On the Brink of Purity

28 February, 2011 3.00 p.m. by Darcy Ireland.

The published recap can be found here.

The official box score can be found here.

“When arrogance appears, disgrace follows,

But wisdom is with those who are unassuming.” - Proverbs 11.2; from Kethuvim

One rainy Friday evening, in a cozy gymnasium in Cambridge, Massachusetts, a significant and noble affair was playing its course. The Tigers of Princeton University had travelled northward to pay a league rival an expected visit, that rival being the Crimson of Harvard University, that acclaimed and highly esteemed Bostonian conservatory of knowledge. The favorite hosting team was being defeated by the visiting squad, 38-41, approximately four minutes’ time of play into the second half. It was at this moment when a time-out was granted at the request of Princeton. During this break in the game, the Harvard student section, as it is wont to do in such an occasion, began to cry a chant of encouragement in unison. “Crimson and WHITE! Crimson and WHITE! Crimson and WHITE!” they declared according to the cue cards of the Harvard cheerleaders. Given the situation the hosting Ivy League institution’s team was currently handling, along with the physical appearance of both it and its eager student section, the Spectator couldn’t help but reconcile what could positively occur for the Crimson with what had unfolded merely thirteen nights prior, when the overconfident and perhaps prideful Crimson were humbled by the tough Tigers 70-62 in New Jersey. The smile on Princeton junior forward Ian Hummer’s face during the concluding seconds of that initial meeting simply meant, “When pride comes, then comes disgrace, but with humility comes wisdom.” The übertalented Harvard Crimson team, universally anointed as the next ruler of the Ivy League, had found its comeuppance in Jadwin Gymnasium. The Crimson suffered a great blemish, which could merely be remedied not through vengeance, but through purification, something Harvard longed to discover that night...

* * *

Indeed, it was quite a rainy evening as an innocuous young Fellow in a tweed jacket emerged from the entrance to the Harvard Square stop of the Red Line of the ‘T’ subway system. The Fellow found a bustling intersection of a number of streets. With about an hour and a half’s time before Princeton would play Harvard, the Fellow searched all about the Square for the site of a specific pizzeria to which he was recommended by an electronic source. Having spent a half-hour’s time in pursuit, the eatery, called Otto Pizza, was located. Here, the boy, valuing what precious time he had to spare, rapidly purchased and subsequently consumed two succulent slices of a concoction called ‘three-cheese tortellini pizza.’ After having eaten his de facto supper, he began the long stroll down John F. Kennedy Street. Southward, the chap walked over the River Charles. Soon, he eyed the athletic buildings of Harvard, including his desired destination, Lavietes Pavilion, an ancient and glorified hall of basketball lore spanning three generations of mankind. Once indoors, the Fellow, not being receptive to the rain, thankfully settled into his seat, which was right behind the media table and quite close to mid-court. With about thirty minutes before the designated tip-off time, his mind soaked in the sights (which included this man, who paced past the observer). He noticed the student section and the Crimson players all were donning white articles of clothing. It must be a white-out event, he pondered. Next, he spotted one certain Princeton Tiger during his team’s shoot-around time. There he is, the Spectator thought as he eyed Mr. Hummer, the primary catalyst of the humiliation of the Crimson merely a fortnight’s time ago. To win this game, the Onlooker further thought, to purify itself of the sin of pride in Jadwin, the Crimson must humble itself and allow itself to be brought lower, which had somewhat happened. Finally, he saw the leftmost section of the bleachers along the opposite wall of the pavilion, which was filled with Princeton supporters. One fan held a wooden sign; on that sign was painted in orange: ‘JADWIN JUNGLE’. For Harvard to win this evening, it must strive for perfection and escape the jungle unharmed. That two-fold task certainly would not be easy...

