This turned out to be a wonderful experience from start to finish. This was our first exposure on a national level. And from the moment we stepped into the tournament venue, I realized, "Hey, you are not in Kansas anymore." The atmosphere was alive with the sounds of hard rubber balls being bounced against floor boards with their resounding thump and against plaster walls that echo the crisp thwacks that so characterize our sport. Old friends, rivals and acquaintances exchanged greetings in the form of handshakes and hugs. And because the contingency of Maryland/Virginia/Washington DC/Pennsylvania players was so evident, I immediately felt comfortable and at home.
With our first match not scheduled until late Friday afternoon, this gave us ample time to watch other players go about their business in trying to stave off elimination and advance to the next day or next round. With so many matches taking place at once, the sampling of age brackets and styles of play offer a smorgasbord of viewing pleasure. By way of explanation for the uninitiated, Masters level events for handball feature players in age ranges from 35+ to 85+ and perhaps beyond if there are enough able bodies to compete. If there are enough players, a 10 year span is further broken down into 5 year segments, eg. (50+ would have players aged 50-54 (or older) and 55+ would have players aged 55-59 (or older)). The details of draws is perhaps too complex to explain here. But suffice it to say, draws are structured to create the most competitive divisions and matches that culminate in finals that should bring the greatest excitement and viewing pleasure to even the casual observer of our sport. At this and other tournaments, all the brackets are posted and awareness of your potential opponent(s) serves to either rattle the nerves or boost the confidence. But no matter what, rarely are matches won or lost at the sight of the draw. As it is often said, this is why they play the game.
Familiarity with one's opponent can at times offer the psychological edge depending on which end of the "handled" spectrum you fall. Our first opponents were not unknown to us and our strategy for this first match was simply to play solid handball and not beat ourselves. With focus and determination, we controlled the match and won with relative ease, 21-1 and 21-6. Based on our draw, this meant we were on to the semifinals and a scheduled match for late Saturday afternoon.
At a national tournament, unless entered in more than one event or draw, only one match is scheduled per day. This format is helpful both physically and mentally. The pressures can be tremendous both on the body and the mind, and rest and relaxation tend to be the best salve, bathed in beverages of choice which were in ample supply.
As a big fan of handball, I could watch games all day. These Masters as played out was a game watchers paradise. From watching my favorite players compete to getting first time glimpses of the likes of David Chapman, who has dominated our sport for nearly 2 decades, I got my money's worth. To say the least, Chapman is a superior player. His skills, though legendary are truly amazing to witness. His precision and timing draw collective awes from the large gatherings observing his matches. In two separate matches, I watched as two fine players left their feet to dive after what seemed like reachable bounces, only to have the ball hop or hook suddenly away from their reach in either direction. The inevitable thud of futility created by the diving player in combination with such sharp hooks creates a rending image as of a heart being ripped from the chest.
Familiarity with one's opponent can at times offer the psychological edge depending on which end of the "handled" spectrum you fall. Our first opponents were not unknown to us and our strategy for this first match was simply to play solid handball and not beat ourselves. With focus and determination, we controlled the match and won with relative ease, 21-1 and 21-6. Based on our draw, this meant we were on to the semifinals and a scheduled match for late Saturday afternoon.
At a national tournament, unless entered in more than one event or draw, only one match is scheduled per day. This format is helpful both physically and mentally. The pressures can be tremendous both on the body and the mind, and rest and relaxation tend to be the best salve, bathed in beverages of choice which were in ample supply.
As a big fan of handball, I could watch games all day. These Masters as played out was a game watchers paradise. From watching my favorite players compete to getting first time glimpses of the likes of David Chapman, who has dominated our sport for nearly 2 decades, I got my money's worth. To say the least, Chapman is a superior player. His skills, though legendary are truly amazing to witness. His precision and timing draw collective awes from the large gatherings observing his matches. In two separate matches, I watched as two fine players left their feet to dive after what seemed like reachable bounces, only to have the ball hop or hook suddenly away from their reach in either direction. The inevitable thud of futility created by the diving player in combination with such sharp hooks creates a rending image as of a heart being ripped from the chest.
