Jonathan Margulies: Prepare for a safe celebration

Cross your fingers.

Knock on wood.

Get on the Internet and research tribal rituals, start dropping by local fortune tellers, plan a seance -- do whatever you can to rid this campus and our beloved football stadium of bad karma. Because I'm about to make a bold prediction, and there's no reason to bring upon a jinx when it can be avoided:

The Pennsylvania Quakers will win the 2001 Ivy League football championship.

They will defeat a talented Harvard team in Cambridge this weekend. And they will go on to vanquish Cornell a week later -- at home -- to clinch sole possession of the Ancient Eight's most coveted trophy.

Their victory, capping off a truly dominating season, should be a source of great pride for this University and for the players on Al Bagnoli's squad. And it will, inevitably, push the Red and Blue faithful into reviving a tradition that hasn't been fully realized since Penn's current seniors were but wee freshmen.

A goalpost will come down.

As every proper tour guide knows, University tradition dictates that when the Quakers win the Ivy League title at home, fans are expected to rush the field, tear down the western goalpost and march it down South Street, where it is to be promptly tossed into the Schuylkill River.

Students last invoked their traditional right in 1998, when Penn clinched the Ivy title with a convincing win over the Crimson at Franklin Field. On that cold November day, thousands of students defied both the threats of Public Safety officials and the imposing presence of riot gear-clad police officers, and swarmed onto the turf when the final whistle was blown.

In five minutes of almost surreal hysteria, they scuffled with a team of security staffers around the western post before finding a much easier target some 120 yards away. Fifteen minutes later, their task was achieved. The post came down.

But that wasn't nearly the end of the story. Intent on keeping their promise to corral any kind of goalpost-related excitement, Penn officials kept the gates to Franklin Field locked. So the students responded as resourcefully as they could -- they used their fallen prize as a battering ram, eventually tearing open the gates and spilling out, en masse, onto the busy city street.

Traffic was held up for several blocks as confused motorists vocally cursed the sudden mob of fans that flooded the South Street corridor. Some students sustained minor injuries in the fracas. Others faced the wrath of the Penn Police for their very visible crowd-rousing.

But on that great day -- one of the most exciting in my four years at Penn -- that goalpost did eventually find the bottom of the Schuylkill. Students rejoiced and celebrated like they seldom do on our fragmented campus. And thankfully, almost all of them escaped the euphoria virtually unscathed.

On that last point, though, we were admittedly lucky. More students could have been severely hurt in the melee. More students could have wound up in jail that night for raising the spirits of their classmates. And more students could have left that game with memories far more tragic than inspiring.

One week from Saturday, Penn may -- will, if you believe my prediction -- once again experience the glory of victory just as it did in 1998. But unlike last time, when poor administrative planning and a defiant student body forced a situation that could have been catastrophic, Public Safety and Athletic Department officials now have the time and the experience to prepare for a celebration that fits the demands of both tradition and safety.

The choice for those administrative bodies is simple: Forbid the storming of the field, assume that students will comply and make no preparations for their (inevitable) defiance. Or put the proper safety devices in place -- tearaway goalposts, crowd and traffic control and emergency medical personnel -- to ensure that even the wildest of celebrations remains controlled. The Athletic Department may even want to consider organizing a post-game, on-field celebration to keep fan passion under wraps until the proper safety precautions can be exercised.

Never mind that last year's smaller assembly was unsuccessful in its attempt to pull down a goalpost (Penn hadn't actually clinched the title on that day, anyway). Come Nov. 17, the crowd will be larger, the energy more palpable and the desire to introduce aluminum to industrial waste all the more frenzied.

Even the strongest of goalposts won't stand a chance.

Of course, there is still a good deal of time -- and one major hurdle this weekend in that team from Cambridge -- standing between the Quakers and their destiny. But that doesn't mean it's too early to prepare.

In the meantime, keep your fingers crossed. Light those candles, and find a piece of wood worthy of knocking. It's going to be an interesting ride.

Jonathan Margulies is a senior Management concentrator from North Bellmore, N.Y. and editorial page editor of The Daily Pennsylvanian.

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