As surmised beforehand, the anticipated Ivy League game would be grueling but entertaining indeed. The Crimson began with an expected 7-0 lead. Mr. Hummer kept his Tigers competitive and alert, despite Harvard preserving its lead for several minutes. Harvard senior forward Keith Wright received a ‘back-door’ cut to tie the match at 18-18 with under 11 minutes in the first half (ironically enough, given Princetonian basketball is heralded for its infamous usage of the strategic technique). Not long after Princeton subsequently earned a single-digit lead over its ivy-shrouded rival, a significant event occurred. The student section manager raised a white-board, which read: ‘A tight start doesn’t make you strong!’ Haven’t you learned anything relevantly virtuous since that humbling defeat in the forests of north central New Jersey? the Spectator thought. He was right to consider such an inquiry, for the visiting Tigers then roared ahead. Mr. Hummer made a jump shot, granting Princeton an astounding 33-23 lead over the Crimson, which was undefeated at home this season, with five minutes’ time before the half-time. Perhaps the Crimson read the mind of the Spectator or more likely looked to its athleticism to temporarily resuscitate itself. Fueled by the ability to block attempted shots by Harvard junior forward Kyle Casey, who blocked two attempted shots by Mr. Hummer, the Crimson went on a 9-0 run to end the first half of play down a mere point, 32-33. Harvard still had a chance to redeem itself with an entire half of a game to be played. Yet, the Crimson had not found the way to purification in a thrilling first half of a game of basketball. Perhaps the hosting Ivy League team would discover its need sooner than later...

* * *

A conversation in which the Observer participated during the half-time break confirmed some mental assessments of the match-up. Harvard student, and fellow 800-Games Project participant, John Ezekowitz concluded that “Princeton is a terrible match-up for Harvard.” The Spectator had previously seen the problem the Crimson had with the Tigers when on the offensive attack, and thus could concur with Mr. Ezekowitz. As the Observer also pondered, Princeton is the Ivy League team which could most easily lull the Crimson to succumb to an impurity, that is to lose a game. Additionally, Mr. Ezekowitz projected that Harvard head coach Tommy Amaker could leave the university, thus preventing the Crimson from realizing the historically unthinkable concept of constructing Harvard into a legitimately powerful basketball program, despite the stringent and rigorous academic expectations of the university. Although the once far-fetched notion of Cambridge being the home of a nationally-feared college basketball team is now much more realistic, it can only find fruition when both the right people unite and they then pursue their goals through humility and selflessness. Perhaps the shortcoming in New Jersey was necessary for the Crimson to identify how truly arduous the virtuous path to righteous glory is, even if at least one writer calls into question exactly how the program in Cambridge is being operated. So long as the party under the moral microscope is presently innocent in that respect, that being, in this case, the Harvard Crimson, has the privilege to pursue righteousness despite blemish in the fashion of an inevitable loss in an arbitrary season. As the onset of the second half of game-play quickly approached, the Observer believed that the purity the Crimson coveted would be unearthed, much to the chagrin of the Tigers, especially Mr. Hummer, whose smile prompted the idea of Harvard finding its apparent weakness merely thirteen nights prior...

* * *

Before the Spectator fully realized it, that rallying cry during the time-out with only sixteen minutes of game-time remaining began its resound. “Crimson and WHITE!” the Harvard student section screamed in unison. For the Observer, the chant was not only significant but also powerful. Most importantly, that perhaps crucial mantra was even uplifting in an encouraging way, almost as if the students knew of the situation the Spectator envisioned in his mind. The ‘white-out’ was all too appropriate to accompany not only the white outfits the host team donned, but also the sign of that which the Crimson strove for that night, which is purity, typically portrayed by the color white. Despite being down by three points - recall that Princeton was winning the match by the tally of 41-38 - the Crimson realized that they were on the brink of purity, which they desired to achieve through this game. Harvard could find aid through humility, but only if by surrendering to it and allowing it to impact its decision-making and attitude. The Crimson must remember that they play to honor the virtues embraced by the Ivy League, that hallowed hall of simultaneous academic prestige and athletic prowess, but built upon the foundation of wisdom, which embodies lowliness and humility. Perhaps the Crimson would emerge from the stoppage of game-play with a humbled mentality.

“Again, when fortune smiles and the stream of life flows according to our wishes, let us diligently avoid all arrogance, haughtiness, and pride. For it is as much a sign of weakness to give way to one's feelings in success as it is in adversity.” - Cicero, De officiis I. XXVI.

For the moment, Harvard was still unsettled, but not ready to fall again.

