It was a best-of-three hockey playoff series between Harvard and some other team (they all blend in after my three seasons of spectating). The first night, Harvard won the game, but not after opposing fans threw things onto the ice on two separate occasions.

After an early goal by the visitors, a cascade of tennis balls flew out of the opposing fans' section like a ball-serving machine gone wacko.

Then one of our guys got a pair of goals. So in anticipation of a third, a box of painter's caps made their way to Section 13.

When the hat trick was completed, hats floated onto the ice as gracefully as autumn leaves.

But the ref was at the booth, charging Harvard's fans with a delay of game penalty.

Though the hats came from two sections over, I took it as a slight on the entire student section. We won the first game, but I was highly angered by the apparent double standard: penalize the home team, not the visitor.

On Saturday we were in the lead when one of my roommates from freshman year was passing tennis balls around to the fans in my section to throw on the ice at the earliest possible opportunity.

I balked. We did not have a big lead and could not afford another delay of game penalty. We risked losing a man to the penalty box and losing momentum to the opposing team.

But then we got a goal late in the third period. In a moment of temoprary insanity (or was it inanity?) I took the tennis ball out of my pocket and threw it hard.

The ball ricoched off the goalie's head as he was sitting in the crease.

It was a perfect shot.

But the guy looked up and scouted the stands for an offender.

He was staring straight at me.

He pushed the goal off the magnets and used it to climb the plexiglass.

He made his way through the fans to my seat and started hitting me.