Does this bother Peabody? Did Watergate bother the Democrats? Peabody, you see, is a football rarity, a "football junkie," the type of guy who, as he readily admits, "loves the game and the people who play it," who seems to get much satisfaction providing enthusiasm and cheers from the bench (and does he ever) as he would throwing a winning block.

Well, almost. "Of course I'm not thrilled about not starting," he says, "and as a senior I was hoping that I would have gotten the first shot, but (junior Bruce, the starting left tackle) McKinnon's done a fabulous job. I've resigned myself to the fact that I do the best I can, and I'll always be ready to contribute."

Regardless, though, of whether or not he ever sees game action, Bob Peabody definitely contributes. How? "I'm just really enthusiastic about it--I find my contributions to the team in that way." Or, in the words of an acquaintance, "Every team needs a Peabody."

This afternoon Peabody will practice officially for the last time. Although the number of his practice hours divided by his number of game hours forms a ratio equivalent to the odds of the New York Giants winning a game this season, he's still going to miss it.

"This is the last week of practice in my life" he says with a slight look of regret. "I'm going to miss it, maybe not next week, but I got going immediately as a freshman. That's a long time.

"Sure, it will be a nice change. I'm dying to come back and tailgate; I haven't really seen a game in the Stadium in three years."

Tomorrow against Yale, Bob Peabody, who played not at all one year, behind Danny Jiggetts the next and then only briefly as a senior, will roam the Crimson sideline for the final time. He will be the guy jumping the highest and screaming the loudest when Harvard scores. Does he have any regrets about his role? Need you ask?

* * * * *

Fred Cordova is Bob Peabody two years ago. He's a sophomore who so far has played in one game at his position, defensive cornerback. Cordova has appeared on the specialty teams, but for the most part, he, too, has had to sit and watch.

Which, for someone who has played competitive football since second grade, is not the easist thing to do. As a freshman a year ago, Cordova played offensive halfback; his decision to switch to the defensive secondary was based on his desire to play.

"I thought my chance of playing was much better," he said at breakfast the other day. "I really didn't expect to start. There were 12 guys for two positions. You have to set certain goals, and as a sophomore, the most important thing is getting recognized as a candidate to play."

But that's as a sophomore. What about next year? "With each year," Cordova explains, "your goal changes. Next year my goal is to start, and it would bother me if I didn't. You bank more on accomplishing your goal, put more into it. I'll come back next year a lot more prepared, ready to fight back. I don't consider the idea of not starting as an alternative, because you can't think negatively. It's a strike against you from the start."

For Cordova, the first, foremost and only thing is to play. "Everyone's personal desires and motivations are different," he says. "Mine are to play."

Cordova really doesn't feel like a part of this year's team. Sure, he practiced with it, and in that sense helped the starting players to improve, but as he says, "I feel a little distant. I don't feel any credit for what's going on. My effect has been indirect. I feel more responsible for a loss than happy for a victory."

Two years from now, for all anyone knows, Fred Cordova could be the 1978 version of Bill Emper. Or, he could still be on the bench. One second thought, though, Fred Cordova doesn't talk like the type who will spend too much longer on the bench. He is different than Bob Peabody, and if you don't find Cordova on the field in the next year or two, you probably won't find him on the bench, either.