The crowd responded readily, the way crowds do when they've been taught that blind enthusiasm is necessary.

They reacted the same way when the cheerleading corps pranced out at halftime.

Rah.

Relevant choice of music, I thought, as the cheerleaders gyrated to the strains of "Conga" by Miami Sound Machine.

Music by a machine?

Emotion by rote.

Not that I was completely stranded in a bed of fascism, but I've never been one for large doses of militaristic enthusiasm.

Even the guy in the bear outfit, walking around the court perimeter trailed by all the little kids in the "Bear Cub Club" reminded me of nothing so much as the Pied Piper.

Watch out, kids.

And while the pageant went on, so did the basketball game.

Basketball game?

Well, something like that, although Cornell was systematically slaughtering Harvard by the largest margin in 200 years, or something.

And midway through the second half, Crimson Coach Pete Roby dipped into his bench and inserted Carmen Scarpa, the 5-ft., 6-in. senior guard who had made the team as a junior.

Who had never scored a point in collegiate ball.

"New York," shouted Scarpa from midcourt, telling the rest of the squad which play was running.