Miller Time!

Sports, not academics, provide the public face for a university, said Sports Illustrated in the April 28, 1997 issue.

Much effort has been made over the past four years in this paper to dissect the problem of Harvard's lack of so-called "normal" attendance figures. But perhaps another number should be listed when the attendance is cited--the number of campus reporters present.

Harvard has 41 varsity sports, more than any other college in the country.

Harvard has produced multiple national champions in the last decade. Would you like me to name a few? How about the 1990 women's lacrosse national champions? How about multiple consecutive national titles for the men's and women's squash teams? Of course the most visible title of all is that of the 1989 men's hockey team, which brought world hockey reknown to Bright Hockey Center.

But despite the efforts of the sports information office and the relentless (and often tireless) staffs of campus media. Harvard still has major problems attracting reporters to cover these athletic events.

Perhaps this problem stems from Harvard's own focus on athletics--after all, no other school comes close to offering 41 varsity sports, and only next year will a university come within five (Princeton, with 38). Perhaps as a result, campus media does not report on every single significant athletic event, and thus ultimately fails.

But why, and how? Are there not enough interested sportswriters on campus, eager to step into the role of team spokesperson?

Perhaps the sportswriting trend is cyclical, and with every new crop an extra 1,600 possible recruits set foot in Cambridge. But glance through this commencement issue of the Crimson and you will see the same names over and over again--what does this mean for the future of sportswriting at Harvard? Or to take the issue to its logical conclusion--what will the future bring for the image of Harvard as the ideal athletic/academic balance?

Like it or not, sportswriters play an intimate role in the image of sports teams on campus--when the Harvard men's hockey team succeeds, three reporters are often assigned to cover each contest.

The Duke and Syracuse college newspapers and radio stations are swamped with students eager to get involved with sports journalism--at Harvard, only eight people will be responsible for broadcasting Harvard football, basketball, hockey and assorted baseball games on WHRB next year. Are we really that much more studious?

Unfortunately sports media at Harvard seem poised on a threshold, since many reporters on The Crimson are graduating. Thus, in the age of diversity, perhaps it is time to address Harvard admissions--more sports journalists!

For a university priding itself on its Division I athletes, its number of passionate reporters pales in comparison. But we can also look within our Ivy walls; for those who care deeply about sports, reporting for a team can lead them to "experience much of the same emotions" that the team does, according to hockey coach Ronn Tomassoni. This, I assure you, is a good thing, especially for those who reached their athletic prime in high school.

Many writers will hasten to recount their favorite moments in these final, parting words. Most will labor over dramatic championship moments, others will dramatize the rags-to-riches story. I will leave you with only one--a regular season hockey game, a 2-1 win for the Crimson.

The game wasn't overly dramatic or heart-wrenching, nor did it have any major effect on the league standings. But it was won because of a single, flailing, smelly catfish. Imagine the possibility of sitting in front of an entire city, lavishly telling the tale as if a Greek epic. Imagine sports journalism.

If I ask too much, then may all newspapers be done away with, and may television overtake the world of media. But while there are still written words to substitute for pictures, then come one, come all. I guarantee you won't be disappointed.