May 16: A Basketball Brotherhood

“I’ve got nothing to do today but smile.”

-Simon & Garfunkel

This was the day I’ve been looking forward to for a long, long time. For the first time in what seems like months, I was able to do absolutely nothing. No obligations. No plans. No responsibilities. No nothing.

It was good.

Because of classes, etc. my Mondays-Thursdays have been shot. Because of WMJF I have usually been up relatively early, and remained somewhat busy on Fridays. Because of Towson games, events, this, that, and the third, I generally keep busy on Saturdays. And because of The Towerlight my Sundays have been less than restful. But having finished classes, exams, and handed in my final projects of my college career Monday and Tuesday, I could finally spend a day doing nothing.

I woke up at 11:30. Made and ate pancakes. Zoned out for an hour or so. Realized I had incorrectly dated yesterday’s post, and changed it hoping no one noticed. Wandered back into bed for another two hours (during which I had a dream–or was it a nightmare?–that I watched Mel Gibson’s ‘Apocalypto’, which wasn’t nearly as cool as the dream I had last night where I was playing Madden 2008, which was amazing). Woke up again around 3:30. Headed to Burdick for the first time in a few weeks to play basketball. Came back to my apartment. Showered. Ate. And here I am.

Sleep and basketball are two things I plan on getting in a lot more of now that classes are done. With a heavy focus on the latter.

In my four years a fraternity of sorts has developed out of Burdick. And I’ve always considered myself a proud brother. The gym was my first social circle. I remember the dad of one of my friends from home saying the only people I’d need to meet at school were the guys that play basketball. He wasn’t exactly right. He also wasn’t very far off.

It was even the focus of one of my first Towerlight commentaries.

If it weren’t for a hectic schedule since I started this blog a few weeks ago, there’s no doubt Burdick would have been featured far earlier. Regardless, it would not have been the first time I made mention of my hoops haven in an internet blog.

Through a good portion of my freshman and sophomore years myself and a bunch of friends, mostly from high school, had Xanga sites as a means of keeping one another updated on our lives. Being that Burdick was a significant part of nearly every one of my afternoons, I had these words to say in a post from December 27, 2003:

From day one I noticed something about the crop of ballplayers at Burdick. They weren’t the purest of shooters. Nor were they the smoothest ball handlers. But they could run. They could jump. And they could bench press me fifty me times if they got the urge to do so. For the first month or so I heard the words “get into the weight room ’shorty’ ” more than I ever could have imagined…

I stopped shying away from the occasional verbal battle. Never have I gone so far as to say something that would get me bench pressed (or beaten mercilessly), but I’ve toed that line…

Burdick is a place where 5th year senior football players reign supreme. Most of which have used up their years of eligibility. That’s where the combination of brute strength and athleticism stems…Now that the football season is finished there are considerably more 4.5 40s running fast breaks, and weight room junkies patrolling the lane. More profanity spews forth, and more calls are disputed. One mid-November contest lasted over an hour. Every call led to an argument. And every argument led to ten minutes wasted. It is a miracle that blood wasn’t shed over that game…

One of the most beautiful characteristics of Burdick is the fact that you can go months without knowing anyone’s name, but still be able to call for an outlet pass and have the ball delivered to you for an easy deuce. See, at Burdick players don’t go by names. They go by letters and syllables. Such names include “E” (about 8 guys claim this Burdick alias) and “G.” As well as “Sco,” “Ant,” and “Zo” (who refers to himself as “Tha Horse”). Other nicknames include “Dirk” (pure shooting big man) and “Favre” (QB look-alike). As for myself, basically no one knew my name until December. Instead I was referred to as “Ridnour” or “Retro”, both of which are references to my hair. I had grown so accustom to this that it was slightly disappointed when people actually called me Darnay, it just wasn’t the same. It wasn’t Burdick.

A lot has changed since freshman year. The competition isn’t nearly as good. The number of guys that showed up each afternoon has significantly decreased. And there are nowhere near the personalities there once were. You could have just as good a time sitting on the sidelines, jumping from conversation to conversation, as you would playing. And a lot of times you had no choice but to do so. Through the majority of my freshman year, if you did not show up before 4:05 (the gym opened at 4) you would not get on until close to 5:30. Timing was everything. This was especially the case if you were an average-sized, rail-thin white kid. If you had not yet established a rep you would be forced to wait even longer to finally get on the floor.

Back then you had to be tough. Physically and mentally. People were going to talk. And they’d more likely do so after out-muscling you in one way or another. If you didn’t hold your own, walk with a swagger, and act like you belonged on the floor, you would hear about it. Not too long ago I was playing with one of the regulars from my first two years, Agee (nicknamed after the ‘Hoop Dreams‘ character), and I made some comment about how some of the younger kids there that day had bad attitudes. Without a moment’s hesititation he spit back, “That’s how you used to be.” Really? “Yeah, you had an awful attitude, always had to say something.” Yeah, but I had to right? “Yeah, you’re right.”

There was a right of passage at Burdick. It took you standing your ground. You had to be firm, but you had to do so without making enemies.

Since then things have died down a bit. Fewer good players. Fewer arguments. Fewer long waits on the sidelines. Within my first year I established myself as one of the regulars, and once you do that there seems to always be a roster spot waiting for you. I haven’t been a daily fixture there for a couple years now. But even if school or work keeps you from being a regular, no one forgets that you once were.

Since my freshman year I have been on five Intramural championship teams and have played in two regional tournaments. I won one of those titles and played in one of the tournaments with ‘Dirk,’ and even played in a men’s league with him, former Towerlight sports editor, Brent Kennedy, and a bunch of other guys this semester, just to have one last chance to run with those two guys who both graduated last spring.

And I’ve even been able to make a number of my contacts with Towson athletes at Burdick. One in particular being Gary Neal. I would go into length about that particular story, but instead I’ll link you to the ‘In This Corner‘ I wrote about ‘G’ a couple years ago.

So when I say that Burdick is a fraternity of sorts, I say it in all seriousness. You play basketball Thursday afternoons, then four hours later hang out with the same guys at the bar. It’s a beautiful thing.

I knew that I’d miss Burdick more than anything once Winter Break rolled along. And I wasn’t wrong. I miss those 7th year senior football players. I miss half the people still not knowing my name, or if I even have one for that matter. I miss picking verbal fights that, if turned physical, would end up with me filing an injury report.

Yeah. I’m going to miss Burdick.