PARTING SHOTS: One Last Verse From 'King'

After four years as a writer for The Crimson, this is it.

And while this column is usually used to provide the writer with one last chance to express those unspoken thoughts that have been building over the years, I have to be completely honest.

I don’t have much left to say.

So, rather than taking one last new shot at those elements which have so thoroughly disturbed me during my time here, I’d love to take this opportunity to re-write the past. As a columnist, I got some stuff right, and even more stuff wrong. My final act will be to expose the latter, and in a move that is seemingly out of touch with journalistic practices, make a huge deal out of the corrections.

“In a column published in the Cornell Daily Sun, staff writer Tim Kuhls broached an interesting topic of Ivy debate—athletic scholarships—and proceeded to make himself look like an idiot.” (9/30/2005)

Soon after publishing this column, in which I raked Kuhls through the fire for dismissing the athletic scholarship argument with the overly simplistic comment that “we don’t admit retards at my school,” I received a backlash of negative responses from our Ivy brethren in the boonies of upstate New York.

Most of those e-mails consisted of glowing recommendations of how great a person Kuhls was and how fun he was to hang around with. If I only knew how cool he was, they continued, I never would have called him out like that. And so I apologize to Mr. Kuhls. Your argument was idiotic. But some people think you’re really swell.

“In a head-to-head matchup, I’m convinced that the only remaining team that would definitely beat the Crimson is Furman. Montana might also be a slight favorite depending on the location of the game.” (9/30/2004)

Two things are important to note here.

First, people from Montana apparently read The Crimson. Second, they like sending mail. Lots of mail. (This, of course, shouldn’t be a surprise to any Harvard student who is aware of his or her alumni base.)

While I still firmly believe that the 2004 Harvard squad could have beaten every team in I-AA (even Furman, now that I look back on it), I will concede the following point. If you’re going to make a crack about a Montana anything, don’t include contact information.

“For those of you who remain unconvinced—those of you that will consider this season a success if Harvard can just sweep Columbia—I’ll be waiting to see the expression on your face when this team far exceeds your lowly expectations.” (11/19/2003)

I never got to see that face.

The 2003-2004 version of the Harvard men’s basketball team went 4-23, including an 11-game losing streak to start the season. It allowed four teams to top the 100-point mark, something it hadn’t let any opponent do in over a decade. And yet, it still managed to come as close to beating eventual league champion Princeton at Jadwin Gym as any Crimson team had since Harvard’s last win there in 1989.

Some people might also point out that my prediction for this past season also bombed incredibly. Those people are mean (and correct).

“That’s right, the eight grim reapers of the Ivies will come together for their annual meeting in which they discuss what ‘excesses’ need to be slashed from the realm of sports.” (5/7/2004)

And finally, the group to which I owe the most profuse apologies: the Ivy presidents.

While their aloof, athletic McCarthyism towards high profile sports has failed to achieve the ultimate goal of reducing the level of competition to the point that a move to Division III would be acceptable or prudent, it provided me with basically all of my column material during my time here.

Did words like “jackasses” and “grim reapers” go a bit overboard? Probably. The presidents aren’t lethal; they’re just a nuisance. Thus, I think an analogy including the term “syphilis” would have been far more descriptive—and possibly more accurate.

Over the past four years, it has been a pleasure working with my associates at The Crimson, the Harvard athletic administrators and coaches, and Crimson athletes.

Despite my well-publicized differences with several Ivy League athletic policies, I remained convinced that in general, the league does collegiate sports the right way. It’s a competitive and intriguing product that has won me over as a fan for life. And while league supporters may banter about recruiting restrictions, athletic scholarships, and Academic Index floors, there’s very little the Ivy League could do to make me a bigger fan.

Well, of course, unless the I-AA playoffs are on the table.

—Staff writer Michael R. James can be reached at michael.james@post.harvard.edu.