Game of the Year: Football vs. Dartmouth, A Comeback for the Ages
It was a perfect pass.
Suspended in mid-air, suspended in time, the football hung in the late October chill of Harvard Stadium.
Hordes of helmeted players lined either side of the field. Dartmouth was in white, green, and black. Harvard in black and crimson.
Behind them rose rows of spectators. The temperature had dipped below comfort, but most of the 13,058 remained, arranged in coliseum orderliness and waiting for a moment such as this one to happen.
Somehow, in the vast choreography, Big Green wide receiver Victor Williams stood alone in the end zone. The pass was intended for him, and he cocked his chin up to follow the arc of the ball.
The senior was hardly used to catching passes in these conditions—cold New England nights before thousands of strangers. He was raised in Muskogee, the 11th largest city in Oklahoma, and played for his local public school. Even there, he was undersized; as it turned out, a 5’9” football player was a shrimp in any sea, Muskogee or otherwise.
But Williams had those two key ingredients, natural talent and drive. He was a black belt in karate. A hurdler and 100-meter sprinter. An engineering major at Dartmouth, which was rare among his gridiron teammates.
On the field, he made a living off quick feet and sharp routes. So far that season, he was averaging over 109 receiving yards per game. As small as 5’9” might have seemed, few coaches could bear to overlook him these days.
Certainly, many eyes were on him now as he waited for the ball to drop. Footsteps approached, gasps and cheers bounced around the horseshoe, and inch by inch, the ball drifted downwards.
Finally Victor Williams reached out his hands.
***
As soon as the final champagne cork had settled to the ground following Harvard’s 2014 triumph over Yale, a single date loomed for the 2015 Crimson squad.
It was October 30, 2015, meaning the matchup with the Big Green.
“It was the one I had marked on my calendar,” senior wide receiver Seitu Smith said. “You don’t want to get too wound up in the fact that it’s going to be a tougher opponent… [but] we couldn’t have asked for a better matchup.”
In 2014, Harvard had escaped Hanover with a 23-12 victory, handing Dartmouth its only loss of the season and putting the hosts’ title in jeopardy.
The next week, jeopardy became reality when the Crimson squeaked past the Bulldogs, simultaneously capping an undefeated season and denying the Big Green a share of the trophy.
Such deep wounds scar but do not disappear. Heading into 2015, Dartmouth espoused a single aim—to win its first Ancient Eight championships since 1996—and therefore courted a single opponent—Harvard.
Media pundits recognized this hunger, as well as the talent that Dartmouth returned. A preseason poll picked the Crimson and the Big Green to finish one-two.
The start of play bore out these expectations. In the six games leading up to the climactic showdown, neither team lost.
The Crimson frolicked from rout to rout, averaging 44 points over the first six weeks and holding four straight teams to seven or fewer points.
Meanwhile, Dartmouth put up no less than 30 points per outing. While a 13-9 victory over Columbia on Oct. 24 provided unexpected tension, the Big Green never trailed in that contest and held on despite 17 penalties for 161 yards.
“We all knew that this was going to be the premier matchup of the season, especially with the way games were going with our previous opponents,” senior linebacker Jacob Lindsey said. “We were blowing everyone out.”
By the time week six rolled around, a perfect storm of stakes, history, and success had formed. The matchup was scheduled for a Friday night, the first time Dartmouth kicked off on a Friday evening since the 19th century.
More than that, the Big Green had lost 11 straight to Harvard. More than that, the Crimson was riding a 20-game winning streak. More than that, both teams had undefeated records, and the winner seemed destined to take the Ivy League.
In any season, Harvard-Yale matters a great deal. But in 2015, with everything on the line, Harvard-Dartmouth was The Game.
***
Just past 7:30 p.m. on October 30, kicker Kenny Smart raised his hand above the redone turf of Harvard Stadium and advanced toward the tee. Then the ball was in the air. Above the screams and sudden chaos, the scoreboard gleamed: Crimson 0, Big Green 0.
That scoreless draw held for less than three minutes. On the strength of a 43-yard strike from Dartmouth quarterback Dalyn Williams, the visitors advanced across midfield.
