The Great Rose Bowl Hoax: When a 3-6 Harvard Team Was "Invited" to Pasadena
While the modern era is seeing a slow return of Ivy League teams considering postseason play—a novelty perhaps best illustrated by the news that some Ivy teams might secure bowl slots in 2025—it’s easy to forget that nearly a century ago, one of the ancient institutions received perhaps the most absurd bowl invitation in history. The subject? The 1936 Rose Bowl, and the unsuspecting victim was none other than the Harvard Crimson.
Thanks to the work of historians like Timothy P. Brown of FootballArchaeology.com, we can pull back the curtain on this classic college football prank, a story that perfectly captures the spirit of football antiquity. Tim wrote about this instance in a recent Tidbit post titled: Harvard's 1936 Rose Bowl Invitation
The Strange Rules of Bowl Season Past
To understand the prank, you must first understand the bowl landscape of 1936.
The Rose Bowl, then as now, was king, but the selection process was dramatically different. The Rose Bowl Committee had a standing arrangement to host the champion of the Pacific Coast Conference (PCC), which that year was Stanford. The PCC champion’s athletic director was then given the responsibility to select their opponent, typically an elite team from the East or Midwest.
In 1936, the field of eligible opponents was surprisingly thin. The top teams were LSU, SMU, and TCU, but two of the era's traditional powers, Minnesota and Princeton, were barred from postseason play by their conference and league agreements, respectively. This unusual vacuum might have made an invitation seem slightly less ludicrous to some, but not by much.
A 3-6 Harvard Gets a Telegram
The Harvard Crimson finished the 1935 season (the team that would play in the 1936 Rose Bowl) with a middling 3-6 record—hardly the résumé of a national contender.
Despite this abysmal tally, Harvard’s Athletic Director, William Bingham, received a telegram from Alfred Masters, the athletic director at Stanford. The message was unmistakable: Harvard was invited to play in the Rose Bowl.
Bingham, likely stunned, didn't panic. He understood the traditions of the era. He promptly telegraphed his response back to Stanford, a model of polite, New England refusal that reads like a masterpiece of bureaucratic formality:
"Harvard regrets it cannot accept your bowl invitation this year. Due to the Harvard, Yale, Princeton agreement, we are unable to engage in any postseason games. It will be impossible next year because our present policy extends until 1938. Good luck on New Year's Day."The Rose Bowl Hoax Is Revealed
The twist in this tale of antiquity arrived moments later when the real Alfred Masters received Bingham’s formal rejection. Masters was completely bewildered, as he had never sent an invitation to the 3-6 Crimson. The entire sequence of events was a meticulously planned, anonymous hoax.
The prankster, whose identity remains unknown to this day, had done more than just fool Harvard. The individual had also sent a similar telegraph to the Stanford student newspaper, falsely signing it as the editor of Harvard's newspaper, presumably to lend credence and ensure the story (and the embarrassment) spread.
While the Crimson escaped any further embarrassment—Masters ultimately extended the official invitation to SMU—the incident serves as a hilarious, forgotten chapter in college football lore.
The prank, however, was not unique. Similar bowl season shenanigans plagued college athletics for decades. As late as the 1950s, a high school band in Casopolis, Michigan, received a fake invitation to march in the Rose Bowl Parade, leading the entire community to hold frantic fundraisers
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