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Fellow Harvard undergraduate, what I’m about to tell you may not be the first thing on your mind right now. In all likelihood, you’re sitting in some dining hall, worrying about things like final exams, the split presidency of the Undergraduate Council, how Ryan is going out with Seth’s half-aunt, and whether arson would be a good way to “prank” the Yale Bowl in 2005.
But on behalf of this year’s graduating class, I’ve taken the liberty of knocking at least one item off your to-do list: the selection of this year’s Class Day Speaker.
Sure, I’m not on the Class Day Committee. And I’m technically not in the Class of 2005. Admittedly, I don’t even have any idea what your theoretical to-do list really looks like, or if you even have one. It was a metaphor.
But ever since frightening rumors circulated that Ellen DeGeneres would be taking the stage of Tercentary Theater in June—she will actually speak at the Law School’s Commencement, not the College’s—I have put much thought into who this year’s highly anticipated speaker ought to be.
And after a month of deep meditation, I urge you to join me in welcoming Ron Artest as Harvard’s Class Day Speaker in 2005.
To be fair, let us first consider the scant negatives of my proposal.
First, Artest has been banned from playing in any of the remaining games in the NBA season for what ultimately amounts to being a “horrible embarrassment” to his occupation. Touché.
Yes, after having a cup of beer thrown on him while he was inexplicably lying atop the scorers’ table during an in-game skirmish, he flew into the stands and proceeded to carry out a sequence of events that will now be forever known as “Pulling a Ron Artest.” In one fell swoop, he proceeded to pummel a succession of drunken, painfully unathletic fans—a skinny guy and a fat guy, in fact—as an entire crowd of Motor City hooligans descended upon him.
And while making the rounds of news shows to sorrowfully reflect upon his actions, he did seem more interested in promoting his music label, “Truwarier Records,” than reconciling with the crying children whom his crazy, possessed glare apparently frightened.
To this I say: So what? Since when did Class Day Speakers have to be, well, Austin Croshere?
A few of the most recent notable characters the senior class has invited over the past decade include Ali G, Will Ferrell, Al Franken ’73, Bono, and Conan O’Brien ’85.
I think it says something when any list claims Bono as the person with the most gravitas.
In fact, having personally witnessed Ali G’s speech last year on that sweltering June day in Cambridge, I think we can literally say that “morality” or “not frightening parents and relatives in the audience” or “not saying the word ‘poonani’” can be safely thrown out the window.
And there’s a precedent here, too. Baseball mega-legend Hank Aaron was the 1995 Class Day speaker, and it’s high time we get another sports great to speak at Harvard. “Ron-Ron” is one of the elite defensive stoppers in the game of basketball, and someone who also has a genuinely fascinating story to tell as he grew up on the wrong side of the tracks in New York City.
Now, am I equating Hank Aaron, one of the classiest acts in professional sports, with Ron Artest? Well, let’s just say that Artest was charged with just one count of assault and battery on Wednesday night—a misdemeanor that carries, at maximum, three months of jail-time and a $500 fine. I think we can say that Lady Justice agrees with me.
Did I mention that Artest was a mathematics major at St. John’s before he left early as a sophomore for the NBA Draft? That he sponsors basketball tournaments in the Queensbridge neighborhood where he grew up four times a year? That he was coached by former Harvard assistant Mike Jarvis at St. John’s? And that his nickname is “Pakman”?
In the end, fellow Harvard students, I think you now know what you need to know.
So riddle me this: Do you want a speaker who will make you laugh? Or do you want one of the best players in the NBA—who may or may not have a criminal record at that point—alternately amusing and threatening your family members with visions of going fists-first into the crowd?
Welcome to Cambridge, bitch.
—Staff writer Pablo S. Torre can be reached at torre@fas. His column appears on alternate Fridays.
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