You are Harvard football Coach Joe Restic. It is early September, a few days before the start of the 1987 football season, and you are worried.

You have a team that went 3-7 last year, the most losses in the 16 years you have been at Harvard, the most losses for a Crimson squad since 1950.

Now a new season approaches, and things don't look much better. You have no kicking game to speak of. Sure you have some guys who can tee the ball up, but can they kick it through the uprights?

You have no returning receivers who caught more than six passes last year. You have a fine junior quarterback, Tom Yohe, but who's he going to throw the ball to?

You have no returning starters at running back or linebacker. Your best running back, Rufus Jones, hasn't played for almost two years with knee injury. You don't know when--or if--he will return.

You turn, and gaze at the first part of the schedule which lies on your desk:

Sept. 10 Brown (scrimmage)

Sept. 19 at Columbia

Sept. 26 Northeastern

Oct. 3 Bucknell

Oct. 10 at Cornell

You lean back, and close your eyes. You dream about what that part of your schedule might be like.

In your vision, the Crimson has a nice little tune-up against Brown. Your team scores a lot of points, their team doesn't score any. All your players get to play. None of them get injured.

Then you roll into New York City. The Pussycat Lions haven't won in God knows how long. They certainly don't against you. Harvard rolls to an easy victory--so easy, probably, that Columbia doesn't even score against you. You roll out of New York at 1-0.

Northeastern comes to visit. The bruisers from the other side of town are bigger than you, faster, stronger, able to leap buildings with a single bound. They are also favored. But your Crimson is up to it. Harvard fights and claws its way to victory. Last year's Beanpot defeat of your good friend Billy Cleary is avenged. You're 2-0.