Pathetically Peppy?

Here’s something you probably don’t know: Harvard has a (not so shitty!) men’s hockey team.

I recently found myself at the Beanpot, an annual hockey tournament between Boston College, Boston University, Harvard, and Northeastern. It was probably the closest I’d been to an ice rink since the second grade, when I quit skating after a traumatizing two-week stint with an impatient instructor. We had different philosophies about encouragement.

The arena was packed—with BU fans, with BC fans, with Northeastern fans. Representing Harvard? Two small rows of band.

I’m not going to call myself a super sports fan. I left the Harvard-Yale tailgate because I was cold, and, even after much explanation, I have no idea what a “down” is. It doesn’t make sense, and I refuse to believe otherwise.

I also have little pep. Like almost everyone else at this school, I enjoy two things: G-chat and complaining. Usually, both at the same time.

But watching these other schools cheer, I kind of wished more Harvard people were there. There I was, wearing the Harvard sweatshirt that I bought during pre-frosh weekend, excited by the Leverett 80’s dance and the Scrabble I played with my host. For the first time since then, I was wearing it out of school spirit, and not because I needed to do laundry.

Listen: we have no mascot. We can never have a mascot because our teams are idiotically named after a color. We’re at a serious deficit at these games already.

So even though I’m a whining champ, even though there are ants infesting my room in a school richer than most countries, even though Eliot dinner runs out around 6:15, even though I think the Core Office loves it when I hate my classes, I am going to get over myself and relive my pre-frosh excitement.

Go Harvard, damn it.