The Wake

It’s 10:15 p.m. at Ridder Arena. I have to work at my apartment’s front desk at 2 a.m., but I’m not sleeping. I have 100 pages of reading to finish for a class tomorrow, but I’m not doing that either. I’m watching a bunch of college kids slide around on ice, whiffing at a miniature soccer ball with a stick lacking the bristles needed for it be considered a broom, and falling on their asses. WTF?

But as the co-rec broomball playoffs start, I have to admit I am entertained. This team is pretty fun to watch because they’re actually good.

- - - - - Let me interrupt this thought by saying I had never seen a broomball game before, nor did I do any research on the game during the process of writing this piece, so my idea of good is skewed.

They wear long-sleeved maroon shirts donning their name, Boofers, along with instructions and illustrations on how to boof (it has something to do with sex). And with their powers combined, they create a broomball force that cannot be stopped. Seriously. They haven’t lost in the three years they’ve existed. That is the reason I’m in Ridder Arena –-o witness broomball’s unstoppable force.

However, when I arrive at the arena for the first-round match, I’m not convinced I made the right decision by writing this piece. There are four fans watching the game. And I’m pretty sure they’re waiting for the match after the Boofers. But it doesn’t take long for me to see what is so special about this team.

They win the game easily, tripling their opponents shots on goal. Fifteen Mooney patiently weaves through the defense like a ballerina. Three Lil’Lightning aggressively hacks rebound shots at the net. Seven Kearney never misses a one-timer. And my personal favorite, 00 Kostrzewski is a stonewall goalie. They know how the play this game.

In the quarterfinal match there are a few more people in the stands. It only takes a couple minutes before the Boofers are at it again. Fifteen Mooney takes the ball from his corner, zigzags past three, stumbling defenders, and drills a perfect shot into the upper left net from 15feet out.

By halftime, they’re ahead by four goals. Then the crowd turns on them. I can’t blame them. Even I feel bad for the other team. A group of four guys sits in front of me and starts cheering for the Boofers’ opponents.

Three Cohen takes control of the ball, and a red-shirted gal chases after her. In her uncontrolled hustle, the red-shirted girl falls down and slides under the legs of three Cohen, knocking her to the ground. When the red-shirted girl stands up, she smacks her stick on the three Cohen’s helmet.

“She was going for the ball,” one of the guys yells after the referee blows his whistle.

“Do you even know anyone on that team?” An annoyed girl sitting in front of them asks.

“No,” they say, giggling. “We just feel bad that they’re getting their asses kicked.”

Now it occurs to me that this team isn’t just good, they’re unfairly good. And the semifinal match confirms my idea. They play another scruffy team

- - - - Scruffy is a term I invented that means the team has no cogent uniform or matching colored shirts. It doesn’t mean they’re bad. But then again, they are playing the Boofers, so they seem pretty bad.

It’s the beginning of the game, and there’s a pile in the middle of the rink. FifteenMooney taps the ball out of the pile toward the goal. It moves slowly toward the goalie who tries to hit it away with his stick. However, he completely misses and the ball slides into the net for a Boofers goal.

There’s even more people at this game, 35 by my count. There’s a group in the corner that is heckling the Boofers. “Hey maroon team,” one shouts. “You suck!”

A different group yells, “Tripping, ref, tripping!”

There is no good reason why the crowd is turning on this team. They are quite sportsman like. And they all appear to shower on a regular basis, so I doubt they smell.

They’re just too damn good.

The referee calls a penalty on the scruffy team for tripping. The culprit slams the door hard, his frustration echoing throughout Ridder Arena. I feel for the guy. It’s like the Boofers are cheating, I’m convinced there’s no way they can ever lose. Of course they win the championship, 7-0, capping the third perfect season in three years.

But I can’t help but think of all the random people who watched this team play and were moved to cheer for the other team. We love an underdog, and that’s why the Boofers make intramural broomball interesting. They show the crowd that they are too good to be beaten, not by being cocky or arrogant, but simply by playing great broomball. And as long as they continue their domination, their opponents and the crowd will watch, and get worked up for no good reason until someone finds a way to beat them.

But I doubt that will ever happen.