The Only Game That Matters: The Harvard/Yale Rivalry

by Bernard M. Corbett, Paul Simpson

As Harvard graduate Roger Angell once said, "The Game picks us up each November and holds us for two hours and...all of us, homeward bound, sense that we are different yet still the same. It is magic."

For hundreds of thousands of alumni and fans, the annual clash between Harvard and Yale inspires a sense of nostalgia and pride unequaled anywhere in sports. For much of the year Ivy League football is overshadowed by powerhouse programs such as Miami and Michigan. But not on the third Saturday of November, when all eyes turn to New England for the legendary battle between the Crimson and the Blue. In The Only Game That Matters, Bernard M. Corbett and Paul Simpson explore what makes this iconic rivalry so revered, so beloved, and so pivotal in college football history.

Known simply as "The Game," this tradition-soaked Ivy League feud began in 1875, and it has been leading the evolution of college football ever since. Although the Ivy League hasn't had a national champion in decades, The Game still stands alone in the college football pantheon. It is a living history, its roots reaching back to a time when young men took to the field for the sake of competition, not for a chance at a million-dollar pro contract. The Game, then and now, features the true student athlete.

Of course, it also features bloody brawls, ingenious pranks, and breathtaking comebacks. The Only Game That Matters recounts the 2002 season through the eyes of players and coaches, interweaving the modern-day experience with great stories of classic games past. By tracing this venerable competition from its inception—looking at such legendary games as 1894's Bloodbath in HampdenPark and Harvard's 29-29 "win" in 1968 and such influential coaches as Yale's Walter Camp, the father of football as we know it—the anatomy of a rivalry emerges. Culminating in the thrilling 2002 contest, The Only Game That Matters illuminates the unique place this storied feud occupies in today's sports world. To the game of football, to the spirit of rivalry, to the Crimson and Blue faithful, The Game is the only game that matters.

Genres: Sports

320 pages, Hardcover

First published January 1, 2004

Reviews

[Dad · Rating 3 out of 5]

An okay book if you care about Harvard or Yale football. But the book is now 20 years out of date, and the focus on the 2002 season when neither team was Ivy Champion was unfortunate.

[Michael · Rating 3 out of 5]

If you’re a die-hard “The Game” attendee – one that actually takes your seat before kick-off – then this might just be a Five Star book. If you’re simply interested in college football as represented in today’s television offerings then this would get a star or two at best. My rating represents a position somewhere in between. This is the rating of someone, hypothetically of course, who frequently buys tickets to The Game but doesn’t stumble away from the tailgate until deep into the second half. The authors take the reader (and by “reader” I mean that I’m apparently the only one, at least on Goodreads) through the 2002 Harvard and Yale season. For those that don’t know or care, 9/10ths of a typical season - where dismal potential precludes any hope for even an Ivy Champion bid – can be defined as mere preparation for the final match between the two once-powerhouse teams. Thus, as a necessary supplement to what would surely prove a dull book, stories from The Game’s storied history are sprinkled throughout.

Not to disparage the great scholar-athletes filling out the 2002 rosters, but the historical inclusions are by far the most interesting aspect of this book. The trials and travails of 2002, while certainly important to the players and their most dedicated fans, are simply not interesting in the form of a week-by-week chronicle of mediocre games and injury updates. Perhaps the idea of utilizing a particular season’s unfolding as the armature to support a more varied historical account is a good strategy, but 2002 seems one of the less interesting possible scenarios. The authors make the point that, regardless of the standings prior to the final game, the passions surrounding The Game can, and frequently do, result in shocking upsets like 2007, or the infamous 1968. 2002 had no such conclusion and lacked any significant numerical importance (meeting #119 on the 127th anniversary!). It seems a curious choice.

What does emerge, in my mind, through this sort of cross-pollination between the 2002 teams and those of old, is how the current deemphasized programs of Yale and that other school would probably demolish any of their pre-Ivy League predecessors (that is, pre 1954). Yes, the current crop of Division I-AA, SAT-acing players mostly pale in comparison to any given WAC or C-USA bench warmer. But when one reads about some turn-of-the-last-century dude – perhaps 66 ½” tall and weighing in at all of 154 pounds – who was considered a terror to every opposing player on the gridiron, then you know it was a dramatically different milieu when the Elis, New Jersey Tigers, and even the Cantabs were the “Big Three.” This is obvious I suppose (I mean, they now have helmets and whatnot) but I don’t think one necessarily makes such a direct comparison when regaling about the great old days of elite football. The intergenerational nature of this narrative implicitly enables such a reading.

Certainly the best synopsis comes from former Governor Pataki’s forward (in regards to the 1968 Game – probably Harvard’s finest hour as an institution):

And this brings me to the only shortcoming of The Only Game That Matters: Historians more faithful to the enduring truth of Yale superiority would have ignored this historical aberration.”