Everybody loves taters.

And by taters, I mean dingers. Did I say dingers? I meant jacks. Dongs. Gophers. Moneyballs. Big flies and round-trippers.

In linguistics, they teach you that slang frequently comes from “tabooed words, especially for the ones considered most objectionable.” You can read that on page 231 of Hock and Joseph’s bible of semantic change, Language History, Language Change and Language Relationship.

“Home runs” is the exception. No kidding, everybody loves them. So it comes as no surprise that home run records are scrutinized and admired unlike any other in sport.

I have, then, just one question: where’s the love for the Harvard single-season home run record?

Right now, that mark is in danger. On Sunday, shortstop Zak Farkes stepped up to the plate and connected. The No. 2 hitter, a generously-listed 5’11, 195-lb. sophomore from Boston, once again packed a punch that belied his frame.

On an inside pitch from Brown hurler Brian Tews, Farkes turned and hammered a 390-foot rocket into the shrubs beyond left field. That rocket shot, his tenth home run of the season, tied him for the Harvard school single-season record.

After the game, Farkes was characteristically humble about his accomplishment and preferred, instead, to talk about the more immediate circumstances of the homer.

The game was Harvard’s third straight win, putting the squad—only two games behind first-place Dartmouth—in reasonable position to pounce upon the league lead in the final Ivy weekend set against the Big Green.

“It feels great,” Farkes said of the record, “but I really wasn’t thinking that much about that.”

Until that point, not too many among the Harvard faithful were, either.

Moments after Farkes crossed the plate, the public address system announced the feat to a surprised smattering of cheers from the fans at O’Donnell Field.

Contrast that reaction with Busch Stadium’s on September 8, 2001, when Mark McGwire launched No. 61 into Big Mac country.

Obviously, there’s a difference. Aside from the fact that Farkes isn’t chasing a Major League cultural pedestal, school records don’t usually garner too much attention.

Here’s why this one should.