To The Tables Down At Yorkside… (Wherever That May Be)

The Game. For generations, it has been referred to as that. Not the “Yale Harvard game” (or alternatively, depending on your home team, the “Harvard game” or the “Yale game”). No. It’s simply “The Game.”

That tells you everything you need to know. There may be other contests throughout the fall sports season. There may be other seasons throughout the year. But only one singular event towers above all. It is the ultimate game (or at least it used to be—but more on that in a moment) of the Ivy League football season. It is the world’s second-longest continuous football rivalry (behind only Yale-Princeton). Students, alumni, and affiliates of New Haven and Cambridge eagerly await the finale between Yale and Harvard.

But it’s not just “a” game; it is “the” game, as in “The Game.”

People don’t go merely to watch a classic eleven-on-eleven gridiron clash. They go for the event, the camaraderie, the ability to say you were there. In other words, what happens at the tailgate generally offers more substance than what happens on the field. Or at least, that’s the expectation. After all, it’s just Ivy League football. You know what I mean. The kind of football where the athletes actually attend class.

Hmm, let me rephrase that. It’s the kind of football where the athletes actually want to attend class (and do).

So it’s more of a gentleman’s game. If you attend one of the game-watching parties across the nation, you’d see this firsthand. Despite the name, people aren’t watching the game; they’re talking with each other. It’s not a football affair; it’s a networking event.

Of course, this does not differ from what happens at the game site. Yale has acres and acres of open fields surrounding its famous Yale Bowl (the century-old architectural marvel that offered the blueprint for modern football stadiums). It is on this vast grassy expanse that game-goers park their cars and tailgate. If they’re lucky, they’ll get into the stadium by halftime. Priorities, you understand.

In case you’re wondering, yes, I was in New Haven for The Game this year. The kids wanted to go. Catarina went with me in 2019 for the infamous protest game that almost cost Yale the Ivy League title. (Some eco-protesters occupied the field during halftime and refused to leave. At the time, the Yale Bowl had no lights, and the game would have been called because of darkness had not Yale won in the second overtime.) Catarina had such a good time that she wanted to go again. Peter had never been, so he wanted to go. The last time Betsy went was a rainy day vs. Princeton (it was raining so bad we left at halftime and watched the rest of the game at Rudy’s—the original Rudy’s, not the new location).

Cesidia, who could care less about the tradition of Cortaca let alone Yale vs. Harvard, opted to stay in LA until we got back home from New Haven.

Catarina met us at the hotel in New Haven, having flown in directly to New Haven’s air shack (to call it an airport would be excessive). We got in just in time for dinner. And you know what that means. Yorkside.

Yorkside has become a tradition in itself. Its roots reach back deep into the undergraduate years, when we Davenporters made it a hangout (that continues into our reunion years). It’s like an indoor tailgate. Naturally, then, when I brought my family to New Haven over the years, we’d regularly find ourselves at a Yorkside table enjoying pizza. So, whenever the kids go to New Haven, the first thing they expect is pizza at Yorkside.

The next morning brought rain, as expected. It stopped by ten (also as expected), so by the time we left, we had no worries about getting wet. Despite paying for parking, it didn’t appear to matter which parking lot we parked in. After a long wait, we landed in Parking Lot Q (instead of our assigned D). We popped out of the car and headed toward the tent city girding the Bowl.

For once, The Game surpassed the tailgate. We all agreed. Not just the family, but our classmates we sat next to. Well, truth be told, low expectations played a large role in this. Clearly, based on what we experienced in 2019, we expected more from the tailgate. It failed to deliver. Conversely, going up against undefeated Harvard with a questionable Yale team left us expecting the worst (someone we know close to the team said he expected a blowout—and not one favorable to us).

So, when Yale quickly jumped out to a big lead, we were pleasantly surprised. The Elis just seemed to have wanted it more than the Cantabs. That’s the way the entire game played out.

Oddly, there was more than an Ivy League title (or, in the case of Yale, a share of it) the two teams were fighting for. The winner of The Game would automatically receive the first FCS playoff bid. That would be quite an honor. One that history would forever remember. Why, then, did Harvard’s effort seem so lame?

It turns out not only was Harvard guaranteed to earn at least a share of the Ivy League title, but, given their FCS rank, win or lose, they were virtually guaranteed to get invited to the playoffs. Indeed, they were, meaning both Yale (who received the automatic bid) and Harvard (who received an at-large bid) became the first Ivy League schools to play in the college postseason playoffs.

For what it’s worth, neither was expected to last very long. Indeed, Villanova mercilessly showed the Crimson were nothing more than cannon fodder, beating Harvard 52-7 in the first round.

Yale seemed destined to suffer a similar devastating defeat. Down three touchdowns in the fourth quarter, ESPN gave them barely a 1% chance of beating Youngstown State. But the battle of the Y’s flipped the script with the Yale Blue staging a dramatic come-from-behind victory that proved the Ivy League can more than hold its own against the FCS elite.

But these games were a week away when we left The Game. We headed to Davenport for the anticipated afterparty. The courtyard was empty. We had time to kill before heading to Ingall’s Rink (where Yale would beat Brown 3-1, capping a perfect weekend and fulfilling Peter’s desire to see a game there). What to do in the meantime?

…to the tables down at Yorkside we returned.