The Wake

Most of us have seen the movie Billy Madison where Adam Sandler, playing Billy, goes back to school to prove to his dad he can take over the family business. He starts from kindergarten and makes his way through high school.

There was a specific scene when he was in one of the preliminary stages of this back-to-school adventure. It was recess time and the nice, innocent children were playing dodgeball. Billy decided to play along and soon after, his manly strength led to an annihilation of the recess goers. One particular kid took a shot right in the jugular from point-blank range. The poor nasally little boy was a victim of an adult reliving the old days of grade school and recess.

You must admit, it would be pretty sweet to go back to noontime naps and those awesome fries and chicken patties served for hot lunch if you really could. And recess, the half-hour chunk of the day where you could release all your built up energy by playing your favorite sport or chasing the cutest girl or boy.

And who could forget dodgeball. The one sport where the object is to take a ball and launch it at your friend or enemy’s body or face depending on the mood you’re in that day. Wow, wouldn’t that be awesome to have in college. We could all get together in between a three-hour lecture, grab dodgeballs and drill the moron who keeps talking to the professor prolonging the misery that is night class.

For one weekend in the St. Paul Gym, college students had the opportunity to relive some memories from their childhoods and play some dodgeball.

Intramural supervisor Steve Schraeder started off with some instructions to the entire group but one could tell the players didn’t pay much attention. “You will get a two-minute penalty if you intentionally hit somebody in the head,” Schraeder explained to the players. But you could almost see the teams disregard his statements in their heads thinking, “two minutes huh, that’s not bad for nailing somebody in the cranium. Those two minutes just may be worth it.” After a brief introduction, it was on.

The first two teams to show up were the Champs, the team that won the tournament last year and a team that couldn’t think of a name in between the 10-minute games. The Champs were an intense bunch looking to repeat and the No Names looked like they just wanted to peg some people in any body part that got in the ball’s path.

Matt Schnobrich, a 25-year old graduate student in environmental engineering, said he came because he was “reliving some misspent youth.” Schnobrich, who was serving a two-minute penalty for a head shot, said he and his No Name teammates were actually pretty frightened by the defending champs. And he had good reason.

The Champs handily won the first three games with some sniper-like throws and strategic placement on both sides of the court. The No Names did win the fourth game but they were overmatched. Balls flew all over the gym wizzing by photographer and reporter’s heads and a certain reporter was drilled in the inner thigh. About five more inches to the left and this story would be nonexistent.

Another dominant performance by The Champs left the No Names looking for answers and ice packs.

“These guys [the Champs] look like they have doing some training in the offseason,” Schnobrich said jokingly. “Though we possess athletic ability, we lack the proper seasoning dodgeball requires.”

The No Names didn’t seem to pay much attention to the score. They just kept making sure their heads weren’t taken off and at the same time, they took some people out. The next time the loudmouth from your night class won’t shut up, invite him to next year’s tournament as a friend. And when the games begin, make sure to throw at him like he’s the enemy.