Gone are Harvard's halcyon days, the good and graceful times when its football teams were weak and its joys unathletic. For the tentacles of the Harvard Athletic Association have searched out high school material on which it is glutting itself, and growing. And with the passing of the losing team has come the University's loss of independence from the beak and encroaching paws of the Leviathan H.A.A.

The Association began its scheme to overwhelm Harvard three years ago with its decision to replace the traditionally fragile wooden goalposts with ultramodern (and indestructible) steel ones. Finding that students remained docile in spite of this insidious innovation, the haamonsters handed down an even more radical dictum--NO ALCOHOL IN THE STANDS. This, in itself, was enough to drive droves away from the Stadium, but a tenacious few (who had flasks) grimly went on getting tickets.

Even these stalwarts, however, are being strangled by the latest menace, death by brown envelope. Last year, writhing in obvious self-satisfaction, the subtle creature unveiled this unfathomable invention, which succeeded in throwing the ticket-buying proletariate into complete confusion. Lately, however, a few of the more crafty have begun to understand the intricacies of the system, causing the Association to hide envelopes. In defense of this action the H.A.A. cites its recent (unwilling) concession to the downtrodden, its belated permission for WHRB to broadcast football games. Everyone knows, however, that this is merely a delaying tactic. Midway through the season as the heard sit in their cups, quietly listening to the game, a rapacious snarl will interrupt their befogged meditations, and a glib WHRB will broadcast no more.

The H.A.A. now revels in its unchecked sway, but a day of reckoning shall come. For a breed of Harvardmen will grow up, never having tasted that curious elixir--the blend of fall air, football, and good scotch. When the new alumnus gets slowly soused of a Saturday afternoon, he will care not one whit whether Crimson is in triumph flashing. As interested alumni gradually become extinct, the Harvard farm system will dwindle. Within a decade the Red Beast will again be no more than a small pink rodent.