A Not-So-Bright Night

In April of 1980, after Baltimore Oriole pitcher Dennis Martinez was beaned by a fan-propelled beer bottle at Chicago's Comiskey Park Red Smith wrote in The New York Times. There must be hoodlums who attend the theater or opera or ballet as well as baseball, football and hockey games, but they never throw things at the actors, and only certifiable crackpots try to slash the Mona Lisa or take a hammer to Michelangelo's Pieta Generally speaking, it is only at sports events that violence is done Customers who wouldn't dream of jeering at Barbra Streisand or Luciano Pavarottie seem to feel that a ticket to the grandstand or the bleachers is a license to the grandstand or the bleachers is a license to commit mayhem on the entertainers.

We now have hoodlums at Harvard. They're not licensed, but they should be committed. Because they have decided that throwing things at the actors can be fun Things like wine bottles and full cans of beer.

Last Friday night at Bright Hockey Center before an SRO crowd. Harvard defeated Cornell. 3-2, on Shayne Kukulowicz's tally just 24 seconds into overtime. The game was a typical Crimson Big Red encounter tightly contested and as chippy as ever.

After the first Harvard goal on a Ken Code power play slapshot 354 into the game--the Harvard fans joyously sprayed the Cornell defensive zone with hundreds of multi-colored tennis balls and one live and pleasantly pick chicken. The onslaught was directed at Cornell goaltender Darren Eliot, who promptly headed for the safety of his own bench.

Such a bombardments is a Cornell play from way back, invented and patented at Ithaca's Lynah Rink for times when schools towards which Cornell students are less than amiable bring their hockey teams to town Harvard is one such school.

Last year at Bright, Harvard fans turned the tables on Cornell, flooding Big Red netminder Brian Hayward's crease with tennis balls, a red-splotched chicken, and fish and squad of various shapes and sizes. It was funny, and it worked, as Hayward proceeded to give up four goals in the next 10 minutes, sending Harvard on its way to a win and a berth in the ECAC playoffs.

This time around, it wasn't so appealing. Though the initial volley was something to behold, it did little to upset Eliot, one of the East's finest goaltenders. He finished the game with 42 saves, nearly stealing a much needed win from the Crimson And Further more, littering the ice became distressingly contagious.

After Harvard's next goal, Code's second red lighter six and a half minutes later, tennis halls were again thrown at Eliot, despite the impassioned pleas of Harvard Coach Bill Cleary to stop Cleary feared a delay of game penalty would be called on the Crimson, going Cornell a chance to get back in the game Luckily, all that referee Pierre Belanger handed out was a warning.

Obviously, however some people weren't paying attention to the words of rink announcer Ben Zurier, who repeated the warning for the fans to hear. They only remembered one thing. When Harvard scores, let fly with whatever happens to be at hand.

When Kukulowicz scored the game winner it was monkey see monkey do, as they say for only someone whose I.Q. was pushing that of the lowest primates could have spoiled Harvard's short lived victory celebration by tossing two choice items at the head of the unsuspecting Eliot the above mentioned wine bottle and beer can.

Fortunately, the wine bottle missed. Who knows what might have happened to the Cornell goaltender if the glass had shattered across the back of his neck. Unfortunately the same could not be said for the loaded beer can, w3hich struck Eliot dazed him and sent him into a heap on the ice. The police call that assault and battery, I call it sick.

It may or may not have happened anyway considering the ever present animosity between the two teams, but concurrent with Eliot's beaning, all bell broke loose between the celebrating Crimson and the fuming Big Red. The brawl, like none ever seen in Bright Center, raged out of control for several minutes, as coaches trainers, the reference, the linesmen and even George the Cop tried to break it up. Every time two players were untangled, four more were swinging and clawing away at each other somewhere else.

Finally, after the two teams were separated and banished to their respective locker rooms and Eliot was back on his feet and feeling okay, the Harvard fans began slowly to file out of the rink. No one was feeling overly joyous, despite the exciting and important win. Clearly, who normally has been extremely appreciative of the strong fan support, was outraged.

"I've never been this upset about a win before," he said. "If those are the fans we've got then we'll play in an empty rink."

One hopes that Cleary is not serious, for punishing every Harvard fan for the dirty work of two individuals hardly seems fair. But something has to be done. A good start would be a close inspection of people entering the rink for bottles and cans of any kind. Throw out those who have them. It's doubtful that two-and-a-half hours at Bright Center would be any less enjoyable without the alcohol. And it's a worthwhile sacrifice, if it saves the skull of a hockey player.

Secondly, maybe Sections 10 through 13 should consider the tennis ball barrages to be history. If nothing is thrown on the ice, maybe the monkey's of this world won't become unnecessarily inspired. A downpour of "Sieves" is probably more devastating to a goalie's psyche, anyway. And it's a whole lot safer.

In Harvard's next home game, Saturday night, let's beat the Yalies-not beat them up