With under 11 minutes of time remaining in the latter half of play, Princeton still managed to lead the affair, 50-45. Within a minute afterward, Harvard junior guard Brandyn Curry made a shot, but was fouled in the process, thus establishing a three-point play. After Mr. Curry made the ensuing free-throw shot attempt, Princeton turned the basketball over to Harvard and then fouled Mr. Wright, who calmly made both of his free-throw shot attempts. During the next possession, Harvard clamped down on defense, which pressured Princeton to give up the basketball to the Crimson. Next, Harvard freshman guard/forward Wesley Saunders ran the ball up the court and to the hoop, but missed a rather athletic lay-up attempt. Mr. Saunders was immediately saved by Mr. Wright, who tipped the missed lay-in attempt into the basket, which sent the Harvard faithful into a frenzy of sheer elation. That tip-in shot by Mr. Wright capped a 7-0 Harvard run to convert a 5-point Princeton lead into a 2-point Harvard lead within a single minute of game-play. The Crimson led the Tigers then, 52-50. It was tempting to presume that Harvard had found the redemption it greatly yearned to grasp. But, like a multitude of tribulations in this life, this trial was far from meeting its conclusion. Coach Amaker must have known that the last ten minutes of game-time really meant ten years between then and the end of the match.

The two ivy-shrouded squads essentially traded baskets for the next five minutes of the second half. With about three minutes left, the tenacious defense of the Crimson was cooking so pronouncedly that Mr. Hummer, who had the basketball beneath the basket, was unable to pinpoint a wise shot attempt. In a nice twist of irony, Mr. Hummer was clogged in the lane by the refreshed Harvard defense! With just over a minute remaining, the familiar mantra, which has its basketball origins in a gymnasium in Logan, Utah, was proclaimed in unison by the student section, whose Harvard Crimson team was winning the game by the tally of 59-56, during a substitution time-out. “I BELIEVE THAT WE WILL WIN!” the students repeated - a far cry from the written taunts the Spectator had eyed on the white-board a few sections to his optical right earlier in the match. The last one minute and eighteen seconds of the game would be the conclusion of a thrilling epic, in which Harvard was truly on the brink of purity, while Princeton, led by Mr. Hummer, was oozing with confidence, particularly since it had emerged victorious the last time these two teams had competed against one another. After Princeton senior guard Douglas Davis missed a shot attempt, a Princeton offensive rebound preceded another shot attempt by Mr. Davis, which he made. The tally had altered to a tight 59-58 lead for the hosting Crimson. Soon, Princeton sophomore guard T.J. Brey fouled Mr. Casey with 34 seconds left in the match. Mr. Casey made both free-throw shot attempts, increasing the lead of the Crimson to 61-58. Six Harvard senior guard Oliver McNally free-throw shots and a Princeton 3-point shot later, the tally had ballooned to 67-61 Harvard with merely three seconds before the end of regulation time. Given the amount of time left, Harvard had virtually assured that it had unearthed its desired purity. But the game was not yet over. Mr. Davis used the final possession of the game to sprint the basketball up the court, quickly square up for a 3-point shot attempt from approximately 40 feet from the basket, and nail that shot as the game buzzer echoed its nauseating, but necessary siren throughout the hallowed pavilion.

The game, the tribulation, had finally concluded: Harvard 67, Princeton 64.

A multitude of emotions and states clouded the pavilion as the siren ceased its cry. Relief. Elation. Thankfulness. Satisfaction. Amazement. One could conjure a sizable list to accompany those five named states of being. Not surprisingly, the one which was the most profound and resonated the deepest within the Spectator was purity. As far as the Observer could decipher, the Harvard Crimson finally discovered the necessary state of humility to rightfully conclude the entertaining but arduous affair in victory when its student section reminded them of the symbolic significance of the very hue they donned for the special occasion. Harvard could be thankful for the newness of being found through merciful redemption found after successfully escaping the great tribulation that was matching wits with Princeton. As for the Tigers, they could be grateful they had encouraged the Crimson be teaching them the grueling, but needed, lesson of how truly painful the fall after a bout of haughtiness is, no matter what talents one possesses. They had found the Crimson to be vulnerable, to be mortal, to be the bearer of an Achilles’ heel, as the saying goes. Harvard had cleared the great hurdle the discover the purity needed to cure its blemish, just in time for its next great obstacle. Princeton had gladly obliged as the catalyst for both Harvard’s fall from pride and its revival through beautiful humility.

