The zamboni of the mind is now at work. The magic machine that sweeps away the refuse of what's transpired and lays clear the glassy sparkle of what's to ensue now attempts to construct a state of Harvard hockey that is positive and justified.

It can't.

It can't and it won't because Harvard hockey now finds itself beyond propaganda and beyond excuses about referees and scheduling. After a season in which the squad suffered its lowest winning percentage (.296) since 1940-41 and the most losses in history, "We'll get 'em next year!" has taken the form of a punchline, not an exhortation.

The 1978-79 edition of Harvard hockey came into the season hungry, talented, and rink-less. Fifteen lettermen returned, all of whom had tasted the bitterness of the winter before, when the icemen missed the ECAC playoffs for the second year in a row and underwent their first losing season in 11 years.

The kids came, too. Seven freshmen, the most coach Billy Cleary had carried in four years of first-year eligibility, grabbed spots on the big club. We were told that Burke was the gunner, Olson the hitter, Watson the digger, Lau the stopper, while Cleary told more than one person that the crop of Crimson rookies was the best he's ever seen.

The Brothers Hughes were there, cool and glory-bound, and veterans Jim Trainor and Gene Purdy. You wondered if the sophomores could put it all together, and if Randy Millen would indeed "trade two years of potential for one year of production."

On paper this seemed without question one of the top seven or eight teams in Division One, a fact reinforced throughout the season by the respect opposing coaches had for the Crimson.

So what happened?

The most tangible place to start would be the loss of home ice. The problem here was not one of small crowds and no section 18, but of practice time. The icemen were forced to work out at haphazard hours of the day amd at multiple sites. What resulted from the catch-as-catch-can training was chaotic cohesion and execution during games.

Vagabonds are usually lonely and unappreciated. Time warps their intensity, saps their purpose. So time and the course of the season slowly robbed the emotion and the fight from the guys who were always on the move, who used travel bags for lockers, who always had to pull their goalie at the end of the game.

Consider the life of the vagabond and you'll realize that the Harvard hockey season, as those of us who can find the way to Arlington and Charlestown know it, ended on December 27.

Before then there had been hope and some strong play. Goaltender Wade Lau was untouchable in the 5-2 win over Providence on November 29. A questionable hooking call had negated an inspiring comeback at RPI on November 25. George Hughes had four goals in the second period of the 8-4 win over New Hampshire on December 12. Mike Watson copped a hat-trick in the 9-5 thumping of Notre Dame 11 days later.

After losing two games out in Minnesota (the 5-4 loss to Minnesota-Minneapolis on the 27th being the last display of objectively competitive hockey as we know it), Harvard found itself with five important Division One games in January and a chance to turn around its uncharacteristically dismal 2-5 ECAC start.

It was around this time when you started to notice how much ice time Jack Hughes was getting and how he was forced to play more than one position at the same time to cover up for the team's defensive madequacies. You began to notice that it wasn't just first game jitters that made Lau susceptible to long shots. And you couldn't understand why the hell a natural center like George Hughes was playing wing.

Soon it was only January 6 and though the Crimson was still mathematically in the race for the playoffs, the 7-3 "home" loss to Brown that afternoon brought the icemen face to face with the grim fact that they were indeed vagabonds and that the promise of autumn would be dispatched by the reality of winter.