"What's it all mean, Mr. Natural?" "Don't mean shit, boy."--Zap Comix

FOR ALL the Harvard Mr. Naturals who have sat through two unfruitful years of Resticball, the dialogue above is becoming increasingly significant. After all, when Joe Restic succeeded John Yovicsin as head football coach, the event was heralded as an innovative rain after the 14-year drought of Yovvy's straight-laced and conservative football style.

Restic, fresh from a sojourn in the wide-open Canadian Football League and blessed (as one writer reported at the time) with "the most brilliant football mind in North America," was billed as the gridiron messiah to lead Harvard out of the intercollegiate wilderness.

After 14 years of Yoovy's "sweep-left-sweep-right-dive" philosophy, Restic, lover of the multiple set and the man in motion, was going to provide just the right transfusion to cure Harvard's anemic football tradition. Why, Restic even promised that his teams would throw the football, a radical departure from the conservative Yovicsin regime in which the only passes at Harvard games were the ones gallantly offered by the band's drumbearers to visiting cheerleaders. No doubt about it, Harvard fans enthused, Joe Restic was going to bring something innovative and wonderful to Harvard Stadium.

Well, two years have come and gone, and the Mr. Naturals who will endure anything, from September rainstorms to November snow flurries to cement seats, in order to watch the Crimson's football pugilists, are becoming impatient. More and more of them are wondering "just what does Resticball mean?"

Certainly the Crimson coach has introduced theories which Harvard football fans have never seen. The gridiron Puritanism that characterized Yovicsin's football philosophy has been transformed into a wild athletic gadabout. Shifts, multiple sets, motion, passes, reverses, along with a host of other different--and sometimes unorthodox--techniques, have become part of the Harvard football vocabulary.

But while this transformation has taken place and subconsciously pricked the fancy of the entire Boston football audience, promises of a gridiron renaissance under Restic's tutelage have remained largely unfulfilled in his first two years. While Resticball at Harvard has opened the eyes of the entire New England and Ivy League football audience with its dashing ingenuity, one significant element has been missing--Restic teams have not won as most people believed they should.

The sophomore-laden squad that sent Yovicsin into a happy "retirement" with an impressive 7-2 record in 1970 languished around the .500 mark during Restic's first two seasons, finishing 5-4 the first year, and following with a 4-4-1 mark (4-3 and 3-3-1, respectively, in the Ivy League).

Causes for the Crimson's so-so performance in 1971-1972 have been traced to a wide variety of elements, ranging from injuries to charges of racism. But these reasons notwithstanding, the most persistent argument regarding the Crimson's meager showing is that Restic's technique tries to do too much in too little time.

With the formidable restrictions imposed by Ivy League rules--no spring practice, late pre-season, limited recruiting--an Ivy coach works at a distinct disadvantage before he even begins. With these limitations, so the argument goes, a system as complex as Restic's cannot hope to reach full fruition.

The lackluster records of the last two years seem to support this line of reasoning, at least to a degree. Only once, in the 1971 Yale game, has Resticball achieved optimum performance over four quarters of football. And while other important factors have contributed to two consecutive break-even seasons for Harvard, notably injuries and a paralyzing lack of depth, evidence is accumulating against Resticball as a viable Ivy League approach.

What does all this mean? It's unfair perhaps to judge a coach's performance on the basis of his first two years. Most people agree that a college coach cannot be evaluated completely until his entire program is manned with athletes who have come up through the system--until four years have elapsed. Under this line of reasoning, Restic, who has been top dog in the Harvard football kennel for just under three years, would face his first "deadline" in 1974, his fourth season as head coach.

But what about Year Three? How does this Fall's Crimson football squad fit into the four year picture? Will it be an improvement over the .536 winning percentage compiled over the last two years? Mr. Natural, what does it all mean for Harvard football in 1973?

The success of the Crimson this Fall can be summed up in one word--sophomores. Harvard lost 32 lettermen from last year's squad, including the entire starting offensive backfield, and Restic must find bodies to fill the vacancies left by graduation. Last Fall's freshman team, a team which compiled a 4-2 record, is the only place the Crimson coach has to look.

On offense, besides the loss of all four backfield starters, Harvard must find a center, a tight end and a tackle. On defense the most glaring hole is at adjuster, where the Crimson has no one returning with any experience at all. Furthermore, Restic must find a tackle, an end, a linebacker and two defensive backs to fill out his lineup card.