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Women's soccer rattles off two straight wins

The women's soccer team can finally breathe easy. After struggling through their first four games, the Jumbos came away this weekend sporting their first winning streak of the year, defeating the Bates Bobcats 2-1 on Homecoming Saturday and the non-conference Worcester State Lancers 3-1 yesterday. The two wins moved Tufts into a three way tie for fourth place in the NESCAC at 1-1-2 (2-2-2, overall), while Bates' loss relegated the Bobcats to sole possession of seventh place with a 4-2 record (1-2, NESCAC). The Bobcats started the week ranked fifth in New England. "It was absolutely huge," coach Martha Whiting said. "Now the monkey is finally off our back and [we can] breathe a sigh of relief. We have a lot of confidence in ourselves because of this win." Tufts was able to snap out of its offensive funk, notching a total of five goals over the weekend. The scores nearly tripled the Jumbos' previous goal output, giving them a total of seven on the season. In addition, the Jumbos won in front of a crowd of screaming parents, fans, and last year's four seniors, Becca Doigan, Jess Trombly, and former co-captains Abby Herzberg and Jess Lovitz. "It was the greatest thing," Whiting said. "Not only did we get to win in front of the parents and alumni, we won for those four girls who were so dear to our team for the past four seasons. It just made it all the better for us." The Jumbos began the game against Bates looking flat on both sides of the ball. However, senior goalkeeper Meg McCourt and her back four defenders were able to keep Bates out of the Tufts' net in the early going. Despite being outhustled early, the Jumbo offense took advantage of a Bates mistake in the eighth minute when senior co-captain Sarah Gelb corralled an uncleared ball and ripped it past Bates' freshman keeper Kim Howieson to put Tufts up 1-0. The goal was Gelb's team-leading second of the season. For the first time this season, the Jumbos kept the intensity up for the 10 minutes after they scored the goal. "It was a huge relief to get that first goal," senior co-captain Becky Greenstein said. "We stayed strong for the few minutes after, and the fact that we were able to remain as a cohesive unit was huge." Despite going into halftime with a 1-0 lead, the Jumbos still started out slowly in the second half. Bates was quicker to the ball and seemed to be working more as a unit than Tufts was. But the Jumbos defense held and McCourt was able to stop any shots from skirting past her. Strangely enough, a Bates injury pumped up the Jumbos early in the second frame. After a Bobcat player went down, Whiting called her team into the huddle and gave them a short pep talk. "We were playing terribly through the first 10 minutes of the second half," Whiting said. "When that girl went down, I brought them in and said, 'there is no way we're going to lose this game because we didn't work hard enough', and that seemed to spark them." From then on, Tufts dominated. The squad corrected everything that it had struggled with since the start of the season. The Jumbos moved well off the ball, transitioned from defense to offense, and communicated flawlessly in the midfield. Freshman center midfielder Martha Furtek and Greenstein led the way by setting the tone for the forwards and the backs. In the 68th minute, Tufts' hustle paid off. On a defensive clear, senior Jen Baldwin controlled the ball on the right flank, 25 yards from the net. Baldwin eluded a defender and sent a perfect cross into the center of the 18 yard box to freshman Lauren Fedore, who knocked the ball down and, in what proved to be the gamewinner, sent a low, hard shot straight through Howieson's legs and into the back of the net for her first career collegiate goal. "It felt amazing to get my first goal," Fedore said. "Jen played me a great ball, and I think it was really funny that it went through the goalie's legs." The pumped-up Jumbos returned to Kraft field yesterday. Led by Greenstein and junior Lindsay Garmirian, they came flying out of the gate early and put constant pressure on Lancer sophomore goalie Kim Mass. But Mass held her own in the box and was able to stop Tufts' multiple attacks and keep the Jumbos off the scoreboard. In the 28th minute, the Lancers got their first opportunity in the Tufts zone and took advantage. Freshman Tiffany Rotatori broke through the Tufts midfield and sent a flawless shot from the top of the box through two defenders, past McCourt and into the back of the net. It was the first recorded shot on the day for the Lancers, and it put them up 1-0. "We were annoyed, and disgusted at ourselves for letting up that early goal," Whiting said. However, the Jumbos ceased to give up, and did to the Lancers what had so often happened to them early in the season - they fought back. Within 12 minutes, at 40:08, junior Sarah Callaghan took a cross from freshman Anne Benedict and had one defender to beat to the goal. Callaghan quickly switched her feet as the defender went sprinting by, giving her all the time in the world to arch a perfect shot over Mass' head into the top left corner of the net to knot things up at one apiece going into halftime. In the second frame, the Jumbos finally started converting on their opportunities, adding goals by junior Lindsay Garmirian on an assist from Greenstein, and by senior Catherine Benedict off a corner kick from Furtek. The Jumbos outshot Worcester State 34-7. "It feels awesome to be on a winning streak," Benedict said. "We had a rough start to the season, but we're really putting things together and playing like we know we can play. Our morale is up and our confidence is up, and we're going to be tough to beat."Check out The Tufts Daily's 2004 Homecoming slideshow!


