Three I got hurt in the Cornell match.It was my own fault,really.In an angry momen t i made the bad mistake of calling the Cornell centre man a "damn Canadian."My mistake was that i had forgotten that four other men in their team were also Can adians.All,it now turned out,were big and strong and full of national pride.And all of them heard what i said and moved in to the attack.Naturally,there was a f ight.And the referee gave met he penalty.And not a common one either:five minute s in the penalty box,for fighting.You should have heard the Cornell fans shout w hen they heard about that.Not many Harvard fans had come all the way to Ithaca,N ew York,even thouth the Universities title depended on this match.Five minutes!I could see our team manager tearing his hair out in handfuls as i climbed into t he box. Then Jackie Felt came rushing up to me.I hadnt realized until then that the whole right side of my face was coverd with blood."My God."Jackie said again and again as he cleaned up my cheek."My God,Ollie." I sat quietly,looking straight in front of me.I was ashamed ot look out on t o the ice.But my worst fears came true anyway:Cornell scored a goal.The Cornell fans sreamed and shouted.The score was 3-3 now.Cornell could very possibly win t he game-and with it the Universities title.Damn!-and i hadnt even gone through h alf of my penalty time. Across the ice,the tiny group of Harvard fans sat silent and stony-faced.By now the fans for both sides had forgotten me.Only one man still had his eyes on the penalty box.Yes,he was there. Sitting among the Harvard fans was Oliver Barrett the Third.Across the ice,o ld Stonyface watched in expressionless silence as the last bit of blood was clea ned off the face of his only son.What was in his mind then,do you think? "Oliver,if yuo like fighting so much,why dont you join the boxing team?" "Our college hasnt got a boxing team,Father." "Well,perhaps i shouldnt come to watch your hockey matches." "Do you think i fight to please you,Father?" "Well,i wouldnt say'to please me'." But,of course,who could tell what he was thinking?Oliver Barrett 3.Old Stony face. Perhaps it was pride that made Old Stony come here. "Look at me.There are very few Harvard people here this evening,but i am one of them,I,Oliver Barrett the Third,a very busy man with banks and things like t hat to organize.I have taken the time to come up to Cornell,just for a hockey ma tch." How wonderful.For whom? The crowd screamed again.They were really wild this time.Another Cornell goa l.They were in front now.And i still had two minutes of penalty time to go!Davey Johnson passed me.He was red-faced and angry.He passed right by me without even looking in my direction.And did i see tears in his eyes?Surely not.I mean well, OK,it was an important match,but my God-tears!But then Davey,our captain,had alw ays been unbelievably lucky.In seven years of hockey in hihg school and college, he had never played on a losing side.And here he was in his last year at college .And this was our last big game. Which we lost,six goals to three. After the match,they examined me and made sure no bones were broken.And then the Cornell doctor put twelve stiches in my cheek.Jackie Felt stayed in the med ical room,telling the Cornell doctor that i wasnt eating properly. "If he'd eaten enough salt,"said Jackie,"all this would never have happened. " The doctor did not take any notice of Jackie.He warned me very seriously abo ut nearly damaging my eye.After they left i was glad to be alone. I bathed,taking care not to wet my hurt face.The effects of the stuff they g ave me to stop the pain were starting to wear off.But i was somehow glad to feel the pain.I mean,i'd made a fool of myself,hadnt i?We'd lost the match,lost the Universities tile,and also been defeated for the first time.Maybe the fault was not completely mine.But just then i felt that it was. There was nobody else in the changing-room.They must all be at the hotel alr eady.Isupposed that no one wanted to see me or to speak to me.With the taste of defeat in my mouth-i felt so bad,i could taste it-i packed up my things and walk ed out.There were not many Harvard fans out there in wintry,wild NewYork State. "How's the cheek,Barrett?" "O.K.,thank you,Mr Jencks." "You'll probably want a steak,son,"said another voice that i knew.It was Oli ver Barrett 3.I thought:They always put steak on a black eye in the old days.It' s just like Old Stonyface to suggest that for me now. "Thank you,Father,"I said."The doctor took care of it."i showed him the band age that covered the twelve stiches. "I meant for you to eat,son." At dinner,we had another of our non-conversations,in which we spoke to each other without telling each other anything.This conversation was exactly like al l the others.They all started with"How have you been,son?"and ended with"Is ther e anything i can do for you?" "How have you been,son?"my father began. "Fine,sir." "Does your face hurt?" "No,sir." It was beginning to hurt horribly. "I'd like Jack Wells to look at it on Monday." "That's not necessary,father." "He's an excellent doctor--" "The Cornell man wasnt exaclty a horse-doctor,"i said,"Or were you perhaps s uggesting that i behaved like an animal this evening?" His expression suggested some pleasure at hearing me ask him. But he simply replied,"You were the one who mentioned horse-doctors."At this point in the non- conversation our steaks came. As we ate,Old Stony began to speak on one of his favourite subjects-victorie s and defeats.He said that we had lost the tile(how clever of you to notice that ,Father),but after all,in sport,the thing that matters is the playing,not the wi nning.Any minute now,I though,he's going to remind me that the Universities titl e isnt much compared with the Olympic Games.(He had taken part in the Amsterdam Olympics.)I just looked down at my plate and said"Yes,sir" in the right place. Our non-conversation followed the usual lines. And so My Plans came next. "Tell me,Oliver,have you heard from the Law School?" "Actually,Father,I hadnt absolutely decided on law school." "I was only asking if law school had absolutely decided on you." Was this a joke?Was i supposed to laugh?i said,"No,sir.I havent heard." "I could telephone the Dean." "NO!"i said at once."Please dont,sir." "Not to persuade him,of course.Just to ask." "Father,i want to get the letter like everyone else.Please." "Yes,of course,Fine." "Thank you,sir." "Besides,there isnt really much doubt about your getting in,"he added. I dont know why,but Oliver Barrett 3 has a way of making me feel small,even when he is saying nice things about me. "It isnt certain,"i replied."They dont have a hockey team,after all." I have no idea why i said this.Maybe it was just because he was taking the o pposite view,and I had to disagree with him out of habit. "You have other qualities," said Oliver Barrett 3,but he did not say what th ey were.(I doubt if he could have said,anyway.) The meal was as uninteresting as the conversation.Except that i knew the bre ad would be two days old before it arried,and it was.But i could never be sure w hat subject my father would raise next. "And there's always the Peace Corps,"he said suddenly. "Sir?"i asked,not quite sure what this was leading up to. "I think the Peace Corps is a fine thing,dont you?"he said. "Well,"i replied,"it's certainly better than the War Corps." We were equal now.I didnt know what he meant,and he didnt know what i meant. Was that subject of conversation finished now? NO. I had forgetten,just for a mo ment,that our main subject of conversation is always My Plans. "I would not mind at all if you joined the Peace Corps,Oliver." "I feel the same about you,sir,"i replied,equally warmly.i'm sure Old Stony never listens to me anyways,so i'm not surprised that he didnt notice my little joke. At about eleven thirty,i walked with him to his car. "Anything i can do ,son?" "No,sir.Goodnight,sir" And he drove off.Yes,there are planes between Boston and Ithaca,New York,but Oliver Barrett 3 chose to drive.It is not that those many hours at the wheel of his car are a sign of a parent's love for,or pride in,his son.My father simply likes to drive. I went back to the hotel to telephone Jenny.That was the only good part of t he evening.I told her all about the fight(leaving out exactly what we had been f ighting about).I could tell that she enjoyed it.Not many of her musical friends got into fights. "Did you at least flatten the man who hit you?" she asked. "Yes,I really flattened him." "I wish i could have seen it.Maybe you'll flatten somebody in the Yale match ?" "Yes." I smiled.How she loved the simple things of life