Last week, Yale announced that U-Hauls and kegs would be banned at their pre-The Game tailgate from now on, and that all tailgating that happens must be concluded by kickoff. While the changes are understandable, they no doubt leave many Harvard students wondering, “What is the point in going to The Game now?”

Truly, in the past, the festivities have only centered on football in name, never in fact. We believe this is largely because the contest in question is not something that is either school’s strong suit. In order to maintain the vitality of this storied rivalry in the absence of alcohol, we ought to compete in something that both schools really do excel at, something the fans could really get behind—like recruiting.

Students would make their way to New Haven for a weekend in late January, and rather than the team going down with pads and helmets, the competitors would busy themselves with buffing out any scuff marks on their loafers and memorizing the Wall Street Journal on the bus ride down.

The night before would be a busy night for the contenders, as they practice tying double Windsor knots and unbuttoning suit jackets as they chant “Do the basics, best!” and utter feverish prayers to John Pierpont Morgan. Meanwhile the rest of us who are only in town to watch the competition would do our best to catch up with a few Elis before getting to sleep early for the 0700 start.

Now, we know, this doesn’t sound like as much fun as a barely-remembered tailgate followed by some good old-fashioned pigskin slingin’, but the competition hasn’t even begun! On the morning of the competition, the Harvard band would begin to play as the drummer beats his instrument in what would be perfect time for “99 Luftballons” if the entire rest of the band weren’t preparing for the competition.

The cheerleaders would have a part to play in this new competition as well of course. Not ours, of course. They would be competing too. But a couple of ex-cheerleaders who graduated in ’04 would make it and fill in.

The fans would line up across from one another, fiercely rooting on their classmates, chanting the most recent levels of the Dow and S&P at their teams. Only a few short blocks away, in the designated safe “free-speech zone,” Occupiers from each school would protest, struggling between their opposing urges to find a more effective way to protest the competition and their urge to build something geodesic.

As the officiating referee blows his whistle, the two teams would sprint toward a series of representatives from different banks, where they would be judged on their ability to avoid the former Fannie Mae and Freddie Mac execs and pick out the Goldman reps to schmooze.  After the first round the students still in the competition, those skilled enough not to be trapped in conversation with a few former Bear Stearns employees just glad to talk to someone, would make their way to an obstacle course where they would crawl hanging from ropes over pools where the original Lehman Brothers make frantic grasps for their ankles in attempts to pull them under.

Having passed these veritable modern Scyllae, the remaining contenders would rush to their second round interviews, where they would be judged on the neatness of their ties or pantsuits as well as the conditions that their resumes have survived in. Should they pass this final test, they must jog the last half-mile of the course while giving a detailed explanation of how to calculate discounted cash flow.

The official at the end of the course would tally up each school’s successful internships, and the school with the most placements would leave the field victorious.

Best of all, the new competition would take the once-a-year excitement of the football game and expand it. If you didn’t get an internship the first time, you can always come back next weekend for the consulting games!