The Setonian
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Allison Roeser | My woman from Tokyo

You haven't traveled by subway until you've miscalculated your route and traveled around the Tokyo subway at seven in the morning on your fifth day in the country. Granted, in three weeks' time, I now know how to get from Point A to Point B without much hesitation; but my first impressions of the Tokyo Metro were enough to make me mentally calculate if it would be affordable to take a taxi everywhere. I was petrified, but it was by far the cheapest and most convenient mode of transportation. In retrospect, I think it's silly that I was so terrified of the bustling stations, the 40 or so different lines, and the rapid Japanese arrival and departure announcements that I don't understand - because upon closer inspection, it's all such a smooth, organized, and usually calming experience. The terror of the language barrier quickly subsided as I began to notice English translations in smaller print everywhere, and some lines have bilingual announcements upon arrivals. As much as I like to be immersed with the Japanese language as much as possible, with no idea where I was headed and when my stop was coming up, you can bet I was anxious to hear or see some English pretty darn soon. Yet, there is something strangely surreal about riding on the subway lines here. It's absolutely unlike anything else. Aside from the to-the-minute punctuality and the overwhelming amount of subway stations (it's rare that you will be more than a 10-minute walk from a station anywhere in Tokyo and its suburbs), there is an almost uncomfortable degree of cleanliness that exists. Having spent a respectable chunk of my lifetime riding New York's MTA, Boston's T, and Washington, DC's Metro, in my mind, "subways" are automatically synonymous with "soil." The fact that I should never touch the railings nor be surprised by trails of trash and waste in American subway stations is a given. In Japan, you could eat off the platform floor if you had to, and don't expect to see an empty coffee cup or pages of newspaper come rolling down the train aisles. These train cars are as sanitary as hospital waiting rooms, and it hardly seems to take much effort on Tokyo's behalf. I was recently amused by one of my train's conductor's obligatory nighttime trek down the length of the train to pick up any trash. He had a small plastic bag shoved in his pants pocket and wore a pair of sanitary gloves. I watched him walk down empty-handed and walk back the exact same way. I laughed internally and shook my head in disbelief. How is it that a public subway system remains spanking clean all the time? I soon learned just how much the Japanese value the cleanliness of their subway after a friend and I accidentally dropped a few papers onto the floor of the subway car without noticing. The man next to my friend and the woman sitting next to me both gave us a bit of a nod toward the floor and an expectant look. Nobody eats on the subways out of respect for making a mess in such small quarters. Rarely will I even see someone drinking on the subways. Everyone uses the subway, and I mean everyone. This is perhaps the first subway line I have been on where doctors, university professors, and corporate head honchos use it on a regular basis. There is absolutely no shame in riding the Tokyo Metro. Simply put, the Japanese are proud of their mass transit. Yet, there is an aspect of the subways here that falls on the complete opposite end of the spectrum and into a category entirely unto itself: the issue of men ogling pornographic magazines and comic books. At six in the morning, at eleven at night, it happens regardless. There are also advertisements for pornographic movies or sex slave services hanging from the train cars, and it's not uncommon to see a group of men silently staring at these posters for the duration of their train ride, either. At the same time, I found this disturbing and interesting. I was especially intrigued as to how Japanese women aren't noticeably bothered by the way their fellow females are made into sex objects on the way to work every morning. A gender-themed sociology class I'm taking got into the topic of this, and we asked our professor how such behavior toward women is tolerated. She explained that, unlike in the States, there are no real negative connotations about sex and sexuality. There are not many Christians in Japan, so such religious beliefs about sex are almost nonexistent. Sex is just something that is surprisingly out in the open in Japan. It's absolutely everywhere you turn, whether you're in a seedy part of town or in the ritziest districts. As I quickly discovered, these pornographic magazines and comic books are sold alongside Japanese Vogue, The Economist, and The Japan Times at news kiosks and convenience stores on every corner. Some Japanese girls at my university shared a similar, fairly apathetic attitude toward it all. "I do not really like it, but I am so used to it that I do not notice it," said my friend Miyoko. Her friends agreed, saying that this was something that they've been dealing with since they were children and that some of their fathers, brothers, and uncles are guilty of indulging in such scandalous subway reading. It's hard to say if I will reach a point after my four months here where I will be unfazed by the porn on subways or the way in which the passengers take such immaculate care of the trains, but that is simply due to the way my upbringing and experiences have molded me. How the Japanese choose to draw the line as to what's respectful and what's not is something a foreigner like myself needs time to digest and understand in due time. Luckily for me, I have hundreds and hundreds of hours left to spend on the subways to draw closer to some sort of conclusion. But at least I'll have a clean seat.


