A little over a year ago today a new Administration, brimming with confidence and idealism first faced its Crimson foes on the gridrion. Wet behind the ears, Box Jox ran smiling in to the field. They were smashed 23-2.

Last Saturday this same unsuccessful team, frustrated on the same unsuccessful team, frustrated on the grid, the b-ball court and the diamond by the some pitiable score, and hardened by a year of the fickle cruskies which plague the world's most powerful University, decided not to show. The reason: A mild drizzle, brought on by Hurricane Anne, had dampened the sod of Soldiers Field.

Lacking sufficient courage to brave the wet turf underfoot, or to battle a Crime team undefeated in 299 consecutive games, the Jox copped out.

But The Crime could not be restrained. The intense excitement at the prospect of extending their phenomenal winning streak one game further had put the players in such an ebullient state, a veritable frenzy, that they could think no other thought than. "Play ball."

The intrepid team, led by Captain Deac "Not Meek" Dake, trouped through the downpour to their traditional battleground behind the Stadium. Arriving promptly at the ordained 9 a.m. rumble time, the Crime warriors posed for the team portrait shown above.

After three rain-soaked hours, when it became clear that the Jox had pulled a cowardly no-show, player-coach Robert "Triple" Decherd counseled the team to return to its 14 Plympton St. clubhouse.

The team was unmoved. "We refuse to accept a 23-2 forfeit," Deac proclaimed, as his cohorts began to pitch camp for what looked like a long stay.

Decherd and a few sneezing team-mates, expecting the remaining troops to follow suit, left the field to return to 14 Plympton St., where the team puts out breakfast table dailies between games.

Meanwhile, in back of the Stadium, the rain-soaked never-say-dies settled in. Day became night and night day, as the unforgiving Crime gridmen reposed in what dry spots they could find between the puddies and under the trees.

Concerned that the remaining staff was too small to provide the University with all the news, Decherd returned to the Stadium, and began an elaborate ritual, beseeching his teammates to forgive and forget. "Deacon," he yelied across the grid through a makeshift bullhorn rolled out of Saturday's issue. "How are we going to fill the sports page?"

Desc remained impassive. The conflict seemed irresoivable, but late reports indicate that Dake will agree to withdraw from the Stadium and return to the sports cube if the Jox agree to a face-off next Sunday at 10 a.m.

At press time last night, however, Captain Dake and a few muddied diehards remained firmly entrenched in their Soldiers Field citadel, and betrayed no sign of an impending retrest.