Gladiators in the Pritchard Gym
By Hassan Farmer THE “NEW” ROME 2007 A.D. – The sweat wafts in the air. Young and seasoned gladiators sit on creaking wooden benches dribbling basketballs between their legs. Others prepare their armor – Nike wristbands and headbands. The floors look like the inside of an unopened Egyptian mummy tomb. Balling sneakers are being tied extra tight, laces fastened, like a pair of Roman sandals on the gallant player’s feet. Men, boys, and a polka dot of a few girls play on this athletic battlefield. This arena of basketball mayhem is Stony Brook’s Pritchard Gym – the “SPORTS COLISEUM.” The imaginary trumpets have been sounded! Let the trash talking begin… “Right here!” Dwight McKenzie, a junior and nursing student at Stony Brook, waits impatiently as two more teams ahead of him have next for the upcoming games. He waits watching the current contenders on the court play. They pivot, fake, and lay-up the b-ball. Unfortunately, Dwight usually comes to play on this side of the gym (left-side) only because the right side has been taken over by the much more aggressive full-court players. Like the legendary Spartan warriors, the full-court ball players – athletic, crude, and ready to ball to the death – have always had a long lasting rivalry with the half-court players in Pritchard Gym. Like in ancient Roman times, competition being fierce and classicism being an elemental function of communal living, Pritchard Gym has become the prototype of the “new” Rome at Stony Brook. Where the gladiators are the ball players and segregation is aggregated by ball handling skills and pure “game.” “If you come on this court, you have to come with game,” explains Cleveland Dash, a Stony Brook alumnus, 32, and veteran full-court Pritchard Gym ball player. He, holding a black duffle bag carrying his balling gear, looks calmly at his full-court theater of b-ball warfare. He has gathered battle wounds here since adolescence – eighth grade to be exact. However, for Cleveland, the gym actually appears a lot tamer than it had been when he was growing up. “There use to be serious brawls in here,” Dash warned. The oral carnage no longer affects his hardened eyes. Cleveland does not hear the verbal assaults, the swearing or name-calling. What he sees on the dusty Pritchard Gym floor is something all together different. To Cleveland, full-court is not a pit where fighters fight each other to the death over points and alleged double-dealing on foul calls. Pritchard Gym is much more… He views his fellow full-court ball players as members of a special order or brotherhood. “The gym is kind of like a fraternity,” he and a fellow full-court “brother” explain. For him and his brethren, Pritchard Gym has created many friendships out of enemies. A place where “you could be enemies during the game and then afterwards you could be friends,” Cleveland says, smiling fondly. However, even though this may be felt by some full-court players, like Dash and his full-court “brothers” – the other side of this divided court has a much different story... “You might as well be out there on the street. I mean, I grew up in Queens and that’s how it is in Queens,” Dwight complains. His remark, in regards to the level of unsportsmanlike conduct he has witnessed on the full-court. “There’s always somebody who got problems. Also, there are usually too many arguments in the full court,” Dwight says, his eyes showing obvious annoyance. Consequently, besides both being Pritchard Gym ball-players, Dwight and Cleveland, still maintain two distinct worlds of existence. Dwight sees the Pritchard Gym as a place where Stony Brook students have paid honest money to get away from street ball, and Cleveland views the gym as a piece of his childhood that has allowed him to collect many valuable friendships… The dotted lines have been drawn on the court. But not by the physical dotted lines on the dusty Pritchard Gym floor, but by the unspoken borders touted by clashing contenders. |
