It ain't easy being a Jumbo some days. As Elaine from "Seinfeld" once memorably exclaimed, "Hey, I went to Tufts! It was my safety school! So don't talk to me about hardship."
Brown and blue might possibly be the worst color combination imaginable, and having to explain to everyone who asks about our mascot that, no, we're not the elephants, we're a specific elephant, never gets old. We're the Ivy wannabe, and our campus is located in gorgeous Medford/Somerville.
But several Saturdays back, watching the men's lacrosse team lose the definition of a heartbreaker to Middlebury, I experienced for the first time exactly what it means to have pride for your school.
A couple of friends and I made the trek up to Vermont a few weeks ago, traveling through countless typical New England towns speckled with farms and white steeple churches, through back woods and arriving in just over three hours to watch the men's lacrosse semifinals.
Tufts doesn't really have a standard "arch-rival." Amherst may be close. Giving the title to Connecticut College is an insult to Tufts. And everyone hates Williams. But Middlebury could hold claim as our version of the Yankees.
The Red Sox are your average bums, the working-class stiff with the heart of gold, and the Yankees are the evil aristocracy, sporting a lineup of pretty boys. This is about the equivalent of Tufts and Middlebury. Tufts may be a little rough around the edges, but it wants to save the world, while Middlebury looks like it just wants to own it.
As we made our way from the parking lot to the stadium, and we donned our brown garb, I felt like I was heading into a
Sox-Yankees matchup. And boy did I want the Old Town Team to come away with the upset.
The game was an exciting one, with both teams trading off goals throughout. After the trouncing that Tufts took from Middlebury earlier in the season, we were cautiously optimistic going in. But the Jumbos were playing like their lives depended on it, and they weren't only standing eye-to-eye with Middlebury; they were outplaying them.
Amazingly, this almost felt like a home game for Tufts. Half the Coliseum-like stadium at Middlebury was littered with quiet and preppy Middlebury students, a sea of patchwork shorts and popped Polo shirts. But the other half of the stands was filled with Tufts students and parents, most wearing "Brown Town" t-shirts and screaming up a storm. Literally.
By the fourth quarter, dark clouds moved in over the purple mountains and a cold rain capped off the perfect atmosphere as the Men from Medford made an incredible run to tie the score at 11-11 with two seconds left in regulation.
Two Dingleburys, who we later found out didn't even go to Middlebury, heckled the Tufts cheering section incessantly for three-quarters of the game, but as the tide turned, we sent their mocking "Brown Town" chant right back at them as they slinked over to the Middlebury section.
One of the guys insulted Medford while the other made cracks about the guys on the field. And that's when we really wanted the team to win. I had been at the Red Sox game the night before, but the fervor of the Tufts fans in the stands that day outdid even Fenway.
In overtime we led chants of "T-U-F-T-S" and "Go Jumbos!" Middlebury remained silent, no doubt checking out the latest Burberry catalogue. The rain came down harder, and after both teams exchanged shots that just barely bounced off the goal posts, we headed into a third overtime.
As my buddy pointed out, Tufts had held Middlebury scoreless for nearly 15 minutes after Middlebury had scored to make it 11-8, and we were sure they were going to pull this one out. When number 20 ripped the game winning shot to send Middlebury to its sixth consecutive NESCAC finals, and the idiots returned to chide us once again, we realized miracles can't happen every day.
But as the Brown and Blues made their way to the sidelines, no Jumbo fan moved, and after a moment of sorrow for a season ended, we applauded their efforts at a valiant struggle.
That day, Middlebury just barely beat a Tufts squad that had outplayed them for over an hour and 10 minutes of spectacular lacrosse. In the end, as clich?©d as it sounds, the game was anyone's, and the fates just fell with Middlebury.
To all the players on the field and on the sidelines that day, you made it easy to be a Jumbo fan. I, for one, can't wait until next year when Middlebury has to make the drive to Medford in next year's championships to finally be uncrowned.
Andrew Bauld is a junior majoring in English. He can be reached at Andrew.Bauld@tufts.edu.
