At the conclusion of every hockey season, Cornell fans inevitably feel the necessity to write one of two postmortems. Some are always satisfied with the season’s success; others believe that Cornell failed to meet expectations. 

Ironically, both camps cite head coach Mike Schafer ’86 as the reason for their underlying arguments. The first camp credits Schafer’s “system” for producing competitive teams every season. The second camp blames Schafer’s “system” for preventing Cornell from competing for national titles. 

Unfortunately, when the dust has settled, we’re none the wiser, just more affixed in our beliefs. As certain as prelims and snow in Ithaca, the puck will again drop on Lynah Rink’s ice in October. With any luck, standing behind Cornell’s bench will be Coach Schafer, perhaps slightly grayer in the goatee come playoff time. 

Cornell did not earn that coveted Frozen Four berth this season, losing to New Hampshire in the first round of the NCAA tournament. As the third period wore on Friday evening, and fans slowly accepted defeat, emotions ran sour in the stands. Some Cornell fans exited the Times-Union Center early, probably dejected after losses to two different teams of Wildcats in one weekend. Others watched with frustration as another Frozen Four dream came to an end. 

Emotions run fast during the game, especially for fans that find themselves powerless to change what they see occurring on the ice. Later, after a couple of good nights of sleep, it’s easier to gain perspective. 

In the last 20 years, the Ivy League has sent two teams to the Frozen Four –– Cornell in 2003 and Harvard in 1994 –– and not since Harvard won in 1989 has the Ivy League been represented in the national championship game. For a sport in which the Ivy League’s six teams compose more than 10 percent of the 58 teams in Division I, those numbers speak loudly. 

As the national media was quick to point out, the basketball team’s magical run to the Sweet 16 was all the more impressive because the Ivy League does not give athletic scholarships. This same policy applies to hockey and every other Cornell sport. 

That the Ivy League is generally not competitive in the NCAA Tournament should not surprise anyone. That Cornell consistently remains competitive in college hockey should. While teams like Yale, Princeton and Harvard have managed to interject a few seasons of success into decades of mediocrity, Cornell has remained the perennial ECAC Hockey powerhouse over the last 15 years. 

Schafer’s coaching numbers should speak for themselves. With a 297-158-53 career record, five ECAC tournament titles, and eight NCAA tournament berths, Schafer’s controversial “system” has brought undeniable success to Cornell’s storied hockey program. His record is even more impressive when you consider that his predecessor, Brian McCutcheon ’71, earned zero ECAC titles and one NCAA appearance during eight years of coaching. 

What role does Schafer’s “system” play in his teams’ successes? He realizes that Cornell faces a serious disadvantage in battles for top recruits. The inability to give athletic scholarships is only one factor. Cornell plays fewer games overall than do the other national powerhouses, and fewer of Cornell’s games are on television, which limits an aspiring player’s visibility. Despite the recent renovation, Lynah Rink cannot match the modernity and grandeur of many of the newer collegiate hockey facilities. 

Cornell also loses the geography and financial aid battles. The hockey hotbed of the upper Midwest sends players to the WCHA and CCHA schools, while the New England prep schools send their best players to Hockey East. Even if Cornell’s staff finds a player with big-time hockey skills and the academic record to gain admission to an Ivy, it must compete against schools like Yale, Princeton and Harvard, which offer more generous financial aid packages. 

To succeed, Schafer recruits those who are not the most offensively-gifted or highly-touted players coming out of the junior leagues, but who play smart, physical hockey and will work well within his “system.” It also helps to have French-speaking Associate Coach Casey Jones ’90, who gives Cornell a recruitment edge among Québécois skaters. 

Like speed bumps in front of an aggressive driver, Cornell forces opposing teams to slow down the tempo of the game. Schafer knows his team can’t win a high-scoring shootout against a top NCAA team, but they can use superior size, solid goaltending, and offensive zone cycles to eke out victory. This is exactly what happened against North Dakota in January, with Cornell winning, 1-0, in the Friday game. 

If the Ivy League changes its policies, or if Cornell’s finances improve enough to allow a more generous financial aid policy, the Big Red may be able to switch to a different style of hockey. Perhaps this style will bring Cornell back to the Frozen Four, or perhaps it will make the team weaker. Until then, look for Cornell, and Schafer’s “system,” to remain competitive nationally.  

Throughout the season, our column has served as a sounding board for men’s hockey. We have attempted to identify trends, break down nuances of the game that casual observers may have missed, and analyze the significance of each weekend. Between praise came critique; adjacent to high expectations came reality. We hope that you became just a little more enlightened and excited about Cornell hockey, and we’ll be back here a couple more times to discuss the rest of the NCAA tournament and look ahead to next year’s team.