Not that he thinks of it as red. To Cleary, every shade from maroon to magenta has one name, and that's crimson.

Billy Cleary loves Harvard. He loved it as an undergraduate, loved it so much he came back to finish his education after he left after junior year for two international experiences, the Olympics and the army. Other coaches sell their schools when they recruit. Not Cleary. He asks them: "Would you be happy at Harvard if you never played a game of hockey?" If the answer is no, Cleary says, he doesn't want them no matter how many goals they scored at Belmont Hill. "You've got to have a love for the place."

But what he really loves is taking a bunch of these kids who are "well-rounded, not just jocks," and challenging the big boys.

"That's the fun of it here," he says with a tenacious grin, mentally leaping into the fray, "these kids can do other things, but we go in there and play the best. We're competing with these guys and we don't take a back seat--we play them all.

"Hey, we're not gonna run away from anyone either. You have to play the best to find out how good you are."

Finding out how good you are is almost an obsession with Billy Cleary. On or off the ice, the closest he has to a credo is this: go all out.

"No matter what you do in life you should try to be the best. I don't care if it's hockey or Ec 10," he continued, "always try to be the best. That doesn't mean you always have to be the best, but you should strive for it.'

And if he can combine that striving with education, Cleary is positively ecstatic. Like his idea for more international competition on the college level. "Wouldn't it be great for the kids to go to Europe for Christmas or something?" he asks. "And they wouldn't go out to some bar every night and drink beer. We'd make it an educational experience."

He tells a-story about the Czech army team that visited the U.S. in January, 1973. Although a game with Cornell, a perennial Division One powerhouse, was scheduled for Wednesday, Cleary let his team play the touring Czechs two days earlier, the only available date. The Crimson tied the squad, 4-4, in a rough, physical contest, and then--you gussed it--lost to Cornell two days later, 5-2.

"And I'm sure it was the fatigue, too," Cleary says. "But, I wouldn't trade the tie with Czechoslovakia for anything--the kids'11 remember that their whole lives."

As a player and a coach, Cleary has compiled a list of many memories, like most people involved with hockey. But unlike many, he claims not to live vicariously through his players. "My day is over--I don't get any satisfaction myself from the wins and losses." he says. "I just see these kids work so hard that when they don't win, it kills me for their sake."

But when they do win, Billy Cleary turns red