Outside Oberlin

Remembering the Days of Wine and Afternoon Hoops

I think it ended at the beginning of the Fall '98 semester. Or maybe it was the end of the Spring '98 semester. Either way, it was the end of the greatest institution Oberlin College has ever had.

Students, staff, faculty, truck drivers, machinists, real estate brokers - all came to play basketball at noon on Mondays, Wednesdays and Fridays. There were always enough folks in attendance to play five-on-five, and when a lot of people showed up, there was a winner's and loser's court. Over the past year-and-a-half, though, the west court at Philips Gymnasium has stood largely silent at noon.

I think faculty members started the tradition years ago. By playing at noon, when their spouses were at work and the children were away at school, they could exercise without sacrificing family time or precious research time. Undoubtedly, the games also provided a respite from students and work. Some things are too good to hide, though those same bothersome students eventually crashed their party.

The professors usually stayed for a while after students showed up, but their faces became more and more scarce as the weeks went by. Maybe they got sick of our yelling, arguing and cussing; maybe they wanted a change of pace and moved on to tennis or racquetball. Whatever the case, their absence was conspicuous regardless of its cause, and the games suffered as a result.

The townspeople hung on for a while longer, but they too stopped showing up at the beginning of the Fall '98 semester - after all, who wants to make a trip when, in all likelihood, no one else will be there? The game was perfect for those who worked nights and Philips is the best gym in town to play in. With the demise of noon-ball, many people lost their only opportunity to play basketball on a regular basis.

When the professors and the townspeople finally stopped attending the games, the students didn't just miss their hook shots and old-school fakes, or their outdated shorts, which looked as if they were stolen from a '70s sitcom. Students and faculty, town and gown, interacted in a way that people do when they meet on even ground without the usual hang-ups or distractions. The distinctions between professor and student, professional and laborer and college and town were suspended for a few hours, and we just played basketball. By playing with them, we students found that they weren't just mathematicians and chemists, or janitors and foremen; they also coached their children's sports teams, cheered for their alma maters, and even talked a little trash now and again.

The connections people made were genuine, much more so, I dare say, than any community outreach or volunteer program could ever foster. We encountered each other as teammates and opponents, which is to say, as equals. There was no political agenda, no intention of changing another's behavior, and no real animosity between people who come from radically different walks of life (though there was, of course, plenty of arguing and shouting). The relationships were organic precisely because they were free of the connotations that most college-town interactions carry. I came to learn what many did for a living, what their kids were interested in, and what they wanted in the future, just through bullshitting between games. At least as much as I miss the basketball, I miss the bullshitting.

As my final semester at Oberlin begins and I look back at my years here, noon-ball definitely stands out as one of the good things. Believe it or not, I look back with fondness on Cyril, one of the townspeople who played and habitually booted outside the side door between games. In retrospect, even the arguing and fighting doesn't seem all that bad. I really want one more semester of decent basketball. For all those interested, I'll be playing Monday at noon.