They tell me that winning the Beanpot can light up your season. If you're going nowhere fast (or nowhere slow, for that matter), the 'Pot championship can be your salvation. Even for the winning team, it's a delightful midseason plum that even the worst performance in the playoffs can't take away.

That's how the three schools on the south side of the Charles talk about the Beanpot. They also carry on about "local bragging rights."

I've never understood "local bragging rights." Maybe that's because Harvard hasn't claimed the 'Pot in my four years here. From my vantage point the phrase sounds like one that gangs fighting for the same turf might use.

As far as I know, B.C., B.U., Harvard and Northeastern players don't regularly gather for cozy barbeques or anything like that. If they did, would the three losers have to get the charcoal lighted and make sure that there were plenty of condiments for the victors?

In Cambridge, they use a different language than the Bostonians do when they talk about the 'Pot.

First, you have to get the Crimson to talk about the Hub hockey extravaganza; in the last several years, that's no easy trick. Start to mention the Beanpot and you'll catch an earful of ECAC standings, national rankings and two NCAA final appearances in five years.

Anything but the Beans.

Monday, after dropping a 5-4 overtime thriller to Northeastern--a team using cruise control to go nowhere fast--the Harvard team had to share its thoughts on its experiences in the 'Pot o' Misery.

The Crimson players weren't talking about winning the Beanpot. When you've performed like the Crimson has of late in 'Pot play, winning is no longer the issue.

They weren't talking about earning that highly-touted official boasting permit, either.

The issue was the consolation game. For the sixth straight year, the Crimson was headed to the first game on the second Monday.

To play a consolation game that offers no consolation.

It's more like the contrition game: three periods of penance for the sporting sin of losing in the opening round.

"We struggle the first night," Harvard Coach Bill Cleary said. "We've not played in the nine o'clock game for so long I've forgotten what it looks like."

Of late, the Crimson has been struggling on the first shot of the first night. When the Huskies converted their initial blast, it marked the third straight time that Harvard has surrendered a goal on the opening shot of a Beanpot.

More of the Same

That Northeastern tally wasn't as demoralizing as the shot from center ice that beat Grant Blair a year ago in the opening round, but it was a little omen: "This year's gonna be the same."

And with all due respect to the Crimson's last-minute flurry, it was.

"I don't think we deserved to win," Crimson Captain Peter Chiarelli said. "We only played well in the last two minutes of the third period."

The game before the nine o'clock game is played during rush hour in front of a tiny crowd in the cavernous Garden. By the time the final period starts, the crowd for the real game begins to roll in.

The hordes start to work their way to their seats as they chat about the real game.

All this while the two losers do their Hail Mary's on the ice.

The contest gets about as much attention as the pee-wees who sometimes play before the Bruins game. For those little kids to be on the Garden ice is a thrill of a lifetime for the consolation kids, it's just nightmare. For the fans, it's a distraction.

Harvard fans can stay home Monday. The Harvard players have no choice. They have to show.

Now it doesn't matter that fourth-ranked B.C. and second-ranked Harvard were in the Beanpot. A pair of unranked squads will be taking center stage Monday, after the Eagles and Crimson sweep out the theater.

For many Crimson players--the ones from Canada and the West--the Beanpot was no big deal when they first came here.

After four first-round losses, that's changed.

"It didn't mean so much at the beginning, but it's different now that we've gotten so, so close," Chiarelli said.

For the local boys like Butch Cutone who've grown up watching the 'Pot, the failure to find the finals was excrutiating. They came to Harvard for the opportunity to play for the 'Pot while Boston watched.

Now they can only wonder.

"The final game must be a lot of fun," Cutone said with the look of someone who'll never know.