Word: rhythms
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...Technology (NJIT) proved more effective, dispatching the Crimson, 3-2 (28-30, 30-26, 30-24, 28-30, 15-11), Friday night at the Malkin Athletic Center. Playing in its home opener, Harvard (0-2, 0-2 Hay) came out on fire but couldn’t maintain its rhythm through the match. In fact, when co-captain and starting setter Dave Fitz had to leave the game with a minor ankle injury before the start of the fourth frame, it seemed that the Crimson had little chance of challenging the Highlanders (3-0, 3-0). But Harvard?...
...nine rebounds for the Crimson. A tough zone defense helped Harvard to a game-opening 16-3 lead and a 31-16 advantage at the break. The Crimson alternated man-to-man and different types of zone defenses, never allowing the Lions to find any kind of offensive rhythm. “Our defense is playing together so much better now that we’re so many games into the season,” Tay said. “When there were breakdowns, it was a team effort,” Delaney-Smith added...
...didn’t have that game rhythm and game toughness (against Yale),” Delaney-Smith said. “This season has not been about what our opponents are doing. It’s been about taking care of our business and bringing some consistency to our game...
...inside the air is thick and pungent with the heavy scent of perspiration. A small microphone is turned on, and a middle-aged man with a face creased with grief began chanting a mournful dirge. The penitents, sitting in rough circles, begin to pound their chests in a powerful rhythm amplified by a hundred chest cavities. Deep and as resonant as a heartbeat, the sound gradually changes tenor as thin cotton shirts split with the force of repeated blows and palms slap bare skin. Men wail...
...seated men raise their voices to join in with shouts of "Ya Hussein!" (Oh Hussein!) and "Islam Zindabad!" (Long Live Islam!), a few move to the middle of the circles, chain flails gripped in both hands. The chest pounding grows stronger, quicker and louder. Following the rhythm, the men in the middle crouch down, spring from the ground and use the full force of acceleration to slam the flails down on their exposed backs. Bruises bloom, dark and malevolent, but their faces register no pain, only grief, or an almost otherworldly conviction...