The countdown has begun, the stage is set, and the air is buzzing with anticipation. Whichever metaphor you prefer, one thing is clear: Homecoming 2025 is upon us—a day chock-full of revelry, Pantone 292, and football. And by football, I only mean that a football game takes place—attendance optional.
Homecoming is one of those rare days at Columbia when you can truly feel excitement in Morningside Heights. Excitement for Columbia? Maybe. Excitement for the one day of socially permitted day-drinking each semester? More likely. In any case, Homecoming, much like its spring counterpart, Bacchanal, is a cherished tradition and a key part of the college experience for Columbia students.
Columbia, if you haven’t heard, is a member of the Ivy League. Contrary to popular belief, the Ivy League is not merely a cluster of very old schools in the Northeast whose students are very smart; it is, in fact, an athletic conference. On October 26, the Columbia Lions will play against conference foe Dartmouth, whose mascot is literally the color green (very creative, right?).
This got me thinking: what do students at Dartmouth do for fun? What are their social traditions? And what about the rest of the Ivy League?
So, in the spirit of academic inquiry, I embarked on a fact-finding mission—mainly from the comfort of my couch in East Campus, although I did take a field trip to Princeton—to see how Columbia’s social traditions stack up to those of the rest of the Ancient Eight.
And what I found was, in the words of Tim Walz, weird.
Let’s start with Columbia’s opponent on Saturday, the so-called “Big Green.” In what is essentially Canada (Hanover, New Hampshire), Dartmouth students gather for a bonfire the night before their homecoming game. That’s nice. I’m sure it gets cold up there, and they probably need the fire for warmth.
However, I was shocked and horrified when I discovered that at this bonfire, freshmen are expected to prove themselves to the upperclassmen by first touching the fire and then running around it the number of times corresponding to their class year like a bunch of wild animals. (For the current senior class, that’s not 2,025 times–just 25. Please, they aren’t that crazy) Okay, maybe they are a bit crazy—but then again, you sort of have to be to move to Canada for college.
Princeton, located in the Armpit of America that is New Jersey, boasts its semesterly Lawnparties (yes, it’s one word—I’m unsure if Princetonians know how spaces work). I actually attended Lawnparties in September. It’s basically Bacchanal, except it takes place in both the fall and spring.
But their social fabric is a little different. The social scene at Princeton famously centers on eating clubs, which are glorified fraternities and sororities that cost an exorbitant amount of money—up to $10,000 per year. Naturally, these eating clubs throw parties on the day of Lawnparties, dividing the campus into a weird social hierarchy based on club membership. This isn’t so bad and can be tolerated, as it’s not too different from how Columbia fraternities and sororities operate with their own reputations.
But much to my dismay, Lawnparties occur on a Sunday—yes, a Sunday! That day that comes before Monday, when people have class. In my opinion, that has to be some sort of crime. I suppose Princetonians do face a punishment for this unlawful act: living in New Jersey.
At Penn, they also have a version of Bacchanal, but it’s called Spring Fling (very original). The Daily Pennsylvanian dubbed it the “wildest weekend of the year.” But how can a school with a Quaker mascot, under whose doctrine alcohol and tobacco use are discouraged, truly be considered that wild?
But hey, Penn also has something called Hey Day, where juniors, in anticipation of their senior year, dress up like Yankee Doodles and march down the street. I’ll just leave that there.
Brown has something called the “Naked Donut Run.” And frankly, I don’t care to know more.
Apparently Yale does something similar…God help us. What is going on? Is this normal? What ever happened to time-honored college traditions like singing the alma mater, homecoming, and a good-old fashioned rivalry football game?
We used to be a proper country.
Okay, all is not lost. Yale shares one iconic and enduring tradition with Harvard. The annual Harvard-Yale game, colloquially known as “The Game,” has captivated not only the students and alumni of these two universities, but also the entire country. While it’s no Iron Bowl, The Game has its own unique history of pranks and antics that make it special. It’s a little slice of the SEC in the Ivy League.
That brings us to Cornell, whose most famous alumnus is a fictional character: Andy Bernard, a salesman at a mid-market paper company called Dunder Mifflin. Cornell has a lively hockey rivalry with Harvard (I guess there isn’t much else to do in Ithaca). When they play each other, Cornell students throw dead fish at the Harvard players as they skate out onto the ice. Very cool!
Oh, I forgot to mention that Harvard and Cornell have taken a cue from Dartmouth. The Harvard “Crimson” and the Cornell “Big Red” seem to have a peculiar notion of what constitutes a college mascot. Both are in the Ivy League and have produced some of the most intelligent people in the world, yet they settle for a shade of red as their mascot. I suppose they think that colors must be more intimidating than other college mascots, such as lions, tigers, and bears, oh my!
Personally, I prefer Pantone 292. And a lion makes for a pretty intimidating mascot. I also do appreciate Columbia's traditions: We celebrate our community with classic homecoming events, a traditional spring music festival at Bacchanal, a winter tree lighting, and a midnight scream the night before finals begin. My motto: K.I.S.S. Keep It Simple, Stupid.
On a campus that seems to be perpetually divided, these traditions do bring us together, if only for a split second, allowing us to take pride in what we all are: Lions—not the Big Green or the Big Red, not the Crimson, Bulldogs, Tigers, or Bears. And certainly not the Quakers.
Henry Oltman is a senior studying history and political science and is a managing editor of Sundial.