Got nerds? Because the Harvard University band sure does.
Tons of ’em: tall nerds, short nerds, skinny nerds, fat nerds, nerds with long, straight hair and biscuit-sized glasses, ponytailed nerds with tight dorky pants, nerds with brillo-pad hair and most importantly, tuba-playing nerds. (You can’t have a nerd band without the tuba, you simply cannot).
Every February it seems Northeastern endures the pain of the Beanpot Consolation Game, or what some refer to as the “Northeastern Invitational.”
But, there’s hope. Look to the nerds. No, seriously, look at them. They’re hilarious.
As a part of the Beanpot festivities every year, each school’s band sits amongst the 17,000 puck-loving fans for Boston’s famous tournament. And none of the bands, or anyone else on the face of the planet for that matter, is nearly as nerdy as the Harvard kids.
At the end of last week’s first period, a frame in which their Crimson allowed two of the softest goals on record, the 25 constituents of this group screeched and hooted wildly, much as they must’ve done at the conclusion of Lord of the Rings.
Then, as the curtain opened on the second period, each of the incredibly goofy figures donning Harvard jerseys assembled — that is, except “drillmaster” Clark Rosensweig. He’s the kind of nerd that really and truly believes he’s not one. And those, boys and girls, are the biggest nerds of all. I mean, look at the kid, clad in a black trenchcoat and brimmed hat.
Moments later, the Band Geeks of All Time showed Boston what they’re really made of. The band counted down until a Crimson player was let out of the penalty box. “5 … 4 … 3 … 2 … 1 …,” before stunning everyone within earshot with a high-pitched Gremlin-like yell of “freedom!”
Amazing.
Later, while playing one of the many Bon Jovi songs in their rotation, Matthew DeWitt, a Bill Gates clone, and Rosensweig held their fists high in the air for the entire duration of the tune.
“[Former student conductor] Jack Miller was the one that arranged a lot of our Bon Jovi stuff, and Brett Wortzman, he plays trombone,” Rosenweig said triumphantly.
It was at this time, shortly before the band broke out into a rocking rendition of the Teenage Mutant Ninja’s classic “Turtle Power,” that assistant sports editor Peter Conroy turned to me and mused: “What if you were a normal, cool guy who just loved music, but you had to be in the band with those people. That’d be really frustrating.”
Later in the game, after a Tony Voce goal more or less clinched the BC victory, conductor Jamie Silver pretended to jab a dagger through her stomach.
Impressive.
The goal, or the 4-1 loss for that matter, didn’t dampen the spirits of these Crimson faithful, though. As the game ended, the band played with all the vigor and pep they could muster … despite the fact that not a single person was left in the stands.
And why should that stop them? DeWitt, who was seen hugging his symbols throughout the evening in much the same fashion I imagine he holds his calculus book at night, gave countless intense symbol crashes, nearly falling over at the weight of the instrument on multiple occasions. And, a saxophone player who looked oddly like the Karate Kid with his white headband and long brown hair, went to town during the school’s fight song.
Good for them.
But, in dare I say the most controversial moment in Beanpot history, the Crimson band moved DeWitt from the high-energy symbols to the piccolo for Monday’s contest with Northeastern. What a shame.
Conroy noted his apparent multiple talents when informed of the switch.
To which, “Cathy” look-a-like Silver answered: “You should see him in bed.”
And that, my friends, says it all.
In the box: Word of football coach Don Brown’s departure from NU spread rapidly yesterday and almost everyone I talked to seemed shocked at the decision.
I wasn’t. Like I said in an earlier column, it seems like the logical move for both Brown and UMass. First, Brown cut his teeth as the defensive coordinator on UMass’ national championship crew in 1998. Second, it’s simply what is best for his career, family and future. Can’t fault a man for that.
What you can fault him for, though, is the way he handled his decision. According to statements made by a number of football players to The News, he gave little warning that he would be taking the job. And there is no excuse for that. More importantly, this is nothing like the Don Brown we all knew.
His accomplishments speak for themselves. Thanks for the memories, Don, and good luck in all future endeavours.
— News Staffer Peter Conroy contributed to this report, although he feels awful about it. Jack Weiland may be reached at [email protected]. He can be heard every Wednesday from 12-1 p.m. on WRBB 104.9 FM’s “Newstime.”
