Creme dela Cramer

One glance at the freshmen football team in practice is enough to convince you the talent is not equally distributed. There are 20 guys Harvard really wants to play--you know, the ones whose names are on the starting roster in mid-August. And there are 80 guys, clawing, groping vainly for some coach to nod their way. They show that aimless hustle--the hustle of an athlete who's wearing the yellow, green or most likely shredded red jersey, emblematic of those fifth or sixth strings to which they must cling.

What is it that keeps them going? What inspires those guys who stare enviously at a patch of bench or the ones who'll never even dress for the J.V. scrimmage? Oh, they'll tell you it's for "the love of the game," or some other well-bandied phrase, but a more perceptive eye sees right through that centennial helmet--right down to that last big game, that vestige of glory--the previous senior year.

Every season it is the same story. It's that vision of once more hitting the tight end for six big ones, or scrambling unscathed among a field of dwarfing foes, or booting one deep into the end-zone, beyond the enemy's reach.

But this year something is different. The scenario is still similar; it's that same athlete one year removed from his glorious senior year and he is still unsure about whether he should hang it up or not.

Except for this time it's Jimmy Stoeckel who's tossing the towel around. Yes, the same Stoeckel who was last year's all-Ivy quarterback, the one who re-authored all of those old punting records, the player who first filled the --------to McInally gap we endure today.

It was a strange combination of final-cut deadlines and roster limits which brought Stoeckel back to his part-time job of aiding freshman Coach Chet O'Neil's young quarterbacks, while working daily at an Arlington sporting goods firm.

Stoeckel is a long way off from commanding the Canadian Football League's Hamilton Tiger Cats, the team that sent him packing on the last day of summer camp. "I wish I had been cut earlier," a regretful Stoeckel said after yesterday's practice. "Then I would have had a chance to pick up with another team, but it was just too late."

Although he logged much playing time during the CFL's short, four-game exhibition season, Stoeckel had more than his inexperience and small stature going against him. "Unlike in the States, the Canadians keep only two quarterbacks, and they don't have a taxi squad, so they had no room for me," says Stoeckel. "But I was still a little shocked when they cut me."

After receiving notice, Stoeckel headed south with reassurances from his Canadian coach that he still had the ability to play professional ball. Although he says he "never entertained the thought" he could play in the NFL with his size, the 5 ft. 11 inch rollout-style quarterback won't quit his dream of returning to the CFL or possibly the World Football League, next year.

And it is this desire which makes him grasp for any form of football, whether it be the relatively obscure capacity of passing on his accumulated knowledge of the "Restic system" to some timid freshman quarterback, or cranking out bombs destined for the outstretched arms of Canadian and American receivers.

So now one of Harvard's greater recent quarterbacks mixes it up three days a week with the guys who make him feel most at home. While the debate to shelve the cleats lingers on in both the freshmen's and Stoeckel's minds, the young coach, who lacks only the authority of a chip board, will continue to bark out calls, slap pads and soothe butterfinger-aggravated egos.

And yet you must wonder how long Stoeckel can keep up with this tenuous tie to the pigskin. How he can wait out the endless winter months in search of a fleeting spot on a 32-man roster. But until you see him cheering as chalkboard dream unfolds into a T.D. or smiling as the defensive unit mows down an illfated sweep, you can't chide him when he says "For me right now football is the thing that means the most, in my life. I've just go to give it another shot."