THE COMMISH: Lynah Fans Come Prepared

ITHACA, N.Y.—The apparent ringleader of my section settled in about six seats to my left and one row down. At 6:45, he was already numerous drinks into his evening and made sure to keep a flask constantly at the ready in his right hand.

Wearing a creative “Fuck Harvard” t-shirt, he began launching insults and expletives even before the Zamboni left the ice. He started off nice and simple. Alternating between “Harvard sucks” chants and swigs from his right hand, he yelled at no one in particular and with little response from the other Big Red faithful.

But as the clock inched closer to 7:00 and the Zamboni disappeared behind the near boards, the chants got louder, more unison and more vicious.

This was a world away from the relatively calm confines of Bright Hockey Center. Submerged in enemy territory, I was ready to see first hand what everyone was talking about.

Let the pandemonium begin.

Lynah Rink, Ithaca, N.Y. has one of the best atmospheres in college hockey and is home of the Cornell Big Red. On top of that, Cornell’s raucous home ice has turned into a house of horrors for Harvard men’s hockey in recent years.

The Big Red has dominated the Crimson in Ithaca, winning the last four meetings at Lynah including Friday night’s 2-0 impressive showing.

The Big Red fan base is faithful and vocal. Getting a ticket to a game is no easier than finding a way inside Cameron Indoor at Duke.

Students camp out two or three nights before tickets go on sale at the beginning of the season to secure their spots inside Lynah. Trying to find a spare ticket from a friend if you don’t have season tickets of your own just won’t happen.

College hockey is serious business in Ithaca, and the Cornell fans come prepared to let everyone—especially the Harvard players—know about it.

The first sign of craziness comes when the Crimson players are introduced and fish rain down from the stands onto the ice. The tradition of throwing fish had gotten so problematic a few years ago, that the security guards now check bags and search students before entering the rink.

But students appeared able to subvert the added security measures. One girl told me that a lot of people put the fish down their pants and bring them in “because the security doesn’t search there.”

Totally disgusting I know, but nonetheless dedicated and creative.

In fact, many of the jeers and chants coming from the stands took some forethought and research. Apparently taking rigorous classes at Cornell’s School of Hotel Management such as “Introduction to Valet” and “Check Out 101”—which incidentally must be more difficult than one would think, since it took two Cornell students 20 minutes to check me out the morning after the game—leaves plenty of time to plan for upcoming hockey games.

As the game got rolling, our ringleader pulled out a white piece of paper which held his pre-arranged insults and began what would be two hours of non-stop yelling.

When sophomore defenseman Dylan Reese skated close to the boards, he yelled out, “I ate Reese’s pieces for dinner”—oblivious to the fact that Reese’s parents sat just a few seats away from him.

When freshman forward Dave Watters fired the puck down ice he searched through his notes and came up with, “Conserve Watters, keep him on the bench.”

The typical hockey jeers were there as well, with senior goaltender Dov Grumet-Morris taking most of the heat.

After Cornell’s first goal and the ensuing “It’s all your fault” rant, one Big Red fan passed around a phone number he claimed to be for Grumet-Morris’s mother. As copies of the number floated around the rink, fans began chanting the number in unison.

No word on whether the number was truly that of the goalie’s mother.

As the game moved deep into the third period, the ringleader in my section appeared to be losing steam. With his voice strength fading and his flask apparently empty, he became slightly more subdued—content in the comfort of Cornell’s 2-0 lead.

But as the final seconds ticked away, he managed the strength for one final insult.

“I’ve been here for five years,” he stammered, “And I know by now that you guys just suck.”

Five years? Like I said, check out must be a lot more complicated than you would think.

—Staff writer David H. Stearns can be reached at stearns@fas.harvard.edu.