Huffing and puffing, the Harvard defense called a timeout to ready a last stand. Sophomore linebacker Luke Hutton provided the crucial play, causing a third-down incompletion and forcing the Big Green to settle for a 33-yard field goal.
“We came out flat as a team, actually,” Lindsey said. “Personally I was wasting a lot of energy during the day just getting psyched about it.”
To many teams, especially the few that put up over 40 points a game, a field goal deficit might have occasioned nothing more than a blink. But for the Crimson defense, three points was nearly half of what the team was accustomed to yielding.
Through the first six games, Harvard led the country with seven points allowed per outing. That stinginess carried over from 2014, when the Crimson topped all programs in scoring defense.
If the defense powered the program, then the linebacker trio of Matt Koran, Eric Medes, and Jacob Lindsey powered the defense. All weighing at least 210 pounds, the three players ranked one-two-three in tackles for Harvard and generally played as many snaps as their lungs could handle.
Medes was the most experienced, a three-year starter out of St. Joseph’s Prep in Philadelphia who had topped the Harvard roster in tackles as a sophomore.
Lindsey was the most athletic—a title substantiated by his appearance on the All-Ivy second team in 2014.
Meanwhile, by popular decree of players, Koran was the most leader-like. At the end of last fall, teammates named him the 2015 captain, the 11th straight defensive player to man the position.
A tremendous wrestler and catcher in high school, Koran stood three inches shorter than Medes and Lindsey but tackled with ferocity. He wore great amounts of eye black, and by the end of most games, that color smeared his cheeks.
In short, this 4-3 defense was not a unit comfortable with early deficits—which made what came next even more surprising.
Starting with 10:13 left in the first quarter, the Big Green mounted the most dominating drive of its season. The possession began at the Dartmouth six and lasted 7:24.
On the 17th and final play, running back Ryder Stone took a handoff and plunged through the center of the defense. He landed in the end zone, clutching the ball and a 10-0 lead.
A few yards behind him, Williams raised his arms in touchdown formation.
It was a familiar pose for the senior, who had started games for the Big Green since arriving as a rookie. Growing up in a suburb of Dallas, he had played at Lake Dallas High School, a 5A program with a football stadium in the shadow of a water tower.
That preparation impressed Dartmouth coaches enough to entrust responsibility to the young play-caller, and he responded by winning Ivy League Rookie of the Year. These days he was team captain and averaging 318 yards of total offense per game.
“We just have to line up as an offense and execute,” he had told the newspaper The Dartmouth prior to the game; less than 15 minutes into play, this was exactly what the Big Green was doing.
***
As Williams and company marched up and down the field, the Harvard offense remained stagnant—either stuck on the sidelines or entrenched on the field.
The team’s first drive had stalled at the Dartmouth 41. Then the score was 3-0; now it was 10-0, and an air of desperation smothered the sidelines.
The Crimson responded on the ground. Taking a handoff, senior wide receiver Seitu Smith ate up 20 yards, and soon enough the Crimson faced a first and goal from the five, seemingly ready to hit back at Dartmouth’s defense.
A word about that defensive unit: those guys could play. In late August, exactly half of the players on the Preseason All-Ivy first team defense hailed from the Big Green. Midway through 2015, the group had met this billing, holding opponents to nine points per outing, second only to Harvard in all of FCS football.
Little surprise, then, that two straight rushes by Stanton lost nine yards, leading to a field goal attempt.
As it turned out, “attempt” was the right word. A blocked kick preserved the clean sheet, and the pigskin was returned to the Harvard 26. In the Crimson fan section, cathedral silence accompanied the development.
With a rush and two passes, Williams the quarterback turned a tough situation even tougher, setting up first-and-goal from the one for Dartmouth. Painfully, almost comically, a Crimson substitution penalty moved the ball one-and-a-half feet closer.
But against statistical odds and mounting momentum, the defense held, forcing a 22-yard field goal try. Remarkably that kick sailed wide left, keeping the score at 10-0.