The Setonian
News

Alex Bloom | Philly Phodder

Here's a quick question for all of you diehard (is there any other kind?) Red Sox fans out there. What does a 285-363 career record over four seasons, including two seasons mired in last place, merit for a former MLB manager? Apparently in Boston it'll get you a job as the Red Sox's skipper. That's the resume for Terry Francona, everyone's favorite Boston manager who will soon be everyone's favorite punching bag if the Sox come away empty-handed again this October. Francona led the Phillies through four lamentable seasons from 1997-2000. I was quite surprised to see anyone picking Francona to manage again, let alone the Red Sox, who decided that leading a major league baseball team down the toilet was a good qualification for manager of one of the most competitive franchises in professional sports. The running joke in Philadelphia was that Curt Schilling, one of the few bright spots in Francona's terrible tenure, was really in charge of the team. Schilling would tell Francona when and how long he would pitch and would, on some occasions, send Terry back to the dugout. In Philadelphia, Francona, known for being a players' manager and the proverbial nice guy, used a relatively hands-off approach to managing. Look at the success it brought. Granted, the Phillies were in rebuilding stages through most of Francona's reign of incompetence. But this is a guy who said while interviewing for the Orioles in 2003 that managing in Philadelphia was ... "the people in Philadelphia may not want to hear this ... almost like having a mulligan." He's right. As one of the few, the proud, and the perpetually angry Phillies fans (we went from 1987-2000 with one, count it, one winning season), I don't want to hear that. Who decided that Terry Francona was ever fit to manage anyway? Oh, I remember. It was Michael Jordan. Michael Jordan? Yes, Francona's biggest claim to fame (and arguably biggest success) was convincing Jordan to go back to basketball. As manager of the Double-A Birmingham Barons, Mr. Nice Guy coached the biggest superstar in sports to an illustrious .202 average. I'm quite indebted to Francona for bringing Jordan back to the NBA because, as a Chicago resident from 1995-1998, I witnessed three more title runs for the Bulls. Thanks Terry. Jordan, sticking up for his former manager and Yahtzee buddy (the two were big Yahtzee players in Birmingham), placed a call to then-Phillies General Manager Lee Thomas in 1997 on behalf of Francona, who was interviewing at the time. The rest, sadly enough, is history. Thanks Michael. You Sox fans don't realize what you have. You have a utility manager. Despite being the College Player of the Year in 1980 at the University of Arizona, Francona never gained more than utility-outfielder status in ten lackluster seasons with the Expos, Cubs, Reds, Indians, and Brewers. Overshadowed by his more successful father Tito, Terry Francona never fulfilled his potential as a player. Somewhere along the line, Red Sox General Manager Theo Epstein decided that a humdrum playing career and an atrocious managerial tenure were good enough for one of the most intensely scrutinized jobs in baseball. Are you scratching your head too? The first thing that came out of my mouth last December when I heard Francona would be taking over was a sarcastic chuckle. My barber, a devoted Yankee fan, felt much more confident in New York's success knowing