Howl! Howl! Howl!

The blue wave of the Yale student section flowing over Harvard Stadium’s concrete wall, celebrating on Harvard’s own home fake grass, was the most painful moment of the day. More painful than the ball that wobbled off the foot of punter Matthew R. Schindel ’08 for a whopping five-yard gain. More painful than the imminent mid-afternoon hangover. More painful than the MIT streaker who graced our collective presence with less than a minute left in the game. (And that was painful.)

There was little to cheer on and much to bemoan. We hadn’t experienced a loss to Yale on the football field since former University President Neil L. Rudenstine ruled the roost six years ago. The brightest spot on the field Saturday was the glare from the streaker’s back side.

But while the initial shock of the defeat was stunning—a chant of “Howl! Howl! Howl!” was heard on Longfellow Bridge—a little time has provided us with much needed perspective in facing the consequences of our loss.

First, we fully expect that our loss, like Harvard’s administration, is merely an interim trend.

Second, Handsome Dan is still ugly. (He won this year, too: He wasn’t stolen by Harvard fans.)

Third, Yale was so surprised by their own victory that they had no idea how to act like winners. When the Eli cheerleaders attempted to celebrate Yale’s final touchdown, the push-ups were simply too much for many of their weary biceps. (Awkward.)

So do not fret, fellow Harvardians. This is not the beginning of our end. A little time will cure our hangover. And maybe find our passing game.