On the Big Green sideline, senior linebacker Will McNamara watched with rapt attention, if not grudging admiration.
The 235-pound tank knew a thing or two about goal-line stands. A unanimous All-Ivy first teamer as a junior, McNamara had been named the Preseason Defensive Player of the Year. With chiseled muscles that exploded from jersey sleeves and red-blonde hair that curled outside his helmet, he resembled a Greek statue as much as a college player.
Now it was his turn to make a play.
Starting at its own 13 with 3:45 left in the half, the Crimson zoomed ahead thanks to a 53-yard bomb to senior receiver Andrew Fischer. After some offensive sputtering, 19 seconds remained in the half. The ball was on the 15. Crowd noise was nearing lawnmower levels.
Crouching under center, Hosch collected the ball and scanned the end zone. With one soft twist, he flipped the ball over the middle—and right into the hulking figure of McNamara, who was waiting at the five-yard line.
As the groans of the home crowd floated into the sky, the two teams split for their locker rooms. Above them, the silent scoreboard still loomed: Dartmouth 10, Harvard 0.
One half of all-deciding football had been played. Another half remained.
***
As a freshman, wide receiver Andrew Fischer wore No. 32 for the Crimson. Rookies got last pick of jersey number, and by the time his name came up, No. 32 was the best option remaining.
These days, though, he claimed a shirt number closer to his heart: No. 1.
Talkative and buoyant, Fischer laughed a lot and had a smile that scrunched his eyes.
On the field, that energy remained. As former quarterback Conner Hempel put it: There was fast, and then there was “Fischer fast.” A top-25 hurdler in high school, he dazzled opponents with a combination of speed and body control.
For many Crimson fans, his career reduced to a single instance of athleticism: mid-afternoon on Nov. 22, 2014, when he outran his Yale defender and hauled in the winning score with 55 seconds left.
A year later, the lesson from that contest remained: Speed wows, speed excites, and speed can change games.
When the second-half whistle blew, all Fischer needed was a couple of blocks and a glimmer of open turf to return the kick 53 yards. He came up howling. New life in the horseshoe.
Three plays later, the Crimson faced a fourth-and-six from the Big Green 31—the first of many moments that would feel decisive.
As usual, quarterback Scott Hosch shouldered the responsibility.
It was not hyperbolic to say that, up to this point, he had never let his team down: Heading into the Dartmouth matchup, he had never lost a college game.
But Hosch hardly fit the mold of a hotshot play-caller. He had emerged in 2014 only after an injury consigned Hempel to the sidelines. Now a senior, the Georgia native possessed neither a cannon arm nor exceptional athleticism.
Instead, what he did possess was quiet self-confidence that emerged as nonchalance. A three-time captain in high school, Hosch thrived by making good decisions—or, more precisely, by not making bad ones.
However, facing a key fourth down, a bad decision was exactly what he made. Rolling right, Hosch twisted across his body and flicked a pass over the middle.
For the second time that evening, the throw dropped into the hands of McNamara. So great was the senior’s excitement, and so loud was the Dartmouth crowd, that he nearly bulldozed Harvard running back Paul Stanton Jr. before falling to the ground.
Less than 28 minutes remained, and an offense averaging 44 points per game had yet to score a single one.
***
All season Harvard made stops with low stakes, when the offense had already put up four or five touchdowns. Tonight, obviously, was different.
This first Dartmouth possession of the half presented the first test. And aided by two holding penalties, the Crimson passed, limiting the Big Green to its side of the field. Punt.
Perhaps now was the time for Harvard to put points on the board. Certainly, a trio of completions to tight end Ben Braunecker raised that hope, as the Crimson marched to the Dartmouth 17.
First and 10 in the red zone. Three-year starter Paul Stanton Jr. was lined up in the backfield.
A Louisiana prospect, Stanton had dreamed of going to a local school—possibly LSU or Tulane—before college recruiters and his 5’9” height intervened. But largely thanks to a 4.4 40-yard dash, he had landed at Harvard, where he had claimed the starter’s role since sophomore year.
