Early this Fall, I walked into a former adversary, Larry Cetrulo, the All American co-captain of the fencing team. We exchanged preliminary greetings and the discussion turned to fencing. "Say, Garay," he started, "the fencing team is eager for ink. We're going to be great this year, and we want the coverage."

"Sure Larry, you guys are going to be great. I can see it now- champions of the world," I said, remembering that Larry had nearly sliced my head off in a bout last year, and probably was carrying a saber under his coat.

Larry sort of shook his head, and took off. I didn't see him again until this past Monday when I ran into him in the IAB. "We're going to be great, and the people know it. We had an overflow crowd for Saturday's match, and it was only Southeastern. Wait till we compete against the big teams, the place will be crawling with people," he said.

Co-captain Mickey Irvings agreed. "And we're going to do it without the rah-rah spirit. It is a pleasure to fence, and we don't have to scream at other team members to get them motivated. They are motivated, and besides no amount of creaming is going to help anybody," he said.

Each member of the team is motivated by different desires, and it shows in their fencing style. Cetrulo wants to "bring the sport to its knees." So when he goes on the strip, he is only thinking of a quick and powerful victory. All-American foiler Tom Keller, on the other hand, floats onto the strip as a spiritualist. Unlike most fencers, Keller does not prepare for a match by using calisthenics; he does Hatha yoga postures. "They loosen me up, and calm me down. I want to eliminate all distractions before I walk out on the strip. I also float and dance because I'm a vegetarian, and I don't feel as sluggish," Keller said.

Rick Tolbert, called the African Prince by some of his teammates and seen as a fertility symbol by others, is motivated by other forces. "It gives me great satisfaction to master one of the last vestiges of European civilization. People say that I don't get motivated enough for a match, not enough psyche. But I do. All my excitement comes out of the tip of my sword," Tolbert said.

Terry Valenzuela wants to work his way up to War Lord of Mars. "When I was young, I read about Edgar Rice Burroughs' character, John Carter, and his power as War Lord of Mars. He used sorcery and swords. I am beginning my rise by using the saber," Valenzuela said.

Although Valenzuela denies that he is a sorcerer, the Cornell fencing coach may be thinking otherwise. In last year's match against the Big Red, Valenzuela mesmerized the Cornell bench. Calmly drinking a glass of water, he walked up to the scorer's table. After Valenzuela finished the water, he ate the glass itself and walked away. The Cornell coach started screaming, and called the Crimson foilers barbarians. "Hell, I didn't eat the glass," Valenzuela said Monday. "I spat the glass out later, but the Cornell coach never saw me doing that."

Fencing has been called an athletic game of chess, and like chess it can be mastered in many ways. The Crimson fencing team proves that. Against CCNY this Saturday afternoon, they will try to prove that they are the masters of the college circuit.