In winning handball games, you can count on getting one or two lucky bounces per game. The other points necessary to win come from skill, preparation, dedication, experience and those intangibles that separate champions from the rest.
At the recent Pennsylvania State Doubles Championships held in Bethlehem, PA, October 23, 2010, all the above came into play. Entered in this tournament presented both opportunity and challenge. When Rick Anderson asked me to be his doubles partner for this event, I was at once elated, humbled and honored. I am in awe of Rick’s game. His experience on all levels of the sport speaks for itself. I never hesitated in saying yes. To be honest, who would hesitate at such an opportunity? Accepting was the easy part, living up to such a reputation was the challenge for me.
Rick and I played several games together by way of tuning up for the championships. Learning to anticipate my partner’s moves took some adjustment. But by our second playing session, I could almost feel and know what it is he would do before he did it. I thought this was crucial heading into the tournament.
Rick and I were entered in the 45+/55+ combined doubles division laced with strong teams from top to bottom. Eyeing the draw, we were set up in the quarterfinals against a team of wily veterans, who I later discovered have been playing together for about 20 years. I am not sure whether knowing more or less about an opponent works for or against you. I know in some cases, there are psychological advantages to having played the same opponent and never losing, while on the other hand, being on the losing end of that equation can translate to the opposite and devastating effect.
In the team of Richie Rose and Tom Doughten, not knowing what to expect, I took cues and leads from my partner Rick as we easily handled Richie and Tom in the first game. The second game however was not as easy as it should have been. My failure to execute our winning strategy from the first game, found us quickly in a deep hole to the tune of being down 14-2. As anyone who has ever played the game knows, such a score is not impossible to overcome, but it takes a certain will and determination to hold your opponent scoreless while you dig and claw your back into the game. Clawed we did, Rick and I, and tied the score at 14-14 after exchanging a few side outs. Momentum can ebb and flow in handball with a few great shots or a lucky bounce, like the one or two per game or match that will happen.
Tied at 14, neither team found a finishing groove. And we labored through side outs and one or two point deficits until we were again tied at 19. In retrospect, earning two points to seal the victory and the match seemed so simple a task to achieve; and yet, I failed to convert on numerous attempts because (you may substitute any or all standard excuses here), suffice it to say, I did not finish when the opportunity presented itself and we were forced into the 11-point deciding tiebreaker after losing the second game at 19.
I shoulder our failure to win the second game outright because I understand that lapses will come as part of my own development process. Every word of encouragement or advice from Rick makes plain sense now as it did then, but I just did not have the competitive experience to realize and then materialize within the framework of the game.
The tiebreaker found us down early, but we quickly tied Richie and Tom at 6 and passed them to take a 10-6 lead. That 10-6 lead soon evaporated and we faced down elimination with the other team serving 10-10. But a quick and efficient side out found us in the service box with Rick serving first. He asked me to position myself differently before he served. And with the greatest of skill and ease, Rick served a nonreturnable ball that hit the crotch just beyond the short line and exploded as a rollout to the middle of the court; game and match.
In my overall match assessment, partially alluded to above, I did not do the little things that could have made the match less drawn out. Playing at any level is one thing, but playing enough to know better comes with time.
The Semifinal match on our side of the draw was now set against the team of Joe Thomas and John Marra, who had in the interim, defeated Keith Neihart and Dennis Shoemaker.
Joe Thomas played a key role in my early development toward being a more skilled handball player. When I first met Joe some 15 years ago, I was in awe of his handball prowess. If I gush now, it is because at that time, I had only heard how skillful players could be. To see this man’s approach to the game, with his fluidity of movement that I instantly called “poured water,” was like heaven to me. On his numerous trips to the DC area, Joe always arranged a handball session. We never really played true games because my skill level could neither compare nor compete with Joe’s lightness around the ball. Although I remember every little nuance and subtlety that Joe extolled, I am still to this day edging towards mastering a few. So to meet my first mentor in a tournament setting thrilled me as well as gave me pause. In reality, Joe is recognized and known for his game. But for us to come full circle means a great deal to me.
If I said the mystique of my past admiration for Joe would not have affected my play against him, I would be deceiving myself and anyone else who reads these pages.
I took a deep breath as Rick and I awaited the first serve from Joe. Playing the left and having Joe also serving from the left, I was stung by the sharpness of the vicious hopping serves that sliced from the hands of this seemingly slightly built opponent. As balls popped off the glass back wall, I was always caught in no man’s land in trying to return. My inability to adjust to Joe’s serve was crucial and costly in our efforts to advance. With all due respect to John, Joe’s partner, it was Joe who blistered the court with sharp kills and angled returns that slid ever so slightly beyond outstretched arms. Again, to my own weakness and inexperience, I often isolated the court and tried to take Joe on one-on- one whenever the ball came my way. So, pride got in the way as I knew deep down I wanted to show the teacher how far the student had come. And that one solitary moment came as I rolled out a ball against Joe. It felt great for the moment, but hollow for the team effort. We lost the games 9 and 8 to the eventual champions (by default over the defending champs, Rich Greenburg and Dave Schmelz) in what was a frustrating effort. I frustrated my partner and myself and for that I feel bad.
