Only two and one half hours transpired between the time that Harvard failed to convert a Boston University fumble into a touchdown and the moment when Jim Kenary took the ball from center and ran, and ran, and ran, backwards, sidewards, and forwards to consume the last dangerous forty five seconds of play. To some 33,000 loudly partisan spectators it seemed like a hell of a long time.

Not even in the usually placid interval between halves did last Saturday's high pitch of excitement waver. Definitely outclassed instrumentally along the ground, the B.U. band resorted to the use of their air arm to gain a tie in the much heralded-by BU tub thumpers-battle of the bands.

Terrier strategists landed curvaceous drum majorette Priscilla "Cookie" Cook from a helicopter which descended upon the newly sodded spot where the recently burned initials of B.U. were barely visible. "Cookie's" high stopping and wide swinging almost scorched the stadium floor anew.

Hot Afternoon

Next to the torrid Miss C., the hottest thing of the afternoon was the weather. Seventy five degrees brought sweat stains into plain sight after the first ten minutes of play and took a heavy toll of both team's avoirdupois.

After the game Dick Harlow bet the newsmen that Howie Houston, a tremendous tackle all afternoon, lost at least ten pounds during the course of play.

It was one bet that nobody won. A manager who was sent scurrying after the weight chart returned with the information that Howie had not weighed in after the game. He had fallen asleep on the rubbing table. Maybe he was training for next week's trip to the sleepy south.

I'm a-comin' Virginia.