Hi everyone,
I just come across an article which I had saved and really like.  It would
probably be of more interest in April, but oh well.  This comes from an early
April 1989 edition of the Daily Maine Campus (and yes, to all you UMainers out
there, remember it was the DAILY Maine before the budget cuts :-(  )
It is written by Greg Reid, and all created goes to him, the typing errors are
mine.
CONVERSATION WITH A SPECIAL 'FAN'
The NC$$ final four is more of a fan all star weekend than a championship
tournament. While Seattle melted under the lights of network television
and felt the weight of basketball's million dollar profits, the Twin Cities
welcomed 15,000 fans with the hospitality born of 4 a.m. rides to practice
and the excitment of your first pair of double runners.
Michigan State, Minnesota, Maine, and Harvard were the only teams in the
tournament, but hockey fans from all over the country came to St.Paul: Bee
Gees from Bowling Green were cheering for the Spartans, No-Daks from North
Dakota were singing drinking songs with Gophers, and Badgers from Wisconson
were dancing with Bananas the Bear.
This was the weekend Harvard claimed its first national championship in any
sport and Lane McDonald ws named the Hobey Baker Award winner as this year's
top player in the game.
The Hobey Baker award is a strange award.  It recognizes the best individual
player of a game that can't be played individually.  Baker was Princeton's
two sport legend who supposedly epitomized the ideals of college sports:
scholarship, athletic excellence, class in victory, and class in defeat.
Hobart Amory Hare Baker set university records in football and hockey, flew
as a fighter in the Great War, and died testing aircraft in 1918.  His legend
was his character, not his records.  But his award typically goes to the
player with the best statistics and the most effective public relations
campaign.
I stood next to a rather odd-looking guy amid 200 or so people at the Bears'
pregame send-off at the Holiday Inn- Town Square.
He looked strangely out of place, this pale thin man in his black sweater
with a burned orange "P" on his chest.  He nodded to me and smiled, turing
his eyes to the center of the room.  Six red-and-white costumed Badgers led
the Maine fans in anti-Minnesota cheers.  The guy laughed to himself.
"This is what it's all about." he said, running his hand through his short
blond hair.
"Are you a Maine Alum?" I asked trying to place the guy's face.  He couldn't
have been more than 26 or 27 but his gray eyes had the look of having seen
a lot in so few years.
"No." he said, shaking his head slowly, "Princeton".
To most of the people in the room Princeton meant nothing more than an 8-2
Maine victory in December and a non-scholarship basketball team coming within
a point of sending Georgetown to the biggest upset in its history.
But this was St.Paul. Princeton was Baker's school.  St.Paul was the home of
F. Scott Fitzgerald, the university's most famous dropout, and the capital.
Land of 10,000 Outdoor Hockey Rinks come October.  Somehow this Princeton
guy fit in.
For a moment, the guy looked 100 years old.  Then he smiled. "Do you think
Maine will win it all?" I asked.
"That does't really matter does it?" he said.  "As long as these people are
here, that's the point."
He sounded like he went to academics-before-athletics Princeton.  Ivy on the
walls Princeton.
"They made the semis last year," I said.  "They say they want to go all the
way this year."
He laughed at Bananas, who swiveled his hips at an older couple.  "Only a
champion remembers the champion, the game-winning play." he said.
Was this guy a graduate philosophy major?  "The final four is like any other
holiday, really.  Do you remember wht you got for Christmas every year or
do you just remember Christmas?"
I raised an eyebrow.  Scores told the story.  Goals and assists and champion-
ships  and trophies were what hockey meant.  Isn't that what everybody came
to Minnesota for this weekend?
Not exactly.
An iron Miner named Goofus from upper-Michigan has cheered for his State
Spartans faithfully since he dropped out in 1968.  Wisconsin graduate and
Hartford Whalers' scout Dave McNab plans his calendar - work and social- around
these games.  And every April Boston University Elliot Dribben takes time off
from his job at John Handcock in Boston and brings his battle with Cerebal
Palsy to the festivities, whether they're in St.PUal
(Sorry.. I messed up -Sarah) Providence, R.I., or Detroit.
Scores? Stats? Who cares if that helmet was a little to big of a little to
small.  It was the last thing Santa ever left under the tree.
"This is a holiday by itself." the guy said.  "A lot of emotion.  A lot of
memories."
I looked around the room as people started to cheer.  The Bears were coming
out of the elevators.  The guy wished me well and I felt his hand clap on
my shoulder.  Or I thought I did.
"I missed your name," I said as he faded into the crowd.  His mouth moved.
"Hobey," I thought he said, "Hobey Baker."
 
End Quote.
So, in the spirit of college hockey, Good Luck to all you Boston University
fans out there at the Alfond tomorrow.  It should be a great one.  looking
foward to reading the mail.
Sorry so long!!
Sarah
Go Maine!!!