The Providence Civic Center was a mecca for hordes of hockey faithful Saturday night, a Green and White and Crimson haven for fans wallowing in the promise and magic of a national title.

The 1986 NCAA championship game: the end of the road for the country's top two hockey squads, and the chance for 9214 inspired partisans to whoop it up.

Where else would Harvard President Derek C. Bok and a beer-besotted Michigan St. booster identified only as Ponzie forget their differences and join ranks--simply to cheer?

Sporting a bright green MSU t-shirt, Ponzie was overflowing with good spirits. "I just want to wish all my Harvard brothers and sisters well," he gushed. "But we're still going to beat you."

And the essence of the hockey mania wasn't lost on Bok, a devoted basketball fan who admittedly didn't "understand the fine points of hockey," but nonetheless cheered on his pucksters from a seat in section 212. "I do know that when the red light goes on in front of [Michigan St.'s] goal, I yell," the distinguished spectator confessed.

For most fans, the elements of competition--the shouting, the suspense, even the injuries--are always there, to be savored or suffered. But sometimes, one or two fans cross the realm of observation into participation.

Take the case of Harvard Coach Bill Cleary's secret goodluck charm, his mother, Helen. When the 78-year-old skipped the ECAC playoffs earlier in the month, Clarkson upset the Crimson, 4-2.

Not so eager for another defeat, Coach Cleary insisted on his mom's presence at the NCAAs. But Mother Cleary tripped outside the Civic Center prior to Friday night's semifinal against Denver and had to be stitched up before the opening face-off.

"So many times, it's been the other way around," Coach Cleary said, recalling boyhood days as he waited anxiously outside the trainer's room for his mother to emerge. But come Saturday, the elder Cleary was back in the stands, and the pageant rolled on.

The 2500 Spartan fans, like Dave Borgman, were easy to pick out in the crowd, since most sported at least one item of bright green clothing. A Lansing, Mich., native who claims to have attended every State hockey contest for the past decade, Borgman was resplendent in a Viking-style helmet and Spartan hockey shirt. Green-dyed buffalo fur lined the top of the helmet, and a green Budweiser cap dangled from one of the horns of Borgman's unusual headgear.

For recent Michigan St. grad Bob Jackson, the ultimate outfit for the occasion entailed multi-stage preparation: green hair, green clothes and green buttons. "I bought this jersey with the first paycheck I ever got from dorm work, I've gotten various buttons as presents from friends, and I did the hair and the mustache today, three hours before the game started," he said Saturday night.

The Crimson crowd--mostly returning vacationers and 50-year old alumni--was a tad more subtle. Aside from the band's maroon blazers and an occasional football jersey, Harvard garb was limited, for the most part, to scattered veritas ties and crimson vests.

But perhaps Harvard could afford to be less blatant in the color department--its problems were solved long ago, when Crimson ousted Magenta as the official school hue.

Michigan St. still has something of an identity crisis.

"Go Green," shouted half of the State contingent.

"Go White," screeched the other half.

The schizophrenic Spartans then proceeded to compound the damage, splitting into three sections to perform the "M"--"S"--"U" cheer.

To top it off, the Spartan Brass band broke into the ominous thump-thump, thump-thumping of the "Jaws" routine, much to the glee of the M's, S's and U's, who clapped their extended arms together, mimicking the Great White beast itself.

The Harvard band, meanwhile, was slightly tongue-tied about the whole occasion, but one drummer finally hinted that the group's mood was "euphoric." Band members refused further comment, choosing to Turn Japanese instead.

And as the Crimson icemen attempted to hold onto a shrinking lead, there were a lot of churning stomachs in the Harvard stands, as well.

"This is one of the most nervous types of games you could imagine," said Dean of the College L. Fred Jewett '57, who attended most games this season. "I'm just hoping things will work out over the final minutes."

Unfortunately for Harvard, things didn't.

And Steve Dines, a self-proclaimed MSU alumnus emeritus, expressed himself eloquently: "As the great Darryl Dawkins once said, `When it's all said and done, there's nothing left to do or say.' Well I say, `Woo, woo'."

Spoken like a true fan.