THE SENIOR SLUMP: Upperclassmen Fade Away in Athletics

Back at Southeast High School it is a big think for a sophomore to be the team star or a letter winner. Even at colleges upper class-area understandably dominate intercollegiate sports.

But during the last 10 years at Harvard, there's been a reversal. Sophomores, for example, won more letters than juniors and sensors together this year in cross-country and track; sophomores outnumbered the upperclassmen on the hockey team; sophomores on the swimming team have been three times more numerous than seniors during the past two years.

It is not that this year's sophomore class has been exceptional: the pattern repeats every year in several sports. Take swimming. In the last seven years there have never been more senior than sophomore letter winners. Baseball batting averages are admittedly unpredictable, but it means something when the leading hitter among the regulars for the last four years has been a sophomore (Mike Patrick '65, Jim Tobin '66, Dan Hootstein '67, and Bob Welz '68).

If teams continually depend on sophomores, then upperclass athletes have been fading away. There are always individuals like track captain Tony Lynch and seven-foot high-jumper Chris Pardee who improve each year, but there are also many more athletes who taper off after their freshman or sophomore season.

I am not saying that the level of Harvard's intercollegiate athletics has declined -- in fact it is steadily improving. In two sports, squash and crew, Harvard has clearly had the best teams in the country for the last several years. Nor am I saying that student's decay physically at Harvard more than elsewhere. The House programs probably make the overall athletic level at Harvard and Yale higher than anywhere does in the country. They also provide an outlet for upperclassmen that desert the university ranks.

And yet, if these explanations do not account for the lack of Junior and senior athletics, what does? A variety of theories have been offered to make sense out of the statistics. First, it is often said that competition improves with each incoming freshman class. A look at comparative freshmen records over the past few years, however, shows that yearly variations are insignificant. A second hypothesis blames marriage for the disaffection of many of Harvard's finest athletes. It may have been for some -- sprinter Aggrey A word, for example, during his senior year. And yet, Coach John Yovicsin says that none of his married players have stopped their college football or have been hampered in their style. Not one married junior varsity player has thrown in the towel either.

Poor facilities cannot be credited with the decay of Harvard athletes. Only in skiing, golf, and tennis does Harvard have less than adequate accomodations.

The most plausible theories blame injury, age, and academic pressure for the downfall of sophomore stars. There is a little truth in each of these; long-distance runner Walt Hewlett, wrestler Howard Durfee, or alpine skier Mark Jensen were all hampered by injuries, and yet they are the exceptions. The percentage of injuries is so small that it cannot be a significant cause in athletic decay. Older athletes at Harvard occasionally slow down but rarely quit. At the age of 23 or 24, it is understandable that Awori or butterflier Neville Hayes never matched their sophomore performances, especially after having already competed in the Olympics. Academics too can hurt, but again the statistics are not convincing: about two-thirds of Harvard's varsity athletes say that their grades are best during the season of their sport, when they must keep regular schedules.

The best answer to the decay of Harvard athletes can be found in the admissions policy, which leans toward exceptional athletes with outside interests.

In high school talented athletes devote almost all their time to sports without warping their school life. It takes a lot more effort to excel at the intercollegiate level, and yet at the same time, with all Harvard's institutional activity, the athlete wants to spend less, not more, time at practice.

Swimmer Dave Abramson '65 is a classic example of the falling athlete. He set NCAA freshman records in both the 220 and 440 yard freestyles and defeated Yale's Ed Townsend and Dave Lyons both on the same day Eventually Abramson became the team's captain, but he never reached the promise of his freshman year.

"Twenty years ago I'd be shipwrecked if I didn't make an Olympian out of an Abramson,' "says swimming coach Bill Brooks, "but now I accept that he is a class marshal and has other committments as well as swimming."

One junior, who settled down to mediocre varsity participation after captaining an undefeated freshman team, explained his growing apathy: "I guess I spend too much time thinking how to be a good athlete. Athletes shouldn't think; they should play by instinct."

An athlete does not have to be mindless to be great, but he does not have to commit himself, and that's what is especially hard for a Harvard senior. Baaron B. Pittinger, director of sports information, estimates that he has seen 10 or 12 fully dedicated athletes in his seven years here.

In sports which require constant strain such as wrestling and swimming, seniors are hard to find. In the past six years seniors have comprised less than 10 per cent of the wrestling team twice and 20 per cent twice. This year's graduating class is the only class in years to finish with as many seniors as there were sophomores two years before. The class of 1965, in contrast, had seven letter-winners in 1963, three in 1964, letter and two in 1965. The class of 1965 lettered five in 1962, four in 1963, and two in 1964.

Swimming trends are the same. In the past five years, 10 sophomores have failed to win letters again as juniors. For about eight years, Coach Brooks says, senior participation has dropped. "The sport takes tremendous drive and can become your master," says Brooks. "I understand when a boy finally finds the pressure too much."

Fencing and skiing demonstrate an equally scarce participation from upperclassmen. It is these individual sports, which offer less rigid training schedules, that seniors avoid. In fact, football, soccer, hockey, and baseball teams all have a large jump in lettermen from the sophomore to junior year. These sports also have junior varsity teams that serve as training grounds. Yovicsin, a firm believer in experience and careful play, arranges for Harvard to have more junior varsity games than anyone else in the league. He never has more than five sophomore regulars on his teams, even with the two-platoon system.

It is worth noting that Harvard's freshman football teams are extremely successful. Except for last fall, when the team compiled a 4-1-1 record, Harvard has downed all Ivy opposition, barely lost only once a year ago to Boston College, and recorded two undefeated seasons before that one.

Track and cross country, sports dependent on physical maturity and individual training, show a decline in competitors after the sophomore year but then a rise before the senior year. Runners, especially those of Coach Bill McCurdy, are a breed unto themselves.

Under coaches like Jack Barnaby and Harry Parker, who have built up sports dynasties, sophomore starters never quit, and the burden falls upon seniors. In squash, many juniors who could not make it as sophomores earn letters. One member of the class of 1967 lettered last year, but this year there are five from the class of 1967.

Barnaby teaches novices well enough their freshman and sophomore years so that they sun move up a few notches into a low starting position their junior year, and then take a prominent spot as a senior. Barnaby always has two or three such students, such as Matt Hall or Todd Wilkinson.

The one sport which enlists almost total dedication is crew, in which Parker has developed an unsurpassed tradition. There have been as many as eight seniors among nine letter winners and as few as two, but there never have been underclass letter winners one year who don't return the next season.

Crew escaped the usual doom for senior-laden spring teams last year by having oarsmen like Paul Gunderson and Geoff Picard take the whole semester off. This year's lacrosse team, with the most seniors in seven years, was less fortunate. It was unvictorious in Ivy competition.

Most coaches accept the senior decay as normal, and even as healthy. "It wouldn't be Harvard if more than a few boys devoted their greatest amount of attention to athletics," says one coach. Recognizing the necessity for outside interests, Barnaby keeps only loose demands on his players in order to avoid binding them down.

At the end of the college career of a Crimson swimmer who eventually became an Olympian, Brooks asked him, "Why didn't you go to Yale?" "Those were the old days," says Brooks. "That boy was giving 80 per cent of his energy to swimming at a time when I was giving a corny speech about dedicating 30 per cent to swimming."