{"id":24401,"date":"2002-02-03T09:15:09","date_gmt":"2002-02-03T15:15:09","guid":{"rendered":"http:\/\/www.uscho.com\/2002\/02\/03\/this-rivalry-really-stinks\/"},"modified":"2010-08-17T19:54:23","modified_gmt":"2010-08-18T00:54:23","slug":"this-rivalry-really-stinks","status":"publish","type":"post","link":"https:\/\/www.uscho.com\/2002\/02\/03\/this-rivalry-really-stinks\/","title":{"rendered":"This Rivalry Really Stinks"},"content":{"rendered":"
Throughout the week, it builds to a crescendo.<\/p>\n
It starts as soon as the previous weekend ends. What kind of fish to buy? Where to buy it? It all needs to be planned in advance. Then the game-day preparations: How to transport the fish? How are we “sneaking” it in? When are we getting there?<\/p>\n
Finally, it’s time to get to the arena, where there’s a little more buzz than usual. Where everyone wants to make sure they are in their seat early this time.<\/p>\n
And then it happens — a moment only four thousand carnelian-red-clad crazies and Douglas Adams could love. The opponent is introduced, and they are met rudely with flying fish. An unsophisticated act of vengeance from this otherwise sophisticated crowd. But this is Harvard — it deserves it. Duty calls.<\/p>\n
And when it’s over, the ice resembles The Spectrum during a Flyers-Bruins game of the ’70s: blood and guts. Fish guts. No matter how much the upperclassmen try to warn them, the Harvard freshmen still look on in awe of the splattered fish guts that streak the ice.<\/p>\n
Yes, this is a rivalry that really stinks. And, no, not because the not-ready-for-prime-time Harvard Crimson were thoroughly outclassed and humiliated by the Big Red this time around — although the stench was quite apropos for Harvard’s performance in Friday night’s affair, the 111th in this storied series.<\/p>\n