Word: beanpots
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...Brian Petrovek. One week later, Harvard beat Northeastern in the consolation, 4-2, and freshman goalie Paul Skidmore led Boston College in a 5-3 upset of the Terriers, but I wasn't there. I was too busy trying to reconcile the simultaneous allure and disappointment of my first Beanpot with a non-honors grade in the Government exam. Typical freshman...
February, 1977: Euphoria--There seemed to be a little more pre-Beanpot thought now that fancy had become ritual. I tried to characterize the participants. Boston University, traditional collegiate hockey power, was The Revered. Boston College, whose blown-dry kiss-me-I'm-Irish throng would fill half the seats in the Garden (the three remaining schools took the other half) was The Beloved. Northeastern, the commuter school on Huntington Ave. that never seemed to park itself in the 9:00 pm finals, had a Sports Information Director known as Jack "6:00" Grinold. The Huskies were The Damned...
...though nobody was ever handed anything at the Beanpot (with the exception of B.U., who danced around Northeastern in the first round that year, 7-2), occasionally a team would rise above the labels that people like myself were always writing...
...cathartic joy of winning the Beanpot was double-edged for me, a cool sophomore (what other kind is there?) at the time. It was refreshing to see the "old boys," the kids who everyone thought had all the advantages, climb out of their BMWs and hold their ground against the tough guys from across the Rivah--you know, the kind of guys who say, "What the----are you looking at, punk?" if they think you're staring at them in a bar. The setting was also refreshing. It was fitting that such a great athletic moment for Harvard would take...
February, 1978: Disillusion--I had my Beanpot gig down now. My brother, a freshman with brother, a freshman with sophomore standing in Beanpot Appreciation, arrived with me at the Garden at 4:30, 90 minutes before the start of the Harvard-Northeastern opener. We played pinball (they still have one of those great old baseball machines in the lobby of North Station, on which Boston Garden sits), copped a few quarter-pounders across the street, watched the scalpers set up shop. Setting the proper example was important when your team was defending champion...