Now the senior grabbed the ball, looking to inject some energy into a moribund offseason. Instead a Big Green player slammed in, causing Stanton to bobble the carry. The ball popped loose and fell to the turf; players dropped to the ground.
Moments later, a straight-armed umpire confirmed what the stadium had suspected: a third Harvard turnover in Dartmouth territory.
“It felt like we couldn’t get a break,” Lindsey said. “It was kind of hopeless for a while, but at the same time, you have to put your head down and do everything you can.”
Energized by the turn of events, Williams pranced onto the field.
Suddenly, he could not miss a throw. Four straight completions advanced his team to the Crimson 27, and the Big Green lined up for a first down.
Harvard, to put it mildly, was in disarray. Four times, the offense had seemed on the verge of score, and each time some calamity (a blocked field goal, an interception, an interception, and a fumble) had derailed the attempt. What more could the Crimson do?
On the other side, Dartmouth’s offense seemed able to move the ball at will—something no Harvard opponent had been able to do so far. With the score still at 10-0, with the Big Green threatening to add more, and with the clock suddenly becoming a factor, hope had retreated to the back row.
Let us watch, then, with removed attention as Dalyn Williams slaps his hands and spreads the Dartmouth offense. Across the line, Lindsey and his fellow linebackers crouch in position.
The ball snaps, and Williams takes a few jab steps back before opening his hips to chuck a screen to wide receiver Ryan McManus.
McManus does not cross the line of scrimmage. Instead, he grips the ball by the laces, pivots, and lofts a 27-yard pass to the end zone, where Victor Williams stands alone.
Suspended in mid-air, suspended in time, the football hangs in the late October chill of Harvard stadium.
The eyes of the stadium are on Williams now as he waits for the pass to drop. Footsteps approach, gasps and cheers bounce around the horseshoe, and inch by inch, the ball drifts downwards.
Finally Victor Williams reaches out his hands.
And he drops the ball.
“If we were supposed to lose that game, he would’ve caught that pass,” Smith said. “I remember saying, ‘Oh, we’re going to win this game now.’”
***
If linebackers Koran, Medes, and Lindsey formed the heart of the Harvard defense, then offensive linemen Cole Toner, Anthony Fabiano, and Adam Redmond formed the heart of the offense.
All three men stood at least 6’5” and weighed at least 290 pounds. But as large as the unit was in stature, the group loomed even larger in impact.
In 2014, the Crimson finished second in the FCS in tackles for loss allowed and yards per rush. Those metrics hinted at the effectiveness of the bunch—a crew of individuals that stuck together on and off the field.
After the 2015 season, all three signed with NFL teams. Toner, a government concentrator with quick hands and a quicker mind, went in the fifth round to the Arizona Cardinals. The Ohio native Redmond signed with the Indianapolis Colts, and the eminently quotable Fabiano did the same with the Baltimore Ravens.
But against Dartmouth, at least for the moment, the trio only mattered as a group. Collectively they formed the last line of defense against the veteran Big Green front line.
Early in the fourth quarter, they took on an additional role: three-headed battering ram.
With 11 minutes remaining to play, Dartmouth held a 13-0 lead. Although Williams let that sure-fire touchdown slip through his hands, the possession did not end on that play. Two quarters after missing a 22-yard chip shot, Dartmouth kicker Alek Gakenheimer earned a measure of redemption by nailing a 39-yarder.
“We were just sitting there looking at the clock,” Smith said. “We’re thinking, ‘The clock’s winding down, we’re down two touchdowns, [and] this one doesn’t look like it’s going to be good. This was supposed to be our year.’”
But six minutes after the field goal, Harvard held the ball. More than that, the team stood on the Big Green’s one-yard line. Suddenly it was up to the veteran front line to finish the deal.
On first down, Stanton rushed for no gain.
Still present and yelling, the Big Green fan section reached a higher octave. Surely nothing could be more dominating than a stand at the one-yard line—a mano-a-mano stop in the fourth quarter with the visitors up 13-0.
On second down, Hosch rushed for no gain.
