It is indeed an honor to be asked to write a guest piece for The Harvard Crimson. And not inappropriate, I might add. As a former Harvard goaltender, I have always felt a certain bond with the Crimson writer. Both the Harvard goalie and the Crimson writer work long and hard to master their craft. And both the Harvard goalie and the Crimson writer take a great deal of verbal abuse for their efforts. The only difference that I can see is that the Harvard goalie usually doesn't deserve the abuse.

I approach my typewriter somewhat tentatively as my last contribution to The Crimson was as guest selector for the first week of the football season. My predictions weren't even close, a sorry attempt matched only by the efforts of Bill Scheft. That should come as no surprise to anyone who remembers that Scheft once predicted that the MacLean Stevenson Show couldn't miss.

And so, to address the matter at hand. One might logically ask who am I to be writing in The Crimson? Who cares what I have to say? Well, this hasn't stopped the rest of the staff here. So I proceed.

In the past nine years, I have been applicant to, student in, alumnus of and coach and employee for Harvard University. I have seen, endured, and of course, missed a great deal in this period. And rather than selfishly keep all to myself, I am sharing some of the meaningful moments with you in a sort of athletic history of the recent past. As a Harvard graduate who majored in history, this is the first and most likely the last time I'll ever do anything related to history in my life. Let me begin.

(Note: the ten experiences that the author relates are his own yet common to many who have experienced the Harvard athletic scene in the last decade.)

1. Loss of Innocence, I: The IAB

September 28, 1969. As a high school senior, they told me all about the greatness of Harvard athletics. The first college sporting event was a Harvard crew race. "Athletics for All." Winning traditions. Famous athletes and coaches. I heard it all. But no one ever talked about the Indoor Athletic Building. Today I saw it. The IAB. Surely, someone is kidding me. This must be the annex to Cambridge High and Latin. It is bad enough that this building exists. It is worse that I am inside it. It is appalling that I am here to take something called a swimming test. (Note: in 1969, freshman had to take their swimming tests sans bathing suits, adding to the dignity of the experience.) No one ever talks about this place. Not even the basketball coaches. Particularly the basketball coaches.

2. Personalities

September 1969. Today I met Albie. Albie is the curious fellow who roams Soldiers Field, spouting such phrases as. "Go home, go home, no game today, no game." There is something strangely entertaining about watching Albie direct some crusty alumnus to a proper parking space and watching the alumnus try to reason with him. As I saw Albie for the first time, former baseball coach Loyal Park grabbed my arm and said. "Hey, see that fella over there. That's what happens when you coach here too long." (That's not the only thing that happens. Big Guy.)

3. Loss of Innocence II: Academia

January 21, 1970. Today I saw my first "Boats" final. Eighteen questions, choose four. If I remember correctly, question 7 asked you to spell Magellan correctly. I wondered why the class list of "Gas Stations" was identical to the eligibility list for the varsity football team. And yes, walking into Memorial Hall for Paul Freund's no longer given "Legal Process" (believe me, a gem), I looked around and actually thought I had walked into Dillon Field House by mistake. As athletes often quoted about the work load at Harvard, we like to think of ourselves as directly responsible for the Core Curriculum proposals.

4. The Socially Conscious Athlete

March 2, 1970. Tonight, a group allegedly from the SDS (that's Students for a Democratic Society, for those of you who are really younger than I want to believe) allegedly set out to allegedly burn down Shannon Hall, the building that housed Harvard's ROTC program. But they were denied free access to the building when campus police aided by Minutemen-like freshman athletes blocked their path. Said the Boston Herald: "The marchers were denied when they confronted a group of freshmen jocks." The aforementioned "jocks" were a group of freshmen who for the most part had been watching the Bruins/Flyers hockey game on TV 38 and were summoned by a would-be Paul Revere who went from dorm to dorm in the Yard screaming of Shannon's impending doom. Out of nothing more ideological than terminal boredom, the masses were so aroused. So much for social consciousness.

5. The Athlete As Problem Solver

November 3, 1970. I spent two and a half hours tonight trying to figure out how to apply for tickets to the Yale football game. (Note: that's how a sophomore talks: "the Yale football game." Later, after purchasing my first chamois shirt from L.L. Bean's and generally getting "with it," I too learned to call it The Game.)