It’s a walk that athletes take on almost a daily basis, a walk I’m sure they’re used to.

The walk is made especially awful after a winter rain, as the cars on JFK Street race past with no regard for the lowly pedestrians they drench on the walking sides of the street. Even on an early fall afternoon, it’s brutal—the sun beats down on your neck as you try to make it for the kickoff of the week’s football action (thank you, Harvard Stadium, for your lack of lights and early start times).

By the time you get to your seat in the stands, you’re ready to turn around and go back—and with that line of thought in mind, many simply don’t show up in the first place.

No, it has nothing to do with the fact that our most popular sports aren’t competitive on a national stage, or the fact that we’re too concerned with e-recruiting and problem sets to be bothered by an evening jaunt with a Crimson sports team.

Our athletic apathy has to do with the fact that we, as one-track minded college students, just don’t want to cross that damn bridge.

No offense to Nicholas Longworth Anderson, the namesake for the Anderson Memorial Bridge (the most frequently crossed overpass to the Allston athletic facilities), but he’s the reason we’ll do whatever is necessary to sneak our way into Debauchery, but we won’t walk to Lavieties on Friday for one of the most memorable Princeton games in years. You didn’t need a tattoo to watch Harvard lose on a last-second bucket, thank you very much.

The proposed expansion to Allston would help alleviate a bit of our apathy, but just for the 3,000 or so extra students the growth would allow for. What about the rest of us?

The solution is an easy one.

All the fanaticism that goes to waste for the teams that play across the river should be channeled towards the notable handful who don’t abandon their Cambridge roots when game-time rolls around—specifically, men’s and women’s volleyball, men’s and women’s fencing, and wrestling.

These trusty few deserve our cheers, jeers, and roars. Unlike our bridge-crossing peers to the south, these three sports—and the five teams among them—honor their Cantabrigian heritage and don’t make us cross some bridge just in order to watch them.

What else is even over there, honestly? Granted, the aforementioned expansion will give us a reason to cross the Charles. It’ll be a win-win situation—go visit a friend in an Allston dorm, and also catch a game while you’re over there.

But until then, what incentive are we left with for which to travel over to the other side?

Oh, right, the games. The games of the other thirty-something Harvard sports teams.

The games are what we came here for, right?

Well, no. But being home to the University with more large-scale athletic teams than anyone else, it’s time we dropped the act. We weren’t lazy in getting here, so we shouldn’t be lazy about our sports once we’re enrolled here. It’s not too much to ask for someone to take the five or ten minute walk to the facilities when sports are so much of the culture of college life. Yes, every college’s life. Yes, even at Harvard.

Quick, think about how many varsity athletes you personally know here. There’s a good bet it’s more than your friends at other schools.

We as students shouldn’t let the walk over a bridge deter us from providing the support our athletic teams deserve.

Way back in ‘87, it was my man KRS-One who said, “The bridge is over, the bridge is over, biddy-bye-bye!”

But in 2001, it was Nas who said, “Nah, this is the time we destroy and rebuild it.”

It’s time for Harvard to destroy the old stigmas and rebuild its fan rep.

Besides, I could use a little company. The walk gets kind of lonely in the wintertime.

­—Staff writer Malcom A. Glenn can be reached at mglenn@fas.harvard.edu.