Right as Hosch was slamming to the ground, the referees called a late offsides penalty on the defense, giving the Crimson another chance to run the play. As it turned out, Harvard elected to work through Hosch again.
On the re-done second down, Hosch rushed for no gain.
Crucial seconds ticked off the scoreboard. With each rush call, the Crimson kept the clock running, raising the stakes of a score right here and now.
On third down, Stanton rushed for no gain.
Toner, Redmond, and Fabiano were tired. Three times, they had bent their knees only to see the ball move minimally, if at all. They faced a wall, and the wall was not moving.
Now, with the screams of fans reverberating around the coliseum, Murphy faced a decision: to run again through the stuffed middle or risk a pass? He relayed his instructions to Hosch, who convened the huddle.
Harvard came out in power formation, foreshadowing a run. And a run it was: Hosch pushed against the backs of his senior linemen before spinning away to dive for the goal line.
He came up short, again. No gain.
Half the stadium exploded in the loudest cheers of the night. The Dartmouth bench stormed partway onto the field, colliding with victorious defenders and yelling themselves.
It was a remarkable display of grit, willpower, determination and prowess—any intangibles applied. After the game, Dartmouth coach Buddy Teevens would say that he would never forget that stop.
For the Crimson, the emotion yielded to a cruel reality. Roughly 10 minutes remained, the score was 13-0, and the Big Green defense had just prevented Harvard from gaining a yard on five consecutive plays.
Maybe, just maybe, the luck of a magical 20-0 run had run out.
***
Senior wide receiver Seitu Smith learned to run routes in the hills of Florida. His dad did the teaching, and along with his younger brother, Semar, who would join Harvard football in 2014, Smith was a ready pupil.
By the team he reached high school, Smith was a bruising rusher with a touch of finesse. He emerged as a top-100 player in South Florida and earned attention from such big-time programs as the University of Alabama and the University of Michigan.
But Smith’s mother also had something to teach her son. Born and raised in the Philippines, she had always stressed the importance of education. Now that Smith was weighing college options, she pushed him firmly in the direction of the Crimson.
So Smith appeared on campus in 2011 as a kick returner and all-around athlete. He averaged 30 yards per go, including a 91-yard score on Freshman Parents’ Weekend.
Mid-college injuries limited some of that potential and forced Smith to stick around for five years. But by the time he lined up across from his Dartmouth defender, the fact remained: he was a high-caliber player with a track record of big plays.
By then the Crimson faced a third-and-12 from the Big Green 39. Backpedaling, Hosch tried to find freshman wide receiver Justice Shelton-Mosley, but the toss fell to the turf.
It was now fourth-and-12, in a two-possession game, with less than seven minutes remaining.
“That was one of my first plays as receiver that game,” Smith said. “I started at running back.”
The play call was all verticals—a series of straight-line sprints. But as the team broke the huddle, Hosch gave Smith more specific instructions: to give a stop-and-go to try to drop the defender. Smith agreed.
The ball snapped. Smith broke the line. He hesitated and pumped his arms. He looked up.
The pass was in the air—high and spinning. Just a half-step back, Smith’s defender put his hand up and leapt to defend the ball; Smith leapt too. Then everything crashed to the ground, leveling the pylon and kicking up turf pellets.
“He put it where only I could catch it,” Smith said. “There was no sound at first.”
Although Smith clutched the ball to his chest, it was not until the referee deliberated and raised his arms that the news traveled around the stadium.
Finally, after 53 minutes of play, something had broken in Harvard’s favor.
***
Temporary elation aside, the score still stood at 13-7 with 6:38 left, and Dartmouth owned possession. The Crimson needed to prevent first downs in order to have even a slim chance of victory.
The defensive stop, it turned out, was relatively simple. Mirroring early-season form, Harvard held the visitors to a single first down. The ensuing punt placed the ball at the 20 with 4:26 left. Time to work.
But the Big Green defense had other plans. Smarting from Smith’s miraculous grab, Dartmouth stonewalled the Crimson on three straight plays.
