun place to be,” said Kyle “Bubbba Cos” Cosden ’05, sporting a brand-new mullet and aviator glasses.  Cosden isn’t the only one with excellent duds: if you didn’t know Andrew J. Serke ’05 was on Team Seersucker, his pants would certainly tip you off, and when Daniel H. Rothenberg ’05 is playing with his usual partner, they rock matching pairs of velour pants.

Why did Rothenberg, a.k.a. “da grand pumbah,” help start up this weekly contest? “Well,” he answers, “why not?” As Jason Neal ’08 says, “Thursday sucks, what else is there to do?” The tournament plays an important part in the social lives of many who come to watch Beirut masters from two continents match wit and aim. The event has evolved to epic proportions—it even has its own group on thefacebook.com—but put simply, the top-notch Beirut that goes on in 610 exists because a group of friends decided to get together around a common love. And as everyone in Quincy 610 would agree, nothing is more deserving of love and admiration than what Pele surely would have called the stupendous game: Beirut.