that Francona would be calling the shots. Don't worry, I think I may have found Epstein's reasoning. Theo Moneyball Epstein, characterized by many as a statistics guru or geek (depending on your opinion of the 30-year old GM), may be looking at stats many of you non-Philly fans might have missed. Philadelphia hasn't had a championship since Jimmy Carter. Sure we've come close with the Phillies in 1983 and 1993, the Sixers in 2001, and the Flyers a few times in the late 1990s. I don't even want to talk about the Eagles perennial flops in the NFC Championship games. We are so starved for championships that this past spring, we looked to a horse (Smarty Jones) and a college basketball team (St. Joe's) for hope of a championship. But while Philadelphia continues to lose, the city hasn't let that reputation stop it from amassing a fine track record of firing, dismissing, or losing coaches who win with other teams. Let's look at the facts. The Philadelphia Eagles made the dubious decision in 1991 to hire Rich Kotite over then-defensive coordinator, now Tennessee Titans head coach Jeff Fisher (Super Bowl appearance in 1999, losing by the longest yard), as Buddy Ryan's successor as head coach. The team then let offensive coordinator Jon Gruden go to the Oakland Raiders, where he then moved to the Tampa Bay Buccaneers and led them to a 2003 Super Bowl victory (not to mention a victory over the Eagles in the NFC Championship game). And if the Eagles blow their chance to go the Super Bowl AGAIN this season, Mike Holmgren's Seattle Seahawks, with former Eagles head coach Ray Rhodes as defensive coordinator, could contend for the title. The Philadelphia Flyers and 76ers have done their part to help the record along. Former Flyers head coaches Mike Keenan (head coach with the New York Rangers in 1994), Craig Ramsey, and Bill Barber (both assistant coaches last season with the Tampa Bay Lightening) now have Stanley Cups on their respective resumes. Larry Brown, respected as a fine coach but never able to win a title, finally got an NBA Championship coaching the Detroit Pistons this past summer, a year after leaving the 76ers, where he coached for six seasons. And when Joe Carter was rounding third base after his Game 6 walk-off homer gave the Toronto Blue Jays the 1993 World Series, shaking Carter's hand as third base coach was former Phillies manager Nick Leyva, who I'm sure took great pleasure knowing the championship came against his former team. So Boston fans, the question is who's cursed now? Maybe your utility manager is exactly what the Sox need for a World Series title. I admit to being one of the nay-sayers throwing in the towel in July and early August, but Epstein's trade deadline magic (bringing in Cabrera and Mientkiewicz and sending Nomar packing) coupled with Francona's laid back "don't panic" style has righted the ship for the Yawkey Way heroes. Boston ran away with the American League wild card, winning by a comfortable seven game margin for its second straight wild card birth. Maybe Philadelphia has produced another diamond in the rough, and for Francona, Philly was rough. Perhaps Terry Francona can continue the Philadelphia tradition by leading Schilling, Pedro, Manny and Co. to victory. But I hate to remind you fans that, as the saying goes, nice guys finish last.


The Setonian
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CD review: Vox Waits: a journey to the center of the Voice