Another decision confronted Murphy: whether to risk a fourth down deep in Big Green territory (in which case failure would likely end the game) or to punt the ball and pray for a defensive stop (in which case two or three first downs would likely end the game).
He chose to punt. With 3:43 left, Harvard’s defense trudged onto the field, either to mount a last stand or concede the hard-played game.
For Dartmouth the task of closing out the contest fell to compact running back Ryder Stone. The son of a ranch foreman, Stone stood 5’11,” weighed 205, and ran with the grinding inevitability of a bowling ball. All he needed to do now was push through a few exhausted defenders, and the much-coveted victory belonged to the Big Green.
Standing in his way was Lindsey. A two-year starter, the senior talked slowly, projecting a casual-yet-deliberate demeanor.
This appearance belied his on-field energy. Earlier that season, Murphy had called Lindsey perhaps the most athletic linebacker in the league.
This night, the result of the contest hinged on whether Lindsey’s conditioning was strong enough to withstand the previous three-and-a-half quarters.
Dartmouth’s possession opened with a pass—a 15-yard dart that moved the team near midfield. Less than three minutes remained, and the Big Green held the ball on the 49.
On first down, Williams advanced to the line only to call an audible. The new play was a speed option, designed so that Williams would rush to the outside before pitching the ball to Stone.
So Williams did: He grasped the snap and flipped it to his running back. Across the line, Lindsey tracked the toss and headed for Stone.
“We had a good idea of what they were going to do pre-snap given their motion,” Lindsey said. “I couldn’t see the ball on contact. I just tried to hit him as hard as I could and pop the ball out.”
When the two players collided, it was a hard hit: Lindsey smashed into Stone from behind, jarring the sophomore’s body.
It all took place in front of the Harvard sideline, meaning that the whole team had a good view. The players saw the option and saw the hit. A second later, they saw the ball pop into the air and settle onto the turf. An unambiguous fumble.
As junior defensive lineman Langston Ward dove on the ball, the sideline hopped up and down in childish glee. Headsets fell to the ground, and arms pumped. The referee waved his hands and chopped his arm.
“There was no doubt at that time,” Smith said.
Improbably, after all the mistakes and misfortunes, the Crimson had possession with a chance to take the lead.
***
Svelte and soft-spoken, Justice Shelton-Mosley pretty much resembled a typical freshman receiver. He wore No. 17—like Fischer’s No. 32, not a popular pick—and during warm-ups, his size made you wonder whether it was safe for him to jog around a field full of 220-pound linebackers. Then play began.
In his very first college game, Shelton-Mosley’s very first catch was also his very first touchdown: He skipped past his cover and caught a bomb in the end zone with space to spare.
That start prefaced a season of unusual highlights—unusual because Murphy was normally hesitant to play freshmen at all.
Needless to say, with the Crimson looking to consummate the Dartmouth comeback, the lithe rookie was on the field.
As exciting as the fumble might have been, there was still the matter of scoring a touchdown against the second-best defense in all of college football. More, Harvard had just 2:54 to do so.
For seven plays, Hosch alternated completions with incompletions, trading yards for seconds.
Finally, less than a minute remained, and Harvard held the ball inside the 10. First-and-goal against a physical defense. All spectators out of their seats.
On first down, the Big Green stuffed Stanton for a two-yard gain. Second down saw a different play call, but the result was the same as a pass to Smith went for two yards before the senior tumbled out of bounds.
Fifty-nine minutes of boxing had come down to a pair of jabs. Assuming no improbable turnovers, the Crimson had two chances either to punch home the victory or collapse in exhausted defeat.
In the end, it took only one try. Hosch rolled to his right, Stanton headed for the pylon, and a swarm of defenders followed the running back. Meanwhile, in the middle of the end zone, Shelton-Mosley stood as still as a statue.
“It was a big moment for a freshman, obviously,” Smith said. “He’s a kid we relied on the whole year, so I’m sure he was ready for it.”
Hosch saw the rookie and zipped the ball there, ignoring heavy traffic. As the pass flew, a Dartmouth defender launched himself in the air, aiming for the hit and the break-up.
