BOSTON - In some ways, I've grown up with the Penn football team. Two years ago, I went on a road trip to Boston with the Daily Pennsylvanian's Sports Department. I figured it couldn't be that bad of a deal -- a little bit of partying, some strolling around Boston and a good football game.
After an eventful ride (that included one minor fender-bender and another writer vomiting on my shoes), Saturday's football game between Penn and Harvard finally arrived.
The setting was perfect -- two undefeated Ivy League teams, one blustery, cold fall day and Harvard's historic stadium.
There was really only one problem -- the sports reporters in charge of covering were nowhere to be found. Their excuses of car troubles and wayward directions were impressive, but unfortunately didn't help the ultimate problem. We needed three people up in the press box, and we were three bodies short.
So I, the unassuming sophomore with no experience covering football games for the DP, was apparently the most logical selection.
Palms sweaty, I eagerly looked over the shoulders of fellow reporters, silently trying to register just what they took note of on those important-looking yellow notepads.
The article I finally ended up writing was adequate, considering the circumstances.
This Saturday, Penn's dramatic loss to Harvard on Nov. 10, 2001, came flashing back to my mind.
There were similarities, primarily the whipping winds and the intolerably cold weather. But more importantly, there were differences. Both the football team and I had grown up.
Just as I have grown more confident and skilled as a writer (in theory), Penn has also progressed. Two years ago, when the top two teams in the Ivy League walked onto the field, Harvard held an edge. It was nothing tangible -- no statistic could prove that the Crimson were the better squad -- but there was a certain aura. They were confident and they established the upper hand from the onset.
In just the first five minutes of Saturday's game, my concerns about Penn's squad vanished. Sure, those two early touchdowns helped, but it was more than Mike Mitchell's accurate passing.
The Red and Blue stepped onto the field with a calm and collected presence. These Quakers were not here to challenge a tough Harvard squad. Instead, they were prepared to dominate.
There were moments of brilliance that Harvard's scrappy play could never match. Dan Castles' 44-yard catch over double coverage comes to mind. Steve Lhotak's four and a half sacks on the day weren't too shabby.
But what distinguished this team, and what ultimately handed them the Ivy League Championship, was its maturity.
Those who doubt this year's league champs would cite Harvard's near-comeback in Saturday's game. They'll say that the Quakers couldn't hold onto their lead, that they really aren't all that talented and they can't hold it together for an entire game. The Quakers retained a collective resiliency -- and managed to hang on for the win.
But that challenge to Penn's authority on the field is exactly what proves the squad's increased composure and maturity. The most remarkable component to the Quakers' win this weekend was their ability to hold off Harvard's late-game revolt.
Ultimately, the 2003 Penn football team should be revered for what it is -- an incredibly talented squad with an impressive amount of guts and heart that gets it done on the field.
And so, unlike two years ago, both the Penn football team and I proved that we may actually know what we're doing -- it just doesn't look like it all the time. But hey, at least we've made a few improvements in the past two years -- they now have a championship trophy as proof.
