Wednesday, October 28, 2009
Originality
There was a time, back in the early eighties, when all things original ceased to exist. We can't pinpoint the exact moment, but it was sometime after the Wahey Boys played their last basketball game, as a team. The setting was the old Weymouth South High School outdoor basketball courts and they vied for the Park League Championship. Throughout that short summer season, teams with names like Wildcats and Celtics competed on the asphalt court, and as each team eliminated another, it came down to two, as it always does.
The Wildcats, with their unoriginal name, was a group of South Weymouth guys that had played in high school together and then went on to various colleges around the country. As they warmed up, in the usual two lane fashion of lay-up and passing drills, they looked formidable with their close cropped haircuts and matching t-shirts. Intimidation can be communicated in many ways, not the least of which is seeing a neat crisp, disciplined team going through drills before a game.
The Wahey Boys however, are not easily impressed. They had played the round-ball together since elementary school on the north side of town, and when their team, Desolation Row, strode onto the court to the usual snickering, they knew they had their opponent right where they wanted them. The boom box was placed accordingly and Bob Dylan’s melodious voice cut through the hot air like a mosquito buzzing around your ear. The Boys, in their old “Maroon” gym shorts and torn t-shirts sent basketballs whirling toward their target from every direction and in no particular order, most clanged off the backboard with an embarrassing thud and when the song ended, it was game time.
The match was a good one as competitions go and the score fluctuated along with the usual shoving and blank threats. For Desolation Row, there was safety in numbers, their larger team allowed them to substitute more frequently and toward the end of the second half, the Wildcats, although better conditioned, were showing signs of fatigue. As the clock wound down, it appeared that each team would get one last shot with the score tied, a classic ending. When the Wildcat team missed their chance it came down to Desolation Row. There was no need for time outs and intricate play calling, the ball would be brought up by Vic and the last shot would go to Big D, as it always had in these situations. When he drove the lane with his scraggly long hair and unkempt beard, he twisted mid-air and tossed the ball awkwardly skyward. Shots by Big D were always a lesson in physics and the initial celebration of the Wildcats at the sight of the shot is understandable; but what trickery those Wahey Boys had played, for even as their own disbelieving eyes witnessed the unique shot drill through the hole, they could not know that this victory meant the end.
Unbeknown to the Wahey Boys and beyond their control, originality and uniqueness lost out to the bland order of ordinary. Weymouth, presented with an opportunity to keep a one of a kind name, “The Maroons”, would instead copy a name chosen by many. The asphalt court has since been replaced by Wildcat Way and fake grass. The Maroon teams and all their quirky uniqueness are long gone and in their place, neat organized teams with names like Hawks, Lions and other assorted politically correct monikers. Parents fight with each other and coaches, and then sue each other. One team claims rights to another’s boring name. Everyone has an agenda that usually is about money. Nobody has fun and no one comes up with an original thought.
POSTED BY STAN on October 28, 2009
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