Yes to the hit, no to the break-up: Shelton-Mosley grabbed the ball, and he hung on.
***
Thirty-eight seconds. That’s how long the Big Green had to move the ball into field-goal range.
Moments before, Harvard kicker Kenny Smart had lined up for the extra point. Accustomed to the automaticity of professional players, many fans were not aware of the tension of the moment. Already that season, Smart had missed two extra points. With the score tied at 13-13, a made PAT was no guarantee.
But the sophomore proved cool under pressure, nailing the ball through the uprights. Crimson 14, Big Green 13.
Still, 38 seconds remained. Scott Hosch stood on the sideline, not far removed from the trio of Cole Toner, Anthony Fabiano, and Adam Redmond that had protected him all night. They had played their last snaps of the evening; they were spectators now.
So were wide receivers Andrew Fischer and Seitu Smith. On the field, they were No. 1 and No. 2, respectively; off the field, they were blockmates. Win or lose, odds were that the pair would turn to each other—for celebration or support.
Dalyn Williams, Victor Williams, and Ryder Stone—they were all on the field trying to score, with Will McNamara urging them on.
Jake Lindsey, Matt Koran, and Eric Medes—they were all trying to prevent that possibility.
With yells filling the air and lights shining down, the Big Green took the field. And those 38 seconds began counting down.
Starting from the Dartmouth 35 after an out-of-bounds kickoff, Williams the passer found Williams the receiver for 20 yards. This time the Muskogee product held on. First down at the Harvard 45.
Next, Williams threw a dart down the middle to Ryan McManus for 16 yards. First down at the Harvard 29.
One more solid completion would put the Big Green securely in field goal range. But the Crimson secondary stiffened up to force a no-gain screen out of bounds. Still at the 29, less than 10 seconds left.
Electing to try one more play, Williams backpedaled to evade the pass rush. He escaped the pocket but felt additional pressure bearing down on him.
Still dancing around, Williams was letting seconds slide off the scoreboard. It appeared that this play would be the last one. So the quarterback heaved a Hail Mary into the end zone. It sailed and sailed, landing outside the field.
Immediately Harvard players rushed the field. The ball had dropped; the game was over; they had won.
But a referee whistle indicated otherwise: Exactly one second remained on the clock, meaning enough time for a field-goal try, meaning enough time for Crimson heartbreak and Dartmouth redemption.
Harvard players and coaches were livid. A game that ended only to be un-ended? Even on a night full of twists and turns, the development seemed absurd.
But the officials stuck to their call, and the two teams filed to their respective sidelines.
This, truly, would be the last play.
“I was thinking ‘I hope this kick doesn’t go through,’” Smith said. “That was all I could think. We just went through all this. We had a fourth-down touchdown catch, Jake Lindsey pokes out a fumble, and then now they’re going to drive down?”
For the final time that night, Harvard Stadium drowned in immense sound as Dartmouth kicker Alek Gakenheimer prepared for the 46-yard try. He took a few steps back and gazed at the yellow uprights. The arbiters of his fate, they stood a world away, separated by gloom and chill and crowd noise.
“It was do-or-die,” Lindsey said. “I was pretty sure they weren’t going to make it just because of how the game had gone.”
The snap twirled back, the holder planted the ball, and Gakenheimer swung. The ball rose and rose and rose—until, in one violent jolt, it collided with the arm of Crimson defensive lineman Stone Hart.
As screams rose into the sky, the ball tumbled forward, prolonging the game as long as physically possible. Finally a Harvard special teamer converged on the pigskin and ended the night by dinking it out of bounds.
This was not the end of the season, and no championships had been won. But bedlam overcame the stadium. Coaches mixed with players; players mixed with fans. Helmets and water bottles littered the field.
“I was tired,” Lindsey said. “And we were all shocked.”
As chaos enveloped the field, the scoreboard gloomed silently above, just as it had throughout the night. But this time the neon letters displayed a different message.
Harvard 14, Dartmouth 13. And that’s all she wrote.
—Staff writer Sam Danello can be reached at sam.danello@thecrimson.com.