On Saturday, thousands crowded into Thompson Arena to watch the Dartmouth men's hockey team battle Princeton. I was eager to find a seat among the mob clad in green and white, and nervous that a Safety and Security officer might discover the tennis ball that was taped to the small of my back.
Ever since I arrived on campus I was looking forward to this game. I made a vow at the beginning of the year to attend every men's home game, but this game was special because of the tradition, the threat of punishment, the opponent and the excitement that is thereby created.
I haven't been able to figure out why we throw tennis balls after the first Dartmouth goal or how the tradition got started. However, I also don't know why we run laps around the bonfire, why we rush the field at homecoming or why we rub Warner Bentley's nose on our way into the Hopkins Center. But those are things we do anyway because we know many have done them before us and more will do them after we're gone.
Having said that, it is the responsibility of every prudent generation to examine tradition and make changes as it sees fit with respect to history. Well, I ultimately decided to throw my tennis ball after David Jones put us up with less than three minutes left in the first. It wasn't an easy decision to make.
My first concern was that the Dartmouth men would be penalized, which they were for delay of game after the hail of balls. However, if the league is so concerned with stopping the flow of the game, why is it all right for there to be three commercial breaks a period so that ESPNU can carry the game on television?
I'm worried that our game can be stopped for private companies that have no interest in the College but can't be stopped for those who are most invested in the College -- the students -- to uphold the legacy of classes gone by. And, if it is really about the money, won't Dartmouth get paid more for endorsements if they have gigantic turnouts?
In addition to these issues, I believe the college is intent on sanitizing Dartmouth crowds. The area around the visiting team's penalty-box is manned by a Safety and Security officer and blocked-off to prevent heckling. When fans get too excited about attending the game, they are threatened with ejection for obeying tradition.
It seems to me that allowing Dartmouth students an outlet for their aggression is a great idea; hockey games have always had a cathartic effect on me that I relish on Friday and Saturday nights after a week of work.
Nevertheless, I partially regret my decision to throw a ball. For me, Dartmouth's athletes are something that make our school special. Stoic in the face of long practices and unrelenting work, and brave when faced with persistent exhaustion, student-athletes work hard for the love of their game and their school. As Tanner Glass, who later went on to win the game for Dartmouth in overtime, took the microphone at the first intermission and thanked the crowd for the support, I felt bad that he had to also admonish the behavior of his peers. It is in no way fair that those who work so hard have their job made that much harder for tradition's sake. Is it really worth it?
The thought, however, still lingers in my mind that the players might actually support the tradition. Don't our projectiles add insult to Princeton's injury and doesn't our tradition instill fear in our opponents? Why was Dartmouth Coach Bob Gaudet so visibly furious at the referees after the penalty if he agreed that the action was reprehensible? And finally, wasn't the pat-down at the door to the arena just a formality and didn't the Safety and Security officers stationed by the penalty box laugh at their "inability" to catch us entering with balls after the goal? It's hard to delineate between encouragement and deterrence in such situations. It sounds like not everyone's on the same page.
"Lest the old traditions fail," cautions our Alma Mater. But which traditions are immortalized and which fade into obscurity can't be chosen by James Wright, Dartmouth alumni or even the hockey team. We choose. We decide what's right and what's wrong. We leave our balls at home or we clutch them in our palms waiting for the light to turn red.