The Spectator had witnessed quite an enthralling saga that spanned nearly a fortnight’s time. The übertalented Harvard Crimson galloped into the murky and enigmatic Jadwin Jungle, found its comeuppance by the hunter and renowned marksman Mr. Ian Hummer, with great help from his teammates, and discovered its revival and cure by meeting Mr. Hummer and his teammates once again in the hallowed hall that is Lavietes Pavilion. Quite the chronicle amidst the glorious ivies, the Spectator thought as he allowed the rain and darkness of that Friday evening to enrapture and purify him, as he paced northward into the night...

And this is where the story ends.

“'Wash yourselves clean;

"'Put your evil doings

“'Away from My sight....

“‘Be your sins like crimson,

“‘They can turn snow-white;

“‘Be they red as dyed wool,

“‘They can become like fleece’” - Isaiah 1.16, 18b; from Nevi’im.

A Fresh Endeavour

Throughout time, it has been said that trying new things is spiritually healthy for a person who might be stuck in self-claimed monotony. Whether such a fresh endeavour be sampling some unexplored, culinary dish or shipping off to Papua New Guinea, one could argue that seeking out opportunities to break from spells of boredom is good and natural, particularly for a younger person. This God-fearing author is content with his life as a graduate student of theology. However, he currently has ample time to spare towards unexplored and potential hobbies. Although he does not possess a weak interest in N.C.A.A. Men's Division I basketball (more commonly, and perhaps unfairly, referred to simply as 'college basketball,' which unintentionally disrespects everyone in Divisions II and III), he is admittedly naïve as a writer of the sport. It is fitting that an opportunity to explore such a possibility has arrived as he seeks to hone his slowly-blossoming abilities as a writer of any sort. As the writer has merely recently begun writing on a serious level, being a student of pure and advanced mathematics for a number of years, he craves any given opportunity to improve his skills as a prospective writer. After all, as Epictetus once said, "if you wish to be a writer, write." With a great chance to further his penmanship, this author chooses to, well, write.

At this point, it would be all but ludicrous to not elaborate on this 'opportunity' this writer has been sounding off about. Well, a fellow by the name of Kyle Whelliston, a virtual acquaintance of the author, is a proficient writer of the happenings in 'college basketball,' but by deliberately paying essentially no attention to such teams as Ohio State or Mississippi or North Carolina or Kansas. In other words, he writes on the season strictly from the point of view of the teams from the 'Other 24' conferences, which excludes the following conferences: Atlantic Coast, Big East, Big 12, Big Ten, Conference-USA, Mountain West, Pacific-12, and Southeastern (Gonzaga, Memphis, and Xavier are counted as 'exceptions,' due to their consistent success). One of his arguments in support of such a view can be found through his exposition on a concept called The Red Line. All of this information is pertinent to understand the opportunity, which is called The 800-Games Project (A need-to-know summary can be found here, courtesy of the Big Apple Buckets blog). As a subscribed member for the eighth season of The Mid-Majority, the writer is obligated to participate in the Project, which means that like Mr. Whelliston, the author shall attend a number of eligible games throughout the season and shall then write and submit an official recap of each game. To avoid the mundane format of a recap such as a reader might read at The Worldwide Leader in Sports, a recap written by this author shall be like an essay, that is the game itself shall be the essence, the meat of the essay, but literary and philosophical references shall serve as delicious garnishes, which make that meat taste delectable. Together, the set of recaps serves as a double-fold opportunity to further his pathetic prospects as a writer and to experience the life of a basketball writer.

As the eligible teams have been posting their schedules on their respective athletic websites, the author has been assembling his personal schedule, budgeting what petty funds he has available for travel costs and game tickets, and weighing how many, and which, games to attend. Although the preferred minimum is five games, the author is planning to attend between five and nine games. The tentative schedule can be found below:

Friday, 18 November 2011 (Game 453): Boston College at Holy Cross (7.30 p.m. EST)
Sunday, 4 December 2011 (Game 1165): Maine at Rhode Island (2.00 p.m. EST)
Wednesday, 7 December 2011 (Game 1226): Virginia Tech at Rhode Island (7.00 p.m. EST)
Saturday, 17 December 2011 (Game 1560): Villanova at Saint Joseph's (8.00 p.m. EST)
Saturday, 21 January 2012 (Game 2788): Quinnipiac at Bryant (4.00 p.m. EST)
Saturday, 27 January 2012 (Game 3005): Dartmouth at Brown (7.00 p.m. EST)
Saturday, 4 February 2012 (Game 3257): Temple at Rhode Island (2.00 p.m. EST)
Friday, 24 February 2012 (Game 3963): Princeton at Harvard (7.00 p.m. EST)