Chapman along with his partner competed in two draws of which the Open was the most challenging. Because of only 4 teams, this bracket competed in a round-robin format (each team plays the other team at least once). The opening match pitted the Chapman team against the Bardwell brothers (David and Will). There was no lack of drama as the Bardwells gave their all by answering kills with rekills and took the first game down to the wire, but lost at 20. The second game was as intense and saw David Bardwell open a gash across his right eyebrow while diving for a well placed shot. During the medical time out, the flow of blood was stemmed enough for the match to continue with as much intensity as before. But on this night, Chapman, from his knees, on left side of the front court, sliced a perfectly placed soft, foot high shot that seemed to float to quick a death along the right side wall…game at 19 and match. The match definitely had the crowd in a buzz.
Continuing in the Open division, the next day's match of interest pitted another strong handball family of Rick Anderson and his son Lee against the Chapman team. As always, Rick's game inside the short line is an amazing display of quickness, dexterity and precision. To say the least, Rick gave Chapman fits in the front of the court and they both thrilled the crowd with dazzling displays of blinding gets and angled kills. With Lee calmly anchoring the back court, the Andersons outdid the Bardwells and pushed the Chapman team harder by taking the first game at 21-14. Chapman fought back to win the second game 21-10 and therefore forced the tie-breaker. Continuing from the second game, in tie-breaker, Chapman took control by taking most of the shots and relegating his partner to a moving spectator. In the end, Chapman proved too strong for the Andersons and won the game 11-5.
Bruce and I were relaxed for our Saturday match. Our familiarity one half of the team we were about to face made our strategy and approach less stressed but no less intense. The first game found us recording points off Bruce's variety of serves or short rallies that may have been generated from weak returns. Sensing an advantage, we pressed harder and ended the first game quickly, 21-2. In the second game, I found the serving groove and managed two great run of points that broke the match wide open after some early low digit ties. We never let up on our opponents and rode the victory at 21-7 into the Sunday finals.
Before our Sunday finals, earlier finals from other brackets were scheduled. Within these brackets, the promise of exquisite handball was in the offing. Admittedly, I am a homer and root for the players I know and admire. Among these are Alan Frank and Dan Zimet. I love the way these two esteemed Masters conduct themselves on and off the court. Perhaps, I even gush and heap my praises to an embarrassing level when I pen their exploits. But to witness their on the court feats at any level is sheer joy.
The finals of the 40+ event found Zimet and Frank pitted against an injured but unbowed Andy Rousseau and Mark Occhipinti. Long rallies and equally long run of points defined the match. Tensions ran high among the competitors who know each others game from either prior partnerships or competitive meets. Bodies collided with each other and often the floor in magnificent displays of agility and determination, but in the end, Frank and Zimet prevailed and once again showed the handball world the effectiveness of their pairing.
Having very little time to revel in his latest national title that will no doubt add to his already legendary status, Frank was about to team up with Joe Berman in the 45+ division. Their opponents were the Canadian team of Denis Gringas and Luc Gosselin. Although I had only seen segments of matches from this tournament showcasing the Canadian's skills, I knew they would present a formidable challenge to Frank and Berman. The first game, the Canadians leapt out a 12-2 lead forcing Frank and Berman to dig deep. According Berman, the team kept their composure as they battled back to take the game 21-16. Perhaps the spirit of the Canadians may have been broken, because Frank Berman kept pouring on the pressure by continuing an incredible run of unanswered points into the second game. Berman, whom I have had the pleasure of going into battle with on the the 3-wall courts, displayed his own tenacity and deceptively quick hands to the kill. As always, Frank gets, digs and thrives from the back, always ready and able to retrieve. So much so was their team work that the Canadians had no answer for their efforts as Frank and Berman closed out the second game at 21-11 to take the match.
Meanwhile, a few courts down the line, Bruce and I enter the court 6, perhaps anxious, but focused and prepared to meet our opponents Norman Wilson and Jeffery Patterson. I am as excited to be in the finals as ever but I am confident we belong and would do our best to show ourselves and bring home the gold, as they say.
