SENIOR SPOTLIGHT: Noah Welch

Noah Welch spoke quietly to the media this season, saying the things that a representative of the Harvard men’s hockey team should say. He assumed the role of Crimson captain and ambassador with ease, rarely at a loss for words in the face of a pointed question and never afraid to blame his team, his defense, or even himself when the situation called for it.

But that was the side of Welch the media saw—the poised, suit-wearing, press-conference Welch who fielded queries after every win, loss, and tie. The Welch who smiled, even when asked why his team had lost in the first round of the last three NCAA tournaments, even when asked about his team’s ever-growing streak of Beanpot losses.

“I love it, to be honest with you,” Welch admitted one day in January. “I think it’s special to get to talk to the media, and I love it.

“I love the attention, and being captain, and leading the group of guys that I do—it’s a pretty easy job, and it’s a good job.”

Of course, there was another side to Welch to which the press was rarely privy, and only when the captain’s silver tongue seemed to slip did the public get a glimpse of what was really driving the Crimson through this year’s 21-win season.

After losing one contest and then barely winning the second in the North Country just after Thanksgiving, Welch spoke to the reporters who had gathered outside the visitor’s locker room before donning his suit.

He was tired, he was leaning against the wall, and he was “pissed at this road trip.”

Perhaps not the words and actions of a typical, groomed-for-the-media captain—but every once in a while, this season’s situations called for atypical reactions.

The Crimson had played only nine games when Welch announced he was pissed, but the loss to St. Lawrence and the near-collapse to Clarkson jeopardized Harvard’s momentum, which had just begun to blossom with recent wins over No. 1 Boston College and No. 10 Boston University.

Thus, Welch was pissed. He was pissed that his team “got outworked” and “didn’t really show up,” and he wasn’t afraid to tell anybody who would listen.

And what happened next? Harvard won four straight games, manhandling No. 10 Vermont and No. 11 Maine with the efficiency and purpose of a team possessed.

After those games, Welch smiled and answered questions proudly, praising his goaltender, his defense, and the resolution of his squad.

He had planted the seed, after all, but his team had done the work.

It was more of the same in late January, when questions surfaced regarding Harvard’s post-exam track record, a woeful 2-8-2 over the last six years. Welch was more than ready to share his feelings on the matter.

“When [Crimson coach Ted Donato ’91] brought that statistic up to us,” he said, “we were all kind of pissed, like ‘there’s no way we’re going to be a part of that.’”

Lo and behold, Harvard went 4-0 out of the break, scoring 22 goals and holding the opposition to just five.

Pissed, indeed.

Welch was frank with the media when he had to be, and he broke the stoic captain’s mold when the situation demanded it. But though a veteran of the interview room from his four-year career with the Crimson, Welch found himself facing a new brand of inquiry this season.

All of a sudden, the questions weren’t about Welch, the two-time All-American blueliner.

Welch’s 18 points marked the lowest total since his freshman year—all six of his goals came on the power play—and since gritty, physical, defensive play never grabbed any headlines, the captain spent most of his time extolling goaltender Dov Grumet-Morris’ sensational season and Harvard’s potential.

The limelight was no longer on Welch, and he couldn’t have cared less.

“If anything,” he mused, “Dov becoming a Hobey Baker finalist put more attention on our team.”

And that’s what Welch spent the season talking to reporters about, anyhow: the team.

It was a different, more subdued role for the senior, but he filled it gladly, night after night in front of reporters, making eye contact after every question and answering each as politely as he could.

Of course, there was another side to the blueliner—the hard-nosed, do-what-it-takes captain who never hesitated to light a fire under his squad—but that surfaced only rarely during interviews.

And even then, if you looked hard enough in the senior’s eyes, you could see that Welch knew exactly what he was doing.

—Staff writer Rebecca A. Seesel can be reached at seesel@fas.harvard.edu.