No matter whichever portion of the above schedule is fulfilled for this adventure, readers can expect to find various types of entries published in this blog. Such posts will include official game recaps (which will also appear at T.M.M.), statistical analyses of eligible teams and conferences throughout the season, a projection of team races to be released around New Year's Day, photographic albums from the games ('Off the Road,' a la Kerouac), and miscellaneous notes from the more time-consuming travels (such as the flight to Philadelphia in mid-December). The author does admit to being somewhat of a perfectionist. With that in mind, the original intent of this particular blog was to house official game recap submissions to The Mid-Majority's website and nothing more. However, the result of such an intent would be the presence of a dark cloud of incompleteness, which would hover over this blog. In the opinion of the writer, given the small number of games to be attended in proportion to the numbers of games to be played over the course of the season, along with the spacing of time between the likeliest of games to be attended by this author, this blog with recaps alone would be like an unfinished piece of art with a semblance of potential to be beautiful. Ergo, it is merely right to chase away that dark cloud and complete that painting with diligence.

As the author has attempted to explain, the primary purpose of this blog is to house the writer's contributions to The 800-Games Project. With that having been conveyed, it would be right to mention other avenues by which to follow this intriguing Project which Mr. Whelliston has assimilated. Now, Mr. Whelliston is a frequent user of Twitter, specifically to 'live-tweet' games which he personally attends. The Mid-Majority can be found here: @midmajority. Technically, Mr. Whelliston is using this Project as a way to take a sabbatical year, so to speak. Having stated that, it would be better to follow The 800-Games Project here: @800GP. Additionally, the author may use his own Twitter account to keep tabs on the season as it unfolds. Although the author is proudly old-fashioned, he is willing to compromise with the technologically-savvy world that he lives in not only with this blog, but also through his Twitter account.

When the author learned of this Project in early March 2011, he knew that he had a fine chance not only to improve as a writer, but also to explore the silly concept of being a writer of college basketball. Now, the author calls the idea of writing on the sport to be 'silly' because he merely recently had an interest in any sport. The spark that lit the dynamite that is the onset of this particular interest was provided by an odd excitement created by the box score of the 2007 national semifinal match between North Carolina and Georgetown. From that, the prospect of having at least a casual interest in the sport became a reality once 1 November 2007 had passed. Having read the works of Mr. Whelliston, pertinently on financial issues with the sport ('Our Game,' as he calls it), and having seen the beautiful barnstorming through the past two tournaments by Butler, the author is convinced that absolutely any team in Division I can legitimately compete for a national championship. A team such as Texas-Pan American is not in Division I simply to middle about. That team is in Division I to win a championship, no matter how truly ridiculous of an idea that may seem to anybody. North Carolina, Kansas, Butler, and Texas-Pan American are all Division I teams. Logically, they are in Division I to win the Division I national title. As Mr. Whelliston would point out, North Carolina and Kansas have more realistic shots at actually winning national titles simply because of the root of all evil, that is money (cf. I Timothy 6.10), which flows through a combination of the assembly of a following through amassing national titles quicker than other teams and subsequent interest by television stations to sign such a successful team to an outlandish contract to flaunt its corporally-degraded substance.

As the author would indicate, the purpose of such a project is to personally witness a number of matches between 'obscure' teams of collegiate students that play simply out of the love of 'Our Game.' Although the occasional student hones his exceptional athletic abilities precisely enough to produce results beyond the expectations of everyone and subsequently sign a professional contract with a basketball club (e.g. former Harvard point guard Jeremy Lin, now with the National Basketball Association's Golden State Warriors franchise), a vast majority of the students are truly student-athletes, working thoroughly to ensure they have read a selection from Emily Brontë's 'Wuthering Heights' before perfecting that free-throw stance. As Mr. Whelliston would aptly state here, Our Game embodies 'All of Us > Each of Us.' Although the author must wait until 18 November to contribute to The Project, he shall do so with patience and excitement. Finally, he hopes that readers shall enjoy the season by his writings.