The first game found the teams evenly matched with neither team edging too far ahead. There were several ties and lead changes until we forged ahead 11-9. The game turned, and quickly. With Norm serving to me, a string of 7 or 8 points were recorded. By the time I adjusted to the hook serve, the damage had been done and we were only managed 3 more points before they closed the books on the first game.
The second game started similar to the first, but we found ourselves in a deep hole. And even after Jeff aggravated an old malady, we were unable to capitalize. Our rallies were often cut short and we could not put together successful scoring runs while I served. So the gold eluded us in our first national exposure as we were bested 21-14, 21-13.
I started this by saying we sought glory and I can close by saying that I am very proud of our accomplishments. We left the Allentown venue with our heads held high and our spirits bolstered from the great experience. I smile as I write this because I know what I saw, heard, felt and how I played will be treasured as so many "first times" are. But it was not just the first, but the quality of the experience.
It has been a long handball road for me getting to Allentown. Along the way, there have been voices, helping hands and feet to ease the journey. No matter what the outcome may have been, it was handball, and it was pleasurable.
To the national and local organizers (Randy Wolfe and team), thank you for making this first time experience a delight I wish to repeat.
Peter
Bruce and I were relaxed for our Saturday match. Our familiarity one half of the team we were about to face made our strategy and approach less stressed but no less intense. The first game found us recording points off Bruce's variety of serves or short rallies that may have been generated from weak returns. Sensing an advantage, we pressed harder and ended the first game quickly, 21-2. In the second game, I found the serving groove and managed two great run of points that broke the match wide open after some early low digit ties. We never let up on our opponents and rode the victory at 21-7 into the Sunday finals.
Before our Sunday finals, earlier finals from other brackets were scheduled. Within these brackets, the promise of exquisite handball was in the offing. Admittedly, I am a homer and root for the players I know and admire. Among these are Alan Frank and Dan Zimet. I love the way these two esteemed Masters conduct themselves on and off the court. Perhaps, I even gush and heap my praises to an embarrassing level when I pen their exploits. But to witness their on the court feats at any level is sheer joy.
The finals of the 40+ event found Zimet and Frank pitted against an injured but unbowed Andy Rousseau and Mark Occhipinti. Long rallies and equally long run of points defined the match. Tensions ran high among the competitors who know each others game from either prior partnerships or competitive meets. Bodies collided with each other and often the floor in magnificent displays of agility and determination, but in the end, Frank and Zimet prevailed and once again showed the handball world the effectiveness of their pairing.
Having very little time to revel in his latest national title that will no doubt add to his already legendary status, Frank was about to team up with Joe Berman in the 45+ division. Their opponents were the Canadian team of Denis Gringas and Luc Gosselin. Although I had only seen segments of matches from this tournament showcasing the Canadian's skills, I knew they would present a formidable challenge to Frank and Berman. The first game, the Canadians leapt out a 12-2 lead forcing Frank and Berman to dig deep. According Berman, the team kept their composure as they battled back to take the game 21-16. Perhaps the spirit of the Canadians may have been broken, because Frank Berman kept pouring on the pressure by continuing an incredible run of unanswered points into the second game. Berman, whom I have had the pleasure of going into battle with on the the 3-wall courts, displayed his own tenacity and deceptively quick hands to the kill. As always, Frank gets, digs and thrives from the back, always ready and able to retrieve. So much so was their team work that the Canadians had no answer for their efforts as Frank and Berman closed out the second game at 21-11 to take the match.
Meanwhile, a few courts down the line, Bruce and I enter the court 6, perhaps anxious, but focused and prepared to meet our opponents Norman Wilson and Jeffery Patterson. I am as excited to be in the finals as ever but I am confident we belong and would do our best to show ourselves and bring home the gold, as they say.
The first game found the teams evenly matched with neither team edging too far ahead. There were several ties and lead changes until we forged ahead 11-9. The game turned, and quickly. With Norm serving to me, a string of 7 or 8 points were recorded. By the time I adjusted to the hook serve, the damage had been done and we were only managed 3 more points before they closed the books on the first game.
The second game started similar to the first, but we found ourselves in a deep hole. And even after Jeff aggravated an old malady, we were unable to capitalize. Our rallies were often cut short and we could