My First Time... Out On the Road

It is a well known fact that road trips bring sports teams together. But they also bring beat teams together.

This past weekend, the men’s basketball team travelled to Ithaca, New York and New York City to square off against league foes while we—men’s hoops writers Timothy J. Walsh, Dennis Zheng, and myself–sojourned with them.

And while the Crimson basketball team suffered two defeats, we experienced the lavish lifestyle of the road.

Well, sort of.

Cruising to the tunes of T. Pain, Lil’ Wayne and the Goo Goo Dolls, our bro-some hauled over 780 miles through five states.

However, highlights from the trip would extend well beyond basketball games and the song “Mrs. Officer.”

Our first stop was the sprawling campus of Cornell in Ithaca, New York.

Consider driving to Cornell if you can picture yourself in a Steven King novel, or alternatively, are in the market to buy a mobile home. Some towns to look into include the Village of Greene and the Town of Triangle.

A little known fact: the Finger Lakes were originally settled by representatives from Playskool.

Friday the 13th saw a substantial loss for the Crimson at the hands of the Big Red.

For us, it also meant a serious loss of faith in the quality of Cornell fandom. When it came to the student body’s support of their dominant team, it was quantity over quality.

The best cheers and jeers the “Red Zone” could muster was “Put on a tie Amaker” and “You have skinny legs” (a jab aimed at freshman guard Max Kenyi). I felt like I was at a no-name D-III school that prides itself on its communications program and ample parking space. Following another uninspired Amaker joust later in the game, I heard some of the fans behind me ask who Coach K was. Then I just felt like leaving.

Following the crushing 96-75 loss, we sought to forget our (unbiased) woes over a quality meal. Strolling through college town, we opted for Italian and found a hole in the wall establishment simply named “Pizza.” Simple is good, right? Wrong.

Twenty minutes into the wait for our food, we looked on as a crowd of scantily clad women enthusiastically exited a tiny bathroom; one of them approached a man behind the counter, who pulled out a letter from inside his shirt and gave it to the smiling female. Suspecting that “Pizza” actually stood for something else, Tim and I hastily reconsidered ordering “hero” sandwiches.

After surviving the night in Ithaca, we piled back in the car and plotted a course for Columbia University. New York City on Valentine’s Day proved to be slightly more appealing than the frigid slopes of Cornell. Call me a romantic, but I just can’t help but cherish NYC over a place that celebrates Agricultural Science majors.

If you were concerned, the Hallmark-contrived holiday was far from lost for our traveling trio–dreamy happenings filled the day. We walked through a beautiful campus, watched a great show from front row seats and ate at a quaint restaurant in the city.

Just for the record, we’re still just friends; that’s all.

Continuing the trend of Italian food, we stopped by a nominally less questionable pizzeria that actually had a real name several blocks away from Columbia. There would be no illicit cover-ups here, just pizza that put Noch’s to shame. Although the featured item was “jumbo” slices that were bigger and most likely tastier than Dennis’ face, Tim and I opted for a large pie and never looked back.

Much like our dining experiences throughout the weekend, the game against the Lions was intense. After leading by as much as 10 in the second half, Harvard hit an offensive speed bump down the line and looked on as the Lions claimed a one point victory in the final five seconds of the game.

And you thought you had a bad Valentine’s Day…

We had hoped for a split, but in the end there were no split feelings about the trip. Regardless of wins or loses, the retreat provided an excellent way to get to know the team, each other, and all the meanings of the word “pizza.” Perhaps the radio exemplified our growth the most. What began as the faint, nervous humming of song lyrics on the way to Cornell progressed into a full out karaoke fest in Tim’s car by Saturday night.

All things considered, the retreat represented the birth of a unified beat team willing to cover a team’s road games regardless of the quality of play, pizza or pop music. And there’s no question that we enjoyed it. Next year we might just head all the way to Penn and Princeton.

—Staff writer Emmett Kistler can be reached at ekistler@fas.harvard.edu.