Remember February 14, 2004?

It was Valentine’s Day, but it also was Harvard 78, Yale 71, if you don’t recall.

At the time, you could have said the result was a well-deserved present to the Yale Daily News, which had taken the opportunity to forecast a basketball game that—and I quote—“shouldn’t even be close.”

And you would have had a lot of fun doing so.

But, ultimately, what happened at this game truly did not deserve to emerge as so much of a surprise, an upset, a shocker, whatever you want to call it.

Really, if you knew anything about sports, Harvard, or Yale—whether you’re a freshman or senior—you should have known better than to make any kind of categorical prediction about the contest in the first place.

Yes, even though our basketball team was 3-17 before tip-off; even though the Bulldogs had led eventual national champion (a healthy No. 1 Connecticut) at the half in its first game of the season.

Despite all those things, you still should have known better, and this weekend only gives me more reason to scold you for doing otherwise.

Because this weekend, the sport wasn’t basketball, but it didn’t really matter.

The lesson to be learned from a men’s lacrosse game in New Haven was the same to be taken from Valentine’s Day night at Lavietes.

When junior Mike McBride scored the game-winning goal past Bulldog netminder Jordan Ellis with 2.7 seconds remaining, he rendered the game just the latest in a long string of contests that are anything but predictable.

Of course, there have been a bunch of times when Yale has crushed Harvard, and vice-versa. Sometimes, there were just no illusions—before, or after—about what would transpire.

But it’s not so much about what will be, but what can—and the amazing, exemplary fashion in which it does.

Admittedly, the notion I’m discussing is a bit abstract. But still, one cannot deny that there exists what can only be described as an intangible—some sort of a x-factor—which renders foolish preview headlines like “M. Bball Expects No Surprises” senseless.

And, in best-case scenarios, like on that fateful Valentine’s Day, enjoyably ironic.