This is the first of a two-part series on the Harvard basketball team. Interviews were conducted with present and former players on the team as well as with Crimson coach Bob Harrison. The articles are an attempt to analyze why the team had such a disappointing record following such a big pre-season build-up.

"What are you doing an article now for? The season's over. UCLA just won the championship. Right now I'm the golf coach," coach Bob Harrison said as I entered his office two weeks ago to discuss the 1971-72 basketball season.

Coach Harrison then explained that the reason Harvard didn't do as well as early season pollsters had predicted was simple. "We were overrated," he repeated a number of times. "Just because we had four high school All-Americans doesn't mean we're going to be national champs. A lot of schools had four high school All-Americans and didn't do as well as we did," he added.

"I'm not a crybaby coach, but if that's what they (Harvard fans) want I'll be one," Harrison said. "We had a lot of injuries and I never had my whole squad together for more than two days in pre-season."

Harrison proceeded to pull out his record book and read the daily injury report. He explained that at a number of points during the season he had to rearrange his practice schedule because of injuries.

At that point, Harrison turned to me and asked. "Why don't you stress the positive? We set Harvard records for total points scored, highest average, most field goals made, most field goals attempted, and most rebounds. We averaged 85 points a game; why don't you talk about that?"

I asked him how many points the team had given up and he said they had given up 83 a game. I told him that I felt the important statistic was not the absolute number of points a team scored, but the difference between the amount scored and the amount given up. "At least we were in the positive," Harrison replied.

Harrison again began questioning me about why an article was being written. He said that he had been taking repeated criticism from people who knew nothing about the game and that he wished people who had questions about his coaching would come to him.

I asked Harrison whether he felt he had taken an unfair beating from the Boston press. Harrison said that the press on the whole had been fair, but added, "I hear a lot of things about me around here, like, 'Harrison's an idiot,' or 'Harrison's crazy,' and I just can't take it anymore. I mean I'm a broad-shouldered guy, but there's just so much a guy can take." He said that it especially bothered him that people came to games and booed him with his wife in the stands.

I said to Harrison that in any arena in the country, there will always be a few fans who yell obscenities at the coach, and I didn't see why he should worry about it. Harrison said that he guessed I was right but that it was awfully difficult to take.

"If those people have questions why don't they come to me and ask them?" he repeated.

At that point, I thought I would ask him about a move he had made in the Oral Roberts game.

But as soon as the words were out of my mouth, Harrison launched into a verbal barrage against me. "That's the problem--you're just like those people up in the stands. You don't know anything about the game and you criticize me." He explained why he thought I was wrong. I raised another question and he stood up from his chair and exclaimed. "I'm the coach here; I have been in the game for 40 years."

By this time, I was a little disturbed and was ready to make a graceful exit, but I told Harrison that all I was doing was raising the objections that had come into my mind, and that I hadn't meant to insinuate that he was wrong. Harrison relaxed somewhat and I tried to turn the conversation to a less controversial subject, this year's freshman team.

"How do I know anything about them? I didn't coach them. I don't know how they'll react to my methods or how I'll react to them. I don't coach them and if you're interested in them, ask the freshman coach," Harrison said. It struck me as strange that Harrison professed to have no knowledge of his freshman, considering he probably helped recruit some of them and most certainly has seen them play and practice. However, I didn't feel like pursuing the issue.

I turned the conversation back to the varsity and asked him about what had happened to his pre-season strategy to use a good deal of zone and man-to-man pressing. Again he replied pointedly.

"You want to see the films of the Dartmouth and Northeastern games? We pressed--I can prove it to you."

I told him that I knew the team had pressed in those games, but after them, had almost neglected it. He replied that the team simply didn't have the personnel to do it. He also explained that he didn't need the press in the last nine games of the season as the team had gone 8-1.

Harrison then proceeded to run through the schedule and rationalize each loss on the team's record. For example, he attributed the first loss to Dartmouth to injuries and illness and the first losses to Pennsylvania and Princeton to the fact that they were held right after Christmas vacation. He said the second losses to Penn and Princeton came because they were held right after exams.

"You know how Harvard kids are about exams, they don't open a book until reading period and then they stay up half the night studying." Harrison said.

After explaining the season's losses, Harrison reiterated that he doesn't criticize other people or alibi.

"Take this guy at Penn (Chuck Daly), a year ago when he was in Boston he said 'Harrison is an idiot for using (James) Brown at guard.' He goes off to Penn and uses a guy bigger than Brown at guard. But I don't call him an idiot," Harrison said.

Towards the end of the conversation, Harrison started to warm up to me and apologized for being antagonistic. He admitted he was taking out his frustrations on me, but said that with all the criticism he had been getting it had been increasingly difficult for him to discuss the basketball season without getting angry.

Before I left, I asked if he had had problems communicating with any of his players. He said that Harvard hadn't experienced any special problems in that area, but that all teams faced some sort of problem during a season. I thanked him for his time and as I left he said in a sort of meek way. "If you want to cancel this article, I really wouldn't mind."

After speaking to Harrison. I was convinced that the man had a good understanding of basketball. However, I was unsure whether he had been able to communicate it to his players. He had been so harsh when speaking to me that it seemed a reasonable assumption that he might have had problems working with his ball players. Perhaps this was at the root of the problems of the basketball team.

Part Two will appear in Thursday's Crimson.