(to the tune of, “Swing Low, Sweet Chariot”)

“Cheng HO, sweet carrier, going for the old endzonnnnnne,

Cheng HO (Cheng HO!), sweet carrrrrriiieerrr, goinnnggg for the old end zone.”

I wish you could hear these dulcet sounds, but alas, we have not developed the technology to allow papers to talk and sing—yet. (Did you see Harry Potter? If wizards can do it, surely Bill Gates can, too!)

This, my friends, is how you cheer.

I’ve seen many students coming out to the recent home football matches. They sport their fancy new, ‘Crimson Crazies’ T-shirts, get into the stands, and then…do nothing.

I mean, nothing. Like zilch. Minus zilch. Which equals? Zilchy zilch.

And I’ve been known to raise my voice a time or two or million to do my best to get the crowd going to support our teams—be it football or field hockey or basketball or women’s soccer.

But our Crazies haven’t really got it. We need to learn from the cheering squad from which we ganked our fan club’s namesake. Yes, those crazies down in Cameron Indoor (aka, Cameron Crazies, get it?) were the staple for loud, obnoxious, and also, yes, creative college fandom in the mid-80s and 90s.

I’ll give two examples. As a die-hard UVA fan, I hate do this, but I’m Crimson now, and drastic times call for some measures that may also be drastic: North Carolina’s standout guard of the mid-80s, Steve Hale, punctured his lung the game before facing rival Duke. While sitting on the bench, the Crazies would taunt him, chanting, “in-Hale, ex-Hale.” Creative and devilish. So devilish.

Then, in 1984, Maryland’s Herman Veal was accused of sexually assaulting a fellow student. In the game at Cameron Indoor, the Blue Devil women collectively threw 1000 pairs of panties onto the court while yelling a collection of cheers I can’t print—although I’d love to.

And Duke isn’t even a big school. It’s a private college known more, like Harvard, for its academics then its sports. But the kids still bucked up and cheered their arses off.

At the moment, the Crazies, like the team, have gone down hill, but at their peak, they presented an example to us all of how real Crazies cheer.

So I offer another set of principles, for you, my loyal Crimson Crazies, which will guide you in your quest to ultimate fandom. Let’s get nasty. Real nasty.

Principle 1: Listen to Luda’

As Christopher Bridges so eloquently put it, ‘Stand up. Aah. Stand up. Yeah.”

For those a little more funky, “get up out your seat, and dance til’ you feel better.”

Whatever song gets you going, follow it. Follow it to freedom.

You see, Ludacris was not just talking to some hoes in the Hozone Layer, he was talking to you. He wants us to do our duty as fans and stand up when the game matters the most.

I’m not asking you to stand up all game, although most football schools do. What I’m asking is that you get in the game and not simply sit down all the time while texting your girlfriend about how good that Berryline was last night.

We know. It was awesome. But for now, for your girlfriend’s sake, for your daughter’s sake, get up and cheer.

Principle 2: The definition of a cheer

When someone starts a cheer, you cheer. That’s why it’s called a cheer. It’s one of those words that is a noun, but it’s also a verb, and the two are really close in meaning, just different grammatical meanings. So, like you cheer, a cheer.

It may sound like I’m speaking to five-year olds, not the distinguished Harvard students that we all are. But moving away from the land of books to the land of sports, many of the students are acting like kids. Little kids with braids and lollipop, gumdrop dreams.

You know what? Gumdrops don’t exist in football land. Only in Candy Land by Mattel.

So when you hear some chants, cheers, “Cheng Ho, Sweet Carriers,” being started up, help us out and participate. Participate your little patoots off.

Principle 3: Unleash the Beast

I’m not talking about Milwaukee’s Best here. I’m talking about your best, and it’s near.

You have the potential, all of you, I know it. You can BS your way through a four-page response paper when you haven’t done a lick of the reading. You can write a thesis on Tupac. On Tupac!

There should be no reason that, with a little practice and preparation, you can come up with your own cheer, find your own “Brozone” to cheer with non-stop, or, in a matter of speaking, release the (Fan) Beast inside each and everyone one of you.

Because we’re the Crimson. And it’s time for all of us—finally—to get Crazy.

—Staff writer Walter E. Howell can be reached at wehowell@fas.harvard.edu.