The most instantly recognizable facet of Tom Waits' act is his voice. A cross between Louis Armstrong gurgling turpentine and the Cookie Monster bellowing like a drunk hobo, Waits' vocal chords are so instantly identifiable that they've literally become a trademark. To wit: the singer successfully sued Frito-Lay in 1988 after the company copped his larynx-grinding delivery for a Doritos ad. Real Gone, Waits' 20th album, is a love-letter to the singer's nails and sandpaper vocals. Twisted, maimed, and cut-up, Waits' voice is center stage on the record; so much so that you can think of Real Gone as a concept album - a sort of Journey to the Center of the Voice. Track one finds our intrepid troubadour crawling down his own throat. By the finish (track 15), Waits emerges at the other end, covered in slime and booze, shrieking like a newborn. Recorded in an abandoned Mississippi schoolhouse with his wife and songwriting partner, Kathleen Brennan, Real Gone has the blues-derived dirges and teary-eyed ballads you would expect to find in that setting, as well as a few leftfield cuts (and that's saying a lot for an artist who has never exactly been centered) courtesy of Waits' 18-year-old son Casey and his turntables. In a move that Icelandic singer Bj?¶rk (another artist who's all vox) beat them to by a month, Waits and son created much of the percussion on Real Gone from snippets of dad's Tourettic howls. The result is a hall-of-mirrors effect, with a thousand Tom Waits roaring nonsensically from every dark corner of the album. Astonishingly and improbably, the experiment pays off. At times, Waits sounds like a speaker-of-tongues jazz scatting ("Baby Gonna Leave Me"). Elsewhere, it's as if he's coughing up a rat ("Metropolitan Glide"). "Top of the Hill," the album's opening track, and the place where Casey's scratching and Waits' army of permanently scratched voices meet most convincingly, is a testament to just how bizarrely brilliant Real Gone can be. Besides for the ever-present Waits-Voice, the other star of Real Gone is guitarist Marc Ribot. A longtime collaborator who hasn't collaborated in a long time, Ribot's grimy, staccato blues-riffs have been almost as integral to Waits' oeuvre as the singer's voice. In full form on Real Gone, Ribot's mannered playing provides a counterpoint to the cacophony above - he even gets a turn in the spotlight with a writhing guitar solo on "Hoist That Rag." It might be due to the family affair, or it might be Ribot's return, but Real Gone sounds like the most fun Waits has had in ages. As we've come to expect, the album has the regular parade of misfits, degenerates, and down-and-outs populating a world forever tearing apart at the seams. But there's a laughing self-parody of Waits' mystique that invades every edge of Real Gone, not only in the ever-multiplying voices, but in the very tissue of the songs. After setting up a particularly lamentable tale - "She took all my money / and my best friend" - Waits debases his own doom and gloom formula with, "You know the story / here it comes again." With the songs and the singing both doubling back upon themselves on Real Gone, it's tempting to see the latest album as yet another turning point in Waits already well-torqued career. From gin-soaked loser-lounge singer to boho experimenter to gnarled elder statesman, Waits' evolution has been constant but strangely timeless, as if every reinvention were planned well in advance. Part of the vacuum-sealed feel to Waits' career comes from the music itself. As the singer's demi-monde has become ever more intricate and introverted over the years, there's been an exponential break with reality. It's always fall in Waitsland; someone is always dying or getting drunk; a one-eyed carnie or a dim-witted giant is often skulking from afar. An album that isn't sure which way to turn, Real Gone represents a simultaneous break with and redoubled flight back into Waitsland. And so there are tracks that come off like second-rate karaoke (the spoken-word "Circus," which has the aforementioned carnies and dim-witted giants skulking in excess), alongside songs that have the look of standard Waits, but a different feel entirely - the devastating "Day After Tomorrow," which tells the story of a young soldier in Iraq longing for home: "What I miss you won't believe / shoveling snow and raking leaves." And while it's evident that Waits' songs have suddenly become topical, what's even odder is that the world itself has become a little more like a Tom Waits tune: bloodier, stranger, and sadder.


The Setonian
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Saj Pothiawala | The Tao of Saj

