Beanpot Mystique

The last image of yesterday's Beanpot luncheon was a simple one.

A frozen Charles. A phone call from BU captain Bill Pierce to Harvard captain Ashlin Halfnight, from BC captain Joe Harney to Northeastern captain Rick Shuhwerk. A plan to meet on the river ice and play out the opening round of the Beanpot tournament, absent the media and Fleet-Center crowd.

The luncheon's final speaker, who brought this image to bear on the sated crowd at Legend's restaurant, evoked the tournament's 45-year tradition. At the end of the luncheon, as it was at the beginning of the Beanpot, the priority was the game, the tournament determinative of Boston hockey bragging rights.

Without the media, without the commercialism, without the luncheon, the players would still find a way to play even if it meant braving the elements. The simple virtues of the Beanpot, the rivalries of the four Boston-based schools, would shine through even in the dark.

For two consecutive Mondays in February, the Hub diverts its attention away from the Celtics and the Bruins to focus on college hockey.

With the exception of the NCAA tournament, the Beanpot is the most media-intense event for the icemen of Harvard, BU, BC and Northeastern.

The irony, however, is that the tournament is a throwback. A tradition-laden affair that all four captains remember watching as children with their fathers.

There is no need for iridescent pucks or pyrotechnics; the Beanpot mystique is strong enough to stand on its own.

The desire of Boston's college hockey players to face-off is borne every year in the dreams of five-year-old boys sitting in the stands or watching from the distance of Toronto.

The beanpot and its eponymous tournament will always be Boston symbols, evocative of a tradition as simple and alluring as a pick-up game on the frozen Charles.