Drenched with sweat, the Harvard icemen clopped through the rink of Boston Garden on the way to locker room number 11, there to savor a triumph nearly without flaw. They trooped past a noisy, elation-filled melee of back-slapping, chances of "Harvard!" and clenched fists of satisfaction. They were tired, very tired, but they were also damn happy.

And none had better cause to celebrate than Tommy Murray and Ricky Benson. No college hockey player in Boston, no matter how many points he piles up, no matter how many game-winning goals he tallies against Clarkson or Colgate or St. Lawrence, feels his career is complete without at least one Beanpot. Three times, for Murray and Benson, February had come and gone. Once they had reached the finals, only to crawl before B.U.; two surprisingly competitive first-night losses supplied little solace.

This was to be their last chance. They knew it, and coach Billy Cleary knew it, too. A week ago, in the afterglow of routing Northeastern, the Crimson's leader since 1971 was asked his thoughts as he looked toward the finals.

"The thing I really want," he said, "is to see the seniors win. That Tommy Murray has worked his heart out, he's been the best captain we've ever had. No one should go through the program for four years with us and miss the experience of winning the Beanpot. It hasn't happened yet."

In that respect at least, Cleary had history on his side: Harvard eked out tournament crowns in 1974 and 1977. But few believed that when it was all over--when 15-3-3 Boston College had played 7-11 Harvard--there really would be a Harvard Band concert on the Red Line, and that Tommy Murray really would be able to sit in his own little corner of locker room 11, surrounded by cameras, microphones and well-wishers with the silver Beanpot trophy resting firmly on his lap, "probably for a while."

Yet--pinch yourself, it won't go away--it happened just like that. Murray, second in scoring on the team with eight goals and 13 assists, had a tough game. He forechecked effectively, superbly assisted Greg Olson's brilliant penalty-killing, played a solid right wing on the "Instant Karma" connection with Olson and center Mike Watson--but the puck wouldn't go in for him. "We hit the post three times in the last five minutes...when that puck went in"--Burke's clincher--"I just said, 'It's about time.'"

To Benson, who went into last night with three years of injuries and frustration to remember, who as a Needham H.S. senior had reached the finals at the Garden--and lost, it felt "super, never better, like getting laid for the first time."

And Cleary--who at the buzzer rushed on to the ice to embrace his captain first--said: "You can take everything else, but seeing those kids win is the best. That, to me, is what makes it all worth it."