They limit the number of recruits that schools can bring in.

They enforce a ridiculous 10-game schedule that makes it all but impossible to schedule preseason scrimmages, because every other team is already playing.

And they maintain an illogical ban on postseason play that is as ill-conceived as it is discriminatory.

But on Nov. 20, Summers will be there showing off that football team he’s so proud of to alums with fond memories and large checkbooks.

I love The Game as much as anyone, but the hypocrisy of publicly taking pride in a football team and then privately strangling it just disgusts me.

What if the players refused to go along with it? What if they stood up and said, “You can’t single us out and continue to crack down on us and then pretend like we’re the pride of the Ivy League on one fall day each year?” What if Saturday came, but the players didn’t?

The statement would be loud and far-reaching. If Harvard sacrificed its shot at an undefeated season to send a message that Ivy League football teams deserve better, the nation—which includes those ignorant presidents—would be forced to take notice.

Of course, this would never happen, and it’s seemingly even ridiculous to mention. But it’s precisely the inability to muster a large, collective message that allows those eight administrators to get away with their discriminatory policies.

In the end, I know that I’ll still attend The Game. And the players will too. And so will Summers.

But it’s very clear that one of those three just doesn’t belong.

—Staff writer Michael R. James can be reached at mrjames@fas.harvard.edu.