He was also wearing a rubber chicken, a loan from his roommate, and a Yale tie, a gift from his uncle.

As usual, the Game drew fans of all ages. There were alums from before World War I, and there were, of course, plenty of first-year students.

James L. Doak '94 said he found The Game somewhat disappointing because the Harvard crowd would not cheer like fans at big football schools.

"I've been trying to lead the wave for the entire game and no one will do it," he said. Doaks attributed the lack of enthusiasm to the point spread and what he termed "the Ivy League syndrome."

"They just weren't willing to loosen up," he said.

But Hamilton Fish '10, who at 102 is Harvard's oldest living alumn, seemed more than pleased by the progress on the field as he watched alertly from the sidelines.

Twenty years ago, Fish almost missed a game because his sister had died in mid-November and the funeral date was set to coincide with The Game, said Lydia Fish, Hamilton's wife.

But "he told them `no' because of the Harvard-Yale game," she said.

Macmillan said that in his years of ushering, he has often thought there was an unofficial competition to be the oldest alumni returning to the game.

"It's amazing to come here in the morning and watch them being wheeled around," he said.

Macmillan said he wasn't quite sure what kept the alumni coming back, but he had one idea. "Maybe it keeps them living, who knows," he said.

BUT THE GAME apparently meant something to the fans who packed the Stadium, and it even meant something to the referees, who fled from the field as the crowd spilled from the stands at the game's end.

Even for the men in stripes, the Harvard-Yale contest is something special, said referee Ray Renart.

"There's something there...it starts when you wake up in the morning," Renart said. "It's the highlight of our career, too."