Football Returns to Pre-War Style But Crowd Falls Short of Capacity

It was almost like pre-war--almost, that is, except for the crowd, which left great bare places in the Stadium that were more reminiscent of "informal" games than of 1941 or '42. The band was there, and the cheerleaders, and even Coach Harlow sitting grim as over in back of his eager players, neat but not gaudy in his blue worsted and Varsity Club tie.

Fourteen thousand was the official total. That's a lot short of capacity (around 58,000) but just a scattered few thousands around those end zone oases would have made a lot of difference in the atmosphere. Even the press box looked deserted for this opener, the earliest in Harlow's Harvard history except for a tuneup with a pre-flight eleven in 1942.

It was probably the band that looked most like before the war. With flashy uniforms (they get new ones this week) and a competent drum major (yes, major) they paraded before the kickoff and between the halfs, displaying a well-drilled marching technique and creditable musical skill. Their performance came to its expected climax as the column approached the Crimson goal posts during its between-the-half stint and the leader flipped his baton neatly over the crossbar, then grabbed it successfully on the way down.

Team Needs Timing

On the field during playing-time it was a Crimson-jerseyed football team that you watched, an eleven that brought back memories--happy and unhappy--of the last years of formal grid competition. For the spectators saw a football team that had been superbly coached but had not quite caught up with its coaching, that had not yet developed the timing necessary to execute the ball-handling that is part of any Harlow system, T or otherwise.

Whether it was completely digested or not, it was obvious to sideline quarterbacks that it was the spice of Harlow coaching that enabled the Crimson to slip by its heavier, more experienced opponents. Even the superb line play of Eddie Davis, Ned Dewey, Chuck Glynn, and Jack Fisher would not have won the ball game without that last-minute trick of inserting southpaw, Tom Gannon, to fake a left end run and fling a pass just over the goal.

Harlow Glum at Game

From a look at Harlow's face after that score, you'd have thought he was playing for the other team. With other coaches and players milling around him in unrestrained exuberance, Dick sat calmly and unenthusiastically--perhaps stoically would be better--in his seat.

The Huskies weren't happy about it either. The Dropo boys were probably the most annoyed, judging from their attitude as displayed during the game. Center, Milt, protested vehemently and continuously, especially when he thought Jim Noonan had grabbed a pass in violation of the rule forbidding contact with a pass by two players on the same team in succession. And Walt, the big end, almost came to fisticuffs once with Pete Petrillo.

Actually, Connecticut was too close to scoring for comfort. On one pass play from the Crimson 12-yard marker, Christensen broke free in the end zone, only to have Ferrigno's pass go over his outstretched arms.