Again, I failed my partner Rick. But as the days have passed since we played the tournament, I have analyzed my play and my experience. Playing with Rick Anderson was a great gift that I shall always cherish. Perhaps at another time and venue, we will again be afforded the opportunity to face down any and all opponents and prevail.
True, I take these things personally because handball has been more than a game to me. I am amazed at the nuances and catharsis that I have experienced as I elevate the physical and mental aspects of my play. And as I continue to bare my soul in these pages, in the telling of this experience, I am reminded of a stanza of a song from Joni Mitchell that sums it all for me with a smile (especially after this tournament in Bethlehem):
“Slouching Towards Bethlehem: (Based on a poem by W.B. Yeats)
Surely some revelation is at hand Surely it's the second coming And the wrath has finally taken form For what is this rough beast Its hour come at last Slouching towards Bethlehem to be born Slouching towards Bethlehem to be born
Enough said about me. There were plenty of handball games to played and viewed as players from the other divisions battled through their draws. Although, I always laud the Open players, at this event, I am more inclined to heap my praise on the efforts of David Botero and his Hope in Handball kids. David’s kids made up most of the C/Novice divisions. Their efforts are to be commended. They played with the enthusiasm of youth and growing love for the game. This is the second time I have seen these kids play and they are eager and are like sponges when it comes to handball. From the few slices I glimpsed throughout the tournament day, with continued encouragement and support, I will go out on a limb and say, the likelihood of future champions emerging from this group is great.
The Open division consisted of 6 teams resulting in a round robin format. There were intriguing pairings, two of which were families consisting of father and son, Rick and Lee Anderson and brothers, Will and Dave Bardwell. To round out the division, Eric Smith teamed up with Oscar Diaz, Victor LoPierre paired with Matthew Chu, Mark Ochipinti and C.J. Raymond teamed and Dave Botero and Ray Persuad played together. Because of the tight scheduling, there was little idle time as matches were backed up on all courts. But I managed to see Rick and Lee overwhelm Victor and Matthew in their opening round games. Although Victor and Matthew played well at times and won a few rallies, the outcome was never in doubt. Eric and his partner Oscar also handled Victor and Matthew, thus eliminating them from the competition.
I did not witness the other matches leading up to the third round semifinals, but one match found Eric and Oscar pitted against Rick and Lee. This was a competitive battle, and though Eric and Oscar may have been game; the experience of Rick and Lee came through in the clutch as Rick dominated the front court with his usual great anticipation and deft hands. A scary moment during the match found Lee doubled over in pain as one of his ankles rolled as he turned to retrieve a slicing hook. After a medical timeout, Lee returned to the court, visibly hobbled but finishing the match.
The above result placed Lee and Rick in line for the championship against the Bardwell brothers. As the featured match of the day began to play out, the first game saw Rick and Lee race out to a sizable lead. But against fine players no lead is too great or safe. The Bardwells chipped away and evened the score at several points during the game. Lee’s ankle bothered him but there were some rallies that the discomfort clearly took a backseat to the importance of winning a point. To the bitter end these two pairs battled until the Bardwells pulled out the game 21-19. In the second game, father and son found new life and made quick work of the Bardwells despite the closeness of the score. Rallies were quick and often ending in kills from either team. Sharpness and speed of the ball is the earmark of these players and very few shots are taken in any other form; of course, the exception being Rick’s surgical placements. With the Andersons winning 21-15, the finals came down to the 11-point tiebreaker.
Every point was contested and a mini battle ensued within this protracted war. Neither team relented as the scoring went back and forth and finally tied at 10-10. Having gone through another 10-10 score in a tiebreaker earlier in the day, Rick must have sensed as Yogi Berra would say, “déjà vu all over again.” Unfortunately neither father nor son could produce the magic as the last shot loped off the ceiling and hugged the right wall in a slow lazy arch that sent the ball cascading tightly, vertically dropping inches from the back wall; making a return ever so difficult. The valiant effort to retrieve fell short as the ball trickled away to end the match and seal the victory for the Bardwells.
In the 65/70 Division, the long standing team of Al Green and Graham Palmore handled Mike Razz and Bob Norris 21-11 21-20. In the B Division Mike Killion and DJ Healey bested Matthew Chu and Andy Chen 21-14, 21-20. And finally, the C division winners were Frank Tommassini and Matt Bailey over Ray Persuad Jr. and his brother Chris Persaud, 21-13, 21-10.
My kudos to Randy Wolfe and his people for running a smooth tournament. I enjoyed the camaraderie, the food, the fun and the beverages and look forward to the next time.
This was a fun tournament that afforded me the opportunity to meet and play against new players and reconnect with a mentor. But playing with Rick Anderson (Thank you Rick for the boost.) was a delight and pleasure and has so enriched my game. How so you might say? Well, it’s handball. It’s me. And you will see!
Peter Peart (11/02/2010)