When some loud braggart

Tries to put me down

And sez his school is great

I tell him right away:

Now what's the matter, buddy,

Ain't you heard of my school?

It's number one in the state!

So be true to your school

Just like you would to your girl or guy... --The Beach Boys

Terry Valenzuela didn't fence when he was at Camelback High in Phoenix. He came to fencing here by accident, "I noticed a sign in the IAB which read: 'Freshman Fencing. No Experience Necessary.' Feeling uniquely qualified on that basis, I went to the first practice," he recalls.

"We all started out at foil, and after a week, coach Marion, a stately Eastern European gentleman whose accent I found unintelligible for weeks, urged me to take a little vacation from fencing, and then forget the game altogether."

But Terry didn't quit, and in a kind of Horatio Alger sports story (or is it Chip Hilton?), he went on to become one of the lynchpins of the fencing team's new success. He was also elected next year's captain on Monday, by a unanimous vote of his teammates.

In the ECAC's last weekend, by far the toughest intercollegiate match in the century, Terry won nine of twelve bouts, and narrowly missed qualifying for the finals.

In discussing the ECAC's, Terry's eyes glossed over and his voice quivered. "I couldda had class. I couldda been somebody, a contendah, steadda bein' a bum, which is what I am," he said.

But he'll get another chance next weekend in the NCAA's in Chicago, "It's my style to set traps," he said, quickly recovering. "Most people don't think when they're on the strip. They attempt to overpower their opponent." Valenzuela prefers to set up situations in which his adversary will do something entirely predictable. That's how he got his nickname: Wile E. Coyote.