"It's weird, some of the guys I look to in the NHL," he says, pointing at a poster of Vancouver netminder Kirk McLean that hangs in his room. "I think he's awesome," this last word enunciated with all the fire of one who can fully backup such an assertion.

"But you know, his style could not be any more different than mine--he stands back in the net, he's a huge guy, yet I love him. It was so good to see him do well in the Stanley Cup playoffs last year against Mike Richter, who is really more of a 'model' of my style," the term being used loosely.

Is McLean an underrated NHL goalie? In a way, no, says Tracy, and to decipher why he thinks this is to understand why Tracy can be so brilliant in one game and so god-awful in the next.

"If you don't have the ability, and if you don't win the big game, you will never be recognized as a quality goaltender," he says. "Until last year, McLean hadn't won anything remotely resembling a big game for the Canucks, and I think that's the most important factor for any athlete: being able to rise up for the big game."

He continues "Ask people why they think Patrick Roy is the best goalie of all time, they'll tell you it's because he's won so many big games. He's good in the regular season, yeah, but he steps it up such a noticeable notch in the postseason, and that's what people remember in the history books."

Boston sports fans will probably always remember Tracy's monstrous 32-save performance against Boston University in the 1993 Beanpot Final as his signature game, a true master-piece in puck-stopping.

But with Tracy, you get the whole package, which includes those depressingly awful 7-6 losses at Colgate as well as the titanic ECAC play-off shutouts, and he knows this is his biggest psychological shortcoming between the pipes.

"No question, there's a huge disparity there, and it's perhaps the biggest personal challenge I have--I've gotta want to come to play every night," he says. "Let's be blunt: over the past two years, in the games that haven't gotten the hype or the publicity, I have a history of not coming to play.

"Look, say, at last year's game at Dartmouth [in a half-filled arena, Harvard escaped 5-4 in overtime]--I didn't play well at all. I have no doubts in my confidence as far as playing well in the big games: I've done it before, and I will continue to do it. But with the increased responsibility I get within a one-goalie system, I've gotta be up for the Colgate game and every other one like it, and I know that."

Not every athlete, much less every goalie, is willing to open his or her mouth and speak in such a vein of self-deprecation. One of Tracy's defining personality traits is this strong sense of punishing honesty he radiates, so starkly contrasting with the average. SportsCenter sound bite.

"I believe in being blunt, even though sometimes that can get you in trouble," he says "Criticizing yourself and realizing that you sometimes do things wrong is one of the keys to becoming a better player"--and a better person, he might add.

Almost unique among athletes in the glare of the media spotlight, Tracy carries this attitude around all tape recorders, microphones and reporter's notebooks.

"I personally know if I let in a bad goal--why should I keep that inside? There's just no use in denying that to yourself or to others," he says.

Talking about his professional prospects, he paints an equally candid, if rather dim, picture of what a 5-foot-10, 165-pounder can hope to accomplish with ninth-round draft status (like Israel, his rights are held by the Flyers) and a Beanpot ring as credentials. Even after his superlative freshman season. Tracy was drafted two rounds below Israel, scouts always preferring the upright model to the unorthodox one.

"I'm small-that's one strike against me," he says. "And I've got this rambunctious style, nothing at all like an Israel or the more stand-up style that's preferred in the pros--that's another strike."