When Life Throws You a Nor’easter
Graphic by Caleb Boyce
When life gives you lemons, you make lemonade.
When life gave defensive back Xaden Benson ’28 a lemon (aka a Nor’easter) this past Friday, he caught three interceptions that helped secure Harvard’s 14-10 victory over Brown. A performance I would certainly call making lemonade.
While some braved the torrential downpour and crowded Amtrak trains to Providence this past weekend—borg in hand—to support the dudes wearing the Crimson jerseys, others braved something arguably much worse: the mystery virus that has suddenly and violently taken campus by storm.
You see, just a few days earlier I had ecstatically told my dear friend and conductor of the Harvard Band, Jack Wilder ’28, how I was going to:
Attend the Harvard-Brown game.
Spotlight our awesome band and fabulous cheerleaders in my colorful commentary.
And, most importantly, reveal the perfectly catchy title I had for my article!
Well—spoiler alert: I spoke too soon.
A humble 24 hours later, I succumbed not only to a 100-degree fever but also a sore throat that I can only compare to what I imagine it would be like to swallow hydrochloric acid. Given these super fun circumstances, there was simply so much a girl could do.
Writing off a $12 ticket off SeatGeek, I wrote the catchy article title down in my notes app for safekeeping—better luck next year!
Between coming down with an infection and Friday night’s kickoff, forecasts of a “generational” Nor’easter began to circulate (slightly overhyped, but alas, we digress). The weather was unfortunate for classmates in attendance—and certainly for the passing accuracy of Brown’s football team—but I must make the selfish confession that less-than-ideal weather conditions made missing the game a much easier pill to swallow.
By game day, I was both steadily on the mend and resolved to swerve the FOMO of missing the event in person. I made big plans. My big plans? Glad you asked! I went to my friend’s dorm in the Leverett Towers, watched the game, and DoorDashed copious amounts of Taco Bell. What I failed to account for in these big plans was the fact that, during my three-day recovery from the delights of the “frat flu,” I somehow managed to fall behind in not one, not two, but all five of my classes. Crazy, but rather unsurprising, how fast this can happen—especially in the time of Amanda Claybaugh.
What should I have done next? I probably should have spent Friday’s game in my dorm, catching up on work and sleep. But, nope! I did not care—I. Had. A. Game. To. Catch.
Determined to finish my work before 7 p.m., I unlocked an unlikely source of motivation. My inner monologue took the shape of—and this takes a lot of courage to admit—those inspirational sports edits that are almost certainly made by a 14-year-old. Regardless, my mind fixated on the thought that if our football team was about to play through a godforsaken Nor’easter, I could certainly get some assignments turned in before 11:59 p.m. without missing a single play. After all, I would probably recognize some players on the ESPN broadcast because they are in the very classes in which I had fallen behind.
I’m not writing this article to extend the sports analogy my DayQuil-clouded judgment came up with as toxic study motivation. Although, getting all of my assignments completed on time did feel somewhat comparable to taking a knee to wind down the clock in the style of newly named QB1 Charlie Smith ’29.
No, the moral of the story here is that things like the weather conditions of a football game or the topic of an article change unexpectedly. For athletes and for people in general, adaptability is a valuable skill. We can plan all we want, but let us be really honest with ourselves: when does life ever go to plan?
Harvard students love to plan. I run out of fingers on both hands counting all the people I know who have some form of Google Sheet with their entire four years laid out in advance. Some of them even take great pleasure in habitually returning to this document when they want to procrastinate on the work they have in the present (you know who you are). To me, this behavior certainly says something about our fixation on the future.
I may be outing myself as Type B here, but I utterly hate the concept of a five-year plan. Having long-term goals—that is one thing. Even if I survive off those. However, convincing ourselves that only a certain set of conditions can yield our desired outcome is something completely different—something that likely sets us up for failure more than it does success.
To give up on a long-term goal because you did not get the grade or the internship you wanted is comparable to football players waking up on Friday and saying, “Oh! Looks like it’s going to rain today. Welp, guess I can’t play anymore.” Most of us know, without a doubt, that a decision like that would be slammed on Sidechat. So why can’t we see the flaws in our own logic when we sacrifice our goals just because things did not go according to plan?
I tend to avoid mixing sports analogies and heartfelt life advice; I find the combination generally isn’t a crowd-pleaser. However, I do think there is a lot to learn from how athletes not only overcome but win in the unexpected circumstances that arise in sports.
Although, sadly, I cannot say I pulled off a defensive hat-trick during a Nor’easter this past weekend, I guess ordering Taco Bell and writing an unserious article about it was my way of making lemonade.
Megan Legault ’28 (mlegault@college.harvard.edu) encourages others to do their part in preventing the spread of “frat flu.”