Monday, February 12, 2007
"No Beanpot?" A poem by Bill LittlefieldThey tell me there was once no Beanpot, but I can't be sure, Because without the Beanpot, how could anyone endure The black ice and the bitter cold, and all the dirty snow That's February's dreary portion everywhere you go? This month that's coming up without the tourney? I think not. In February, here in Boston, this is what you've got. From Huntington to Commonwealth, across to Harvard Square, The wind will freeze your tail off, and you'll wish that you weren't there... Except you've got the Beanpot on two cold, dark Monday nights, And that's the thought that warms the heart and turns on all the lights, And calls forth all the memories of Beanpot yore... Like '68, when Harvard got just one, and B.U. four. Or how about a recent year more mem'rable to me? In '01 B.C. banged home five, and B.U. only three. And if you drop a decade back, and I'm prepared to do, You find in '93 that Harvard, strange, I know, but true, Let B.U. slip a couple in, but scarcely any more, Which worked out for the Crimson, as they neatly netted four. And thirteen years before that night, the stars swirled into line, And as those gathered gaped and gasped, Northeastern bowed the twine Not once, not twice, but full five times, which B.C. couldn't do, And in overtime which was completely overdue, Northeastern won the Pot, and Jack Grinold, a happy guy, Became convinced that heaven had descended from the sky. Two Monday evenings loom before us, glorious and grand — These nights of hockey, nights of chanting, nights of bleating bands Have now for half a century been February's lot, And, as I've said, in winter, it's the best that Boston's got. Good luck to the competitors, to all the rest good cheer. Whoever wins, may you all gather for the Pot next year. Bill Littlefield is an author and the host of the NPR program "Only a Game." * * * UPDATE: This year's result: BU 2, BC 1 (OT)Globe * Herald * USCHO
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