"Hi, mom, just dropped by with a few of my friends. Hope the refrigerator's full."

Some sports psychologist once spoke of a "two-hour period"--the first two hours the team gets on a bus. During that time, there's talk, chatter, jokes batted back and forth, insults hurled from player to player

After two hours, there is a calm. People read, listen to walkmen, fall asleep. The excitement is submerged in the hum of the bus.

After the Harvard-Yale football game, a drunken Yale fan hopped on one of the Harvard buses and proceeded to tell the Crimson players how well they had played, what classy individuals they were.

Like many people in his condition, the fan did not know when to stop. So he kept on, kept saying--yelling, exhorting--what a great job Harvard had done and what fine boys all the Harvard players were. On and on.

The bus driver finally instructed the fan to leave. Hit the road, Jack.

Leele Groome once stood up in front of a bus and did a 10-minute Harvard field hockey rap. For 10 minutes, the bus was filled with laughter.

I am on the road again. The highway stretches deep into the horizon.