The calendar sits just outside the cramped locker room of Cousens Gymnasium, carefully scribbled onto a white board in jet−black ink and framed by the lingering stench of moldy socks and stale jerseys. Much like a seven−year−old child pines for daily gold stars to validate completed chores or superb effort on homework, so, too, do these players strive for pieces of paper, a more age−appropriate form of commendation.
For within the little box, resting inside the larger rectangle of dates, is the Tufts logo, that ubiquitous baby−blue "T," framed by fierce elephant tusks, in little cut−out sheets of paper with an emphatic "W" slapped over the emblem: their own version of gold stars.
There are 13 so far, but more will come. Surely, more will come.
Like every calendar, the month is boldly emblazoned at the top: September. Attached to the front, though, just before the S, is the word "Win." Win September. A strange phrase for a team traditionally obsessed with taking it one game at a time.
It's difficult to claim victory over an intangible object, to place one's hold on an abstract set of days defined long ago by a 16th−century pope. But that's exactly what the football team aims to do. It's the mission — the never−ending goal.
Pivot your head 180 degrees across the narrow hallway and you'll face the pale, empty door to the locker room, decorated only by the school insignia and a simple quote on a piece of paper: "Win the Day."
Win the Day. That phrase keeps coming up in any discussion with a member of the team, freshman or senior, coach or player. Because, as the other sign on the otherwise blank door says, "Not winning the war is not nearly as bad as not winning the battles."
Win the Day: The Medfordian version of carpe diem and the football proclamation of war. Summing up the eternal fighting spirit into three words when William Wallace needed 60.
It's a drawn−out process, a series of skirmishes. Each 24−hour period, whether consumed with weightlifting, practice or — cue the battle cries — a game, is a fight to the death, the ultimate test of endurance, of mind over matter, of erasing the past and rewriting the future.
Win the Day.
Though the slogan was born in the offseason shortly before preseason practices in late August, had the Cousens calendar been erected a year earlier, the Jumbos, realistically, won few days in 2009, at least on paper. Effort notwithstanding, it was a disappointing season, one marked by sweeping injuries, a stagnant offense and a 2−6 record, the program's worst since 2005.
"I thought that last year we looked at the bigger picture a little too often," senior linebacker Matthew Murray said. "Just to focus on maybe getting better at something every single day, whether it's not something huge, but it could just be like he said tackling one day or reads the next or offensive line blocking better or whatever it just is, or even knowing the assignments. It's just … getting a little better every day. Being crisp."
Seizing the day is a triumph of mind over body, of one's focus overcoming any physical shortcomings. Winning on the scoreboard is one thing; anyone can see that. But it's another to emerge victorious in the minds of the coaches, the overseers and Lords of the Day.
The criteria are simple: You either win the day or you don't. No questions asked. It's an impossible task, really, trying to capture something that can't be grasped or held. It'd be like trying to own love or the air.
But in this little world of Tufts football, the outermost boundaries somewhere around the Ellis Oval and Bello Field, winning the day suddenly becomes an attainable task. There are no other competitors, no enemies to snatch the day out of the Jumbos' grasps. It exists solely for their taking. The day is theirs to win.
"It means that it's practice on Wednesday or on Thursday or whenever, and you're focusing either on the meeting you're in or the drill you're doing at practice," senior wide receiver Billy Mahler said. "And as much as you're getting ready for Hamilton or whoever you're playing on Saturday, you're taking it one day at a time. If we win each practice and are really focused in each meeting, we're just going to finalize the outcome on Saturday."
Describing the concept is as difficult as conceiving of a world in which it's tangibly possible to be victorious over a day, but the players show no hesitation in answering questions about the mantra. Though it's cyclical and perhaps illogical to define a term with the term itself, they do so anyway: Winning the Day is about simply, well, winning.
"Not tomorrow," head coach Bill Samko, who pauses for emphasis and shakes his head at every negative, said. "Not the next day. Not Hamilton. Win the day. Win today. They've kind of embraced that. They understand that concept."
Since preseason began in early September, 13 logos have been plastered on the calendar. According to the Jumbos, the tradition did not begin when the team held its first practice, or even when offseason workouts commenced in the spring. No, Tufts began to Win the Day when the clock ran out in the season finale against Middlebury on Nov. 14, 2009, when the Jumbos had a new slate — a new opportunity to start fresh.
"Let me take you back to this offseason," senior offensive lineman Tom Didio said. "We probably had one of our best offseasons since I've been here. We didn't have many guys missing lifts or many guys injured in practice. I think, overall, guys are more focused on winning individual, smaller things and then looking at the big picture when it comes around."
"I think what we wanted to do in this offseason was focus on the task at hand, whether it was lifting, running, conditioning or getting in and watching film," senior quarterback and tri−captain Anthony Fucillo added. "What you did, you want to win that task, and not just the first game. I think if we do all those and you follow all those rules and you win each day, your chances of winning on game day are much higher."
Effort has always been a staple of Tufts football. Even while riddled with injuries and stuck with a season−ending, six−game losing streak, the Jumbos still managed to hold Trinity, the conference's fourth−best offense, to 10 points on the road and were tied with first−place Amherst through three quarters. Though aligning determination and production was the difficult part, perfection in that realm falls under the all−encompassing umbrella of Winning the Day.
"I think one thing is being right mentally," Fucillo said. "It's showing up, it's doing the right things mentally. Guys are always going to give their best effort, but it's making the right block, running the right route, throwing the right ball; it's mentally being there. In the end, it's the mental reps and it's doing the right thing. Guys here are always going to have 100 percent effort; it's being there mentally 100 percent."
It's one thing to comprehend the meaning of the motto; it's another to put it into action. Words, without points on the scoreboard, are just that: mere word vomit, a boisterous proclamation unsupported by action. The opportunity to merge anticipation and reality, however, has surfaced, buoyed by this new slogan.
"The opportunity to win each day is a good thing, because it teaches winning habits," said Civetti, the offensive coordinator. "It instills, in their minds, what they need to do on a daily basis to win a day."
A new season will bring new, fancy uniforms for the Jumbos, but the team still practices in its old jerseys, the unpleasantness of 2009 still lingering on the baby blue and white. As the team gathers around at midfield after a relatively light Tuesday workout, Samko delivers an important message: The preseason has been won, September nearly conquered.
But that's only a mile marker, a checkpoint on the year−long road trip to the top. So now, Samko says, it's time to move on to winning the season.
One day at a time.
