Memories, No Triumph

DETROIT--He sat behind the microphone. He still wore his uniform and his hair was not combed. He was tired. His season was over. So was his career.

Both had come to an end far from where Harvard Captain Peter Chiarelli and his team had heard cheers. Scored goals. Made magic.

Both had come to an end in Joe Louis Arena, a big dome in the belly of this midwestern city. Both had come to an end in a game that neither Chiarelli nor his team wanted or expected to be in.

Both had come to an end with a 6-3 loss to Minnesota in the consolation game of the NCAA Tournament.

Now the press wanted to know what it felt like. Carrying the winningest Harvard team ever to the Final Four and then falling twice. Falling hard.

What did it feel like to lose badly? To get creamed?

Two weeks ago, Harvard had captured the ECAC Title with a 6-3 triumph over St. Lawrence in Boston Garden. In Harvard's back yard, the team had shone.

After that game, Chiarelli had little to say. He kept muttering about how great it was, how indescribably terrific it was, to win a tournament and to carry home a gold trophy. He had little to say then, overcome with sweet emotion.

Overcome with a different emotion--an emotion that fell somewhere between resignation and sadness--Chiarelli had little to say now. The season had been good, he said. A bad weekend would not change that.

Harvard would still have its ECAC trophy. Its 28 wins. Its memories.

The big prize went to a bigger--and a better--team. North Dakota made its NCAA-record 40th victory its most important, besting Michigan State in the tournament final.

For the Crimson, it could have been worse. Harvard could have defeated the Sioux in the semifinal and faced the Spartans for the title. Same as last year.

Harvard could have fallen again. Another last-minute shot. Another almost. Might have been. Oh, if only for some kind of break.

Like last year, Harvard players could have been sprawled out on the ice after game's end, crying. They could have heard those Michigan St. cheers again. They could have taken home the silver trophy again knowing that a gold one had only been a goal away.

As it was, there were no tears. And not a lot of cheers. During the consolation game, a couple thousand spectators were scattered around the colorful arena. Most wore green and white. They were waiting for the championship game to start.

Harvard did not take home a trophy this time. Gold, silver, bronze--there are only three kinds of trophies. They haven't devised a fourth one. No one wants a chrome--or other unprecious metal--staring out of a trophy case. Better just to forget it.

Throughout the year, comparisons have been made between this year's team and last year's.

Last year's team had stars. This year's didn't. But this year's team was more of a team, the Harvard coaches said, one that played well together, making use of its disparate and solid talent. For this team, there was a new star every night.

For all its reputation, its great billing, last year's team didn't win a tournament. It finished third in the Beanpot. Third in the ECAC. Second in the NCAA. Yet last year's team will be remembered as the great team, the team that nearly brought Harvard its first NCAA Championship in 80 years.

This year's team came in fourth in both the Beanpot and NCAA. But it won the ECAC Tournament. Won big. Just remember that. Peter Chiarelli will.