Through the Lens of Lentz
Right now, Sophomore Summer is in its NFC or AFC Championship stage. That is to say, most people are thinking, "This is really awesome and has been great, and I can't believe it's going to be over soon."
This thought was abruptly thrown upon me when I realized I will not have a single psych class left by the time this article prints. Because I am so fixated on the fact that the NFL season is back, this column is like a season recap, part of that ridiculous filler between the championship games and the Super Bowl.
Week Five: Some narcissistic early-risers finished the 100-mile Prouty bike ride. I, on the other hand, woke up at 10 a.m. and ran the longest distance I have ever run in my life, 10k (and I even had to walk some of it). Overall, the event raised an impressive amount of money for a great cause.
The Prouty was a colossal match up between two 4-0 teams. On one side, you have sophomore Summer, with its never-ending offensive onslaught of diversions, including swimming in the river and playing pong. The other side is something resembling a terrifying defensive team. That's the only way I can describe a bike race in which my friend asked, "Do you even comprehend what biking 100 miles will do to your butt?"
Victor: Sophomore Summer won this one decisively. Some people may have lost their ability to sit comfortably during the Prouty, but winners keep winning, and so sophomore Summer wins this match-up.
Week Eight: Masters. The most physically draining part of this event is actually much subtler than most people realize. Let's forget the players for a second. In reality, this game was fought in the stands, and anyone who was there can attest to the grueling conditions of the Gamma Delta Chi pit (read: sauna).
Both the competition and the shenanigans surrounding it were memorable. Lines were crossed and the Class of 2013's level of debauchery was forever raised. In fact, I would say the events of Masters weekend were permanently etched in many people's memories. Acts were committed that cannot be repeated in this paper. Let me put it this way: James Harrison who recently stated that he would not use his own urine to extinguish a fire burning on NFL commissioner Roger Goodell would be horrified. But that was the goal, wasn't it?
Victor: This ended up being one of those games where both teams have already qualified for the playoffs, so the only ones who actually care about the outcome are the teams themselves. Let me just say this, though: You probably shouldn't put "Masters Champion 11X" on your resume.
Week Nine: Fieldstock? I honestly do not know how it went, but it probably deserves to be included.
During Fieldstock weekend, I was golfing and visiting a friend out in the country, so I was unable to attend. People said it was fun, though, and I had planned on going. That counts, right?
Fieldstock was probably similar to that Masters match-up. One team had a lot on the line and kind of fell flat, while the other team enjoyed domination. This seems like the situation that my beloved New York Giants find themselves in year after year.
The Fieldstock match-up essentially boils down to Dartmouth students versus the administration's creation of a fake big weekend.
Victor: Dartmouth administration. Face it: Fieldstock will not be and will never be Tubestock. Conan O'Brien's Commencement speech this year is becoming less and less funny as his joke has become more and more accurate.
So what were the playoffs of this summer? Well, thinking back, I probably should have saved Masters for this one, just because it's such an easy analogy. To be honest, I don't really think anything has happened in the five days since Fieldstock ended that merits the playoffs title. And certainly, nothing will be the caliber of a Super Bowl title.
My ending advice is this: Find something infinitely fun to do for the end of the term. Not very much time remains before Hanover returns to being a cold abyss during the third week of October, so just think of the last two weeks of the term as your Super Bowl equivalent to good weather. Well, until you realize the Super Bowl is in New York in 2014 and remember with horror what a winter at Dartmouth is really like.