@bodytext: "I am a Romeo, am a Romeo with no place to go," goes the Sublime song. Amen, I say to that song. Amen indeed. By a show of hands who amongst those reading this has ever felt like a Romeo with no place to go? OK, put your hands down because you're all wrong. You haven't. I, however, know somebody who has experienced just the above situation. He is a man of unparalleled constitution, intellect, and impeccable coiffure. The following is the story of this man who was beaten by love, and destroyed by the weight of his own broken heart. Everybody gasp: that man is ME. Before I get started, this may be the second column I've written about women. (As you remember, the first was a women and sports treatise which earned the ire of, as a nameless friend called them, 'humorless skirts.' Of course I admonished him for calling them humorless.) However, please ignore this trend. My column will not center on the subject of women, as much interest as I have in the subject, and this very installment is really more about life than anything else. And about a woman. Oh hell, I give up. Our tale begins in fair London, where our dapper young American protagonist is studying for the semester. A quick character profile: he's really cool. So, our really cool, dapper protagonist is spending the first months of 2004 studying in London and taking in the amalgamation of all cultures stolen from conquered and imperialized lands that is repackaged as Britain. Whilst there he doth meet the object of his affection, and this is from whence our Shakespearean tragedy doth spring. Before I delve deeper into this wrenchingly pathetic episode in my inability to successfully communicate with girls, I must issue two disclaimers. Disclaimer 1: Any romantic notions of me as a womanizing ragamuffin should be discarded immediately. Seriously. Almost any attempt to talk to a pretty girls ends with me saying something stupid like "you have pretty socks" or "can I smell your hands?" Neither of which, I'm sure, Rick Solomon said to Paris Hilton before he videotaped himself having sex with her. OK, maybe he smelled her hands, but you get the point. Disclaimer 2: This girl was absolutely freaking gorgeous. I'm talking Catherine Zeta Jones in that scene from "Entrapment" where she slides under the laser beam gorgeous. You all know that scene, and I assure you I AM NOT EXAGGERATING. Now take that beauty you are now picturing in your perverted little minds, and contrast that against the backdrop of jolly old England, the home of driving on the wrong side of the road, horrible, horrible teeth, and David Beckham. Close your eyes and immerse yourself in that mental image. Look around, and count the attractive people. Having trouble are you? Assuming you know how to count, the problem here lies in a basic human biological fact: all British people are pudgy, pasty, and just plain super-nasty looking. But wait, what's that in the distance. Be it an angel? Nay, it is but a woman! This woman was my reluctant Juliet. This woman was red coat girl. For those of you outside the close group of 104 friends my facebook profile says I have, allow me to educate you on the phenomenon that is red coat girl. If you are one of the lucky 104, the chances are that you've probably heard more than your share about her, and you're just reading the rest of this as an act of charity. You patronizing bastards. Anyway, red coat girl was a vision of feminine perfection. She wore a long red coat that hugged her hips favorably and she walked with the gait of a goddess. Her long brown hair bounced gently and melodically with every step, and she had the pleasant facial features and soulful eyes of a movie star. I was completely hypnotized by her. Completely. I, and I'm not ashamed to admit this, even did creepy things just to perhaps catch a glimpse of her. I'd go to the computer lab and sit down nearby when I saw her there. I'd organize my laundry cycle so we'd be doing the wash at the same time. I'd carve her name into my forearm with a razor blade. OK, perhaps I didn't do some of that, but that's not really important. What's important was that I eventually found my chance to woo my Capuletian love. After an excursion to the local supermarket to buy my weekly victuals, with grocery bags hanging from my arms, my chance came. Just as she was entering the dormitory, I was approaching the entrance. "Carpe diem," I said to myself, and if you don't mind me saying I Carpe-d the bejesus out of that diem. "Can you hold the door please," I projected in the manliest of my manly voices, a voice usually saved for the fixing of flat tires or the purchasing of condoms at the pharmacy. Naturally she obliged and held the door open for me. THE METAPHORICAL DOOR I MEAN. Here was my chance to sweep my Juliet off her feet. "Thank you," I said to her as she smiled at me. And as she walked down the corridor to her room, and I down the opposite corridor to mine, I gave myself a high five and a pat on the back, because gosh darnit I deserved both. Naturally that was the first and last time I talked to red coat girl. For those of you expecting a grand Shakespearean tragedy or some sort of resolution, I apologize, I know I told you you'd get one. Frankly, I'm a realist. Red coat girl was out of my league. Quick metaphor: imagine she was Justin Timberlake. OK, now imagine that I was Bj?¶rk. By mine own eyes and convictions, JT doth NOT consorteth with Bj?¶rk, not even in a peculiar Shakespearean realm. I was thinking practically. Had Romeo thought practically he would have probably lived a long and comfortable life. Granted he would have been trapped in a miserable banal marriage with Rosaline, but isn't that just where we're heading anyway?


The Setonian
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Football: Jumbos, Casey rebound in 14-12 Homecoming victory

Senior quarterback Jason Casey bounced back from one of the worst games of his career to lead Tufts to a 14-12 win against the Bates Bobcats on Saturday. Casey, who was intercepted three times in the Jumbos' season opening loss to Wesleyan a week ago, threw and ran for 239 of the Jumbos' 248 yards. "It was important for me to play well," Casey said. "It gives us a little more confidence. Coming off of a loss, and especially because the offense didn't play well, we needed to move the ball." After neither team scored in the first quarter, Tufts took a 7-0 lead early in the second when Casey found sophomore Brian VonAncken for a 31-yard touchdown pass. The play was set up by sophomore John Chappell's recovery of a Bates fumble at the Bobcat 34-yard line. As the Tufts running game stalled - senior running back Steve Cincotta gained just nine yards on 12 carries - Casey's passing game became even more important. "Bates showed a lot of different looks," Casey said. "They almost always put eight in the box. Not just against us, against everybody they really focus on taking away the run. I knew that meant we were going to have to rely on the passing game." The Jumbos struck again later in the quarter, with senior Kevin Holland scoring on a 20-yard pass from Casey to cap a 53-yard drive. Holland took the short pass over the middle and got into the end zone with a brilliant display of running. He twisted his way in for the score after being met by two defenders at the five-yard line. The Bobcats threatened on the ensuing possession, but sophomore safety Brett Holm picked off a pass by Bates quarterback Brandon Colon to end the drive. It was one of three interceptions by Tufts on the day. The lead stayed at 14-0 into the fourth quarter, when Bates staged a late comeback. Early in the quarter the Bobcats scored on an eight play, 50-yard drive. Eric Obeng, a defensive lineman who comes in for Bates in short yardage situations, capped it off with a one-yard touchdown run. Kicker Tyler Schmels missed the extra point, a play that would prove costly for Bates. Tufts drove into Bobcat territory on its next possession, but junior Phil Scialdoni - who converted the extra point on both Jumbo touchdowns earlier in the game - missed a 42-yard field goal. Bates took over at its own 25-yard line and drove 75 yards on 10 plays. The Jumbos forced the Bobcats into a fourth and one on the 30-yard line, but Obeng broke through the Tufts defense for a long touchdown run. Bates went for the two point conversion to try to tie the score, but Colon's pass was broken up in the end zone by junior Patrick Magoon. The Bobcats got the ball back with a little under seven minutes to go in the game and moved deep into Tufts territory. On fourth and one on the 29-yard line, Bates elected not to attempt the field goal, but instead ran the ball with Obeng again. This time, however, he was stuffed by sophomore Chris Decembrele and junior Sean Mullin. Casey finished 14 of 28 for 185 yards and the two scores. He also ran 14 times for 54 yards. One of the Jumbos' most effective plays on the day was a quarterback keeper out of the shotgun. "Most of the time those were designed plays, a designed quarterback draw," Casey said. "Sometimes I just took off though. I like running, if it's there. Coach always tells me not to force the ball, just to take off running." Holland had six catches for 78 yards and VonAncken added 73 yards on four receptions. Senior quad-captain Chris Lawrence had 12 tackles to lead Tufts defensively. After the game Casey talked about how important it was to earn a win early in the NESCAC season. "It was extremely important for us to win this game," Casey said. "The league has a lot of parity. Trinity, Williams, and Amherst are supposed to be good teams, but I think they can all be beat. So one loss is a big deal. And I think this win gives us a lot of confidence going into the Bowdoin game next week."Check out The Tufts Daily's 2004 Homecoming slideshow!



The Setonian
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Media missed biggest point in debates

One crucial point lacking from any published overview of last night's debate in any paper I've seen was Kerry's mention of the use of fear to gain and maintain support for the current administration. Bush's approach to protecting the country involves scaring the beejeezus out of its citizens. Keep repeating the words "war on terror" and the ever-ominous "enemy," and you've got people who are already uncertain about the state of today's world shaking in their boots. After 9/11, Bush made it clear that we as a country are currently threatened and vulnerable (though "we will prevail"), and that we should feel entitled to be the threatening country rather than the threatened. (But if we are going to criticize the undemocratic eye-for-an-eye policy that has prevailed in Arab countries, we should take a good look at our own moral dilemma of preventing terrorism in our homeland by becoming terrorists in other countries.) Rather than promoting a foreboding sense of "do what I say or the terrorists will gitcha!," Kerry plans to use truth and dialogue to work out problems both abroad and at home. In a representative democracy, this is what should define a president.Abigail Al-DooryG '05



The Setonian
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Football ready to take on Bates for Homecoming game

After a disappointing 37-7 loss to Wesleyan last week, the football team is hoping to rebound in tomorrow's Homecoming game against Bates. Tufts will try to make it two straight Homecoming wins in a row, after dominating Bowdoin 26-7 in last year's game. Despite the poor showing in the opener, coach Bill Samko isn't worrying yet.


The Setonian
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Chechnya and Palestine comparison misleading

Chechnya and Palestine comparison misleading In response to Stephan Vitvitsky's Sept. 28 column ("Tragedy of Chechnya"), I find the parallel used to link the situation between the Israelis and the Palestinians with that of the Chechens and the Russians to be misleading and unfounded. Making the assertion that [Russia] "turned Chechnya into a Palestinian-like atmosphere, with constant checkpoints and random searches," cheapens both the conflict in the Caucasus and the Middle East by attempting to encapsulate complex and multifaceted issues into a cute sound byte. This attempted link conveys a distorted and incomplete depiction of Israel and the Palestinian Territories. The situation in the Middle East requires a vocal and vigorous discourse that should not be mired by such cheap shots. I hope that in the future more care and consideration will be taken when addressing these subjects.Alex Zerden LA '07



The Setonian
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Slamming the night away at The Cantab Lounge

A Wednesday night at The Cantab Lounge in Central Square is like an Orlando Cabrera-Doug Mientkiewicz double play during a Red Sox game. A lot happens in a short amount of time.


The Setonian
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Rascal's 'Showtime' not up to par

Dizzee Rascal's second CD is much like many other artist's sophomore efforts. There are the obligatory lyrics about fame and how hard it is to live with it, but Rascal's new album lacks the shock value of his first.


The Setonian
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Third all-freshman dorm in the works

The Office of Residential Life and Learning (ORLL) is moving towards creating a third all-freshmen dorm next year to be located in Hill Hall, but some problems remain before plans can be finalized.


The Setonian
News

Cochran is unaware of the dangers

I was appalled and personally offended by Evan Cochran's comments in his latest column, "A stupid thing to draw lines over" (Sept. 30). In his column, he fiercely defends his use of cocaine and disregards the judgment of his critics. As a self-proclaimed "expert on the subject," Cochran feels that one reason cocaine is the new party drug is because it is "a whole lot of fun." In doing so, he entirely dismisses the seriousness of chronic narcotic use, and could very well be comparing his habit to an animated game of chess with grandpa. So, am I an expert? Hardly. But what I can say is that I've seen what happens when cocaine users think that they're invincible, when they are, as Mr. Cochran stated, "young and out-of-control and reckless." On Aug. 5, 2003, a very close friend of mine died at the hands of cocaine abuse. He was a brilliant musician, a great friend and only 22 years old. If doing cocaine is as good a time as Mr. Cochran proclaims, I would like him to tell me how it feels to watch your brother get a gun put to his head in a drug deal gone awry. I would like him to tell me how it feels to see one of your best friends overdose and become brain damaged, unable to play a single chord on the red Fender guitar he used to master. I would like him to tell me how it feels to watch your hero die. I therefore have trouble reconciling my own past with Mr. Cochran's assertion that he and his friends "don't feel that any of these things are wrong." I can only wonder what it will take for them to be bombarded by reality and admit otherwise. This is not intended to be a personal attack. Mr. Cochran may very well be, using his own words, a "spectacular person," but he must realize that he is not indestructible. The fact that he is intelligent and college-educated doesn't exclude him from the dangers of cocaine. I just hope that he, unlike my friends, doesn't have to learn that lesson the hard way.Lisanne Petracca LA '06


The Setonian
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Graduating students want their own path

Tufts degree? Check. Resume full of internships? Check. Three-piece suit? Check. Life-long series of uninteresting jobs with a six-figure salary? Not so fast.



The Setonian
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Faculty dining room to be completed soon

Students who noticed the construction by Carmichael Hall and hoped for a new dining area will find that the new annex is intended mostly for faculty, not students.


The Setonian
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Students can win free tuition this Homecoming Weekend

Tufts students will have the opportunity to win a year of free tuition, room and board during this upcoming Homecoming weekend. The contest will take place during half-time of the Homecoming football game tomorrow.