This is one of the first rivalry weekends of the college football season, and I’ll be spending it in New Haven, Connecticut, for what is perhaps the nadir of intercollegiate gridiron competition: the Harvard/Yale game. Inside the stadium, the future business leaders of America will strap on the pads and play what is expected to be a high-scoring, somewhat sloppy affair; but outside of the stadium, my friends and I will look on as thousands of twenty-somethings consume preposterous amounts of alcohol in an open field. The next day, many of these co-eds (and many more of us old farts) will wake up feeling shaky, with pounding headaches, nausea, fatigue, and perhaps a splash of diarrhea. Many will swear they’re never drinking again. I know I’ve made that promise at least a dozen times.
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