Another Winter of Discontent at Northeastern?

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The Beanpot gives bleak February color, noise, and chatter.
To most outside of Boston, I suppose it doesn’t matter
Who wins the Pot each season, and which team’s made up of bums,
As bands from all four colleges blow trumpets and beat drums
And blast away on tubas, too, and shout their fearsome cheers…
Some rough enough so all the refs might wish they had no ears.

But if you’re craving balance, or you value a surprise,
There’s just one team to root for in this February prize.
It’s not the BU Terriers, who’ve finished on the top
So often that a lot of folks would much prefer they stop.
It’s not the hotshots at BC, bound for the NHL,
For they have been the U.S. champs and won the Pot as well
Enough so that they half-expect that second Monday night
Will offer up a final in which they will gamely fight.
It also isn’t Harvard, for they’re Harvard, after all.
And they are rich and priv’leged, nor will Harvard ever fall,
No matter how the hockey team makes out as time rolls on,
For Harvard’s known for brains, I’m told, and not so much for brawn.

That leaves us with the snarling dogs, or actually the hounds
Of Huntington, the street where brave Northeastern can be found.
They’re brave ’cause they show up each winter, though they rarely win.
Perhaps this year they will. Who knows? Perhaps they will begin
A dynasty of winning, and the Pot will find itself
A shiny bauble on Northeastern hockey’s trophy shelf.
It is a consummation that I wish would come to be…
“Devoutly” wishing for it might seem overboard to me,
And will I bet on that result? I’ll make my answer plain:
I like to cheer for underdogs, but I am not insane.