Since coming to Harvard, I have discovered that home-team spirit has taken on a whole new meaning. It used to be that I shared my obsession with the Red Sox, Celtics, Bruins and Patriots with my classmates and friends. Here in college, however, fellow Bay-staters are harder to find, and what used to be a game between the Patriots and some other team has now become personal war with the Californian downstairs. Admittedly, Boston teams have not done that well lately. Three months ago, I had to sit by and watch in aggrieved silence while the New York Yankees won the World Series. The Red Sox had not had a chance, as usual, but this time, instead of turning off the television and avoiding the newspapers, I had to congratulate the crazed New Yorkers screaming in the dorm. I did find some small happiness in their joy--after all, they are my friends--but really! The Yankees? How could I ever in good conscience be truly pleased that they won the World Series?

What about my good Ol' Town Teams? I was beginning to doubt that I would ever have any gloating rights here in Hollis South. The Bruins and Celtics, as usual, are mediocre at best. Basketball is one of my favorite sports, but I can't even really root for UMass. now that Calipari and Camby are gone. So I'm left with...football. But wait! The Patriots have taken the AFC by storm. As I write this, they are one victory away from winning the league championship. So now it's my turn. I mention Drew Bledsoe at every opportunity; my two fellow Massachusettsans and I discuss strategy for next Sunday's game. It's fun reminding the out-of-staters how well we're doing, but they sometimes don't appreciate how AMAZING it is that we've won so many games. Taken out of context, the Patriots' winning ways and playoff spot could be misunderstood as a regular occurrence. But for those of us aware of the gloomy history, this team is finally doing what it should have done several years ago. We've put in the blood, sweat and tears (or at least the couch-potato minutes) to really appreciate every successful touchdown pass. Thus, it is our job to educate our dormmates, reminding them of the pain of every interception or fourth-down failure. "Look," I say excitedly. "We actually converted on 4th and 1!" My friends have learned to just nod and smile.

The problem with my newly proactive home-team spirit is that I have less time now at Harvard to watch football than I did in high school. Sunday afternoons were usually devoted to popcorn and the Patriots. Now, they're earmarked, more often than not, for sleep or the contemplation (but never completion) of my homework assignments. I have learned to bookmark the ESPN SportsZone Web Page and "reload" every 20 minutes during the game to find out the latest score. Dinner-table boasting or teeth-gnashing has replaced reading the Globe's sports section from cover to cover. Harvard makes much of what is going on in "the real world" seem peripheral, but following sports is one way to stay connected, however remotely.

You may say that it is just as easy to bookmark the NPR or New York Times web pages and keep yourself up to date on international events of grave importance to the future of the world. That's true, and I'm sure we all try to do so. There is something about following sports, though, that, besides being a connection to the outside world, is also a release of energy, a fun diversion. When you are tired of that chem problem set or endless Expos revision, why not start a debate about who will win the NCAA basketball championship this year or search ESPN for Pete Sampras' latest match results?

But perhaps the best thing about following sports at Harvard is how it expands your horizons. I do have to admit that after being forced to watch several playoff games, I was impressed by Yankee manager Joe Torre and the athletic skills of Bernie Williams and Joe Deter. I would never have watched the Kansas City Chiefs/Detroit Lions game on Thanksgiving if a girl in my dorm didn't live in Kansas and wasn't always talking about the mighty Chiefs. Though I still have to draw the line at rooting for the Oakland Raiders, the Dallas Cowboys and the Yankees (most of the time), I have discovered in the last three months that there are many more teams I feel good about supporting. Behind each team is a town or city, and now that I know people from so many more towns and cities, I feel I have a more comfortable grasp on the sports world and the world in general. When someone at home mentions the San Diego Chargers, I can now say that I know two people from San Diego and that they're actually okay, though they mourned for a while after Pittsburgh defeated them. When someone insults the sad record of the Philadelphia 76ers, I can't join in with complete abandon, because I know that somewhere in Hollis, there is someone rooting for them.

Although our home-town affiliations may seem to divide us, I think they ultimately bring us together. After all, I'm sure my, dormmates will be thrilled when I host the week-long celebration of the Patriots' Super Bowl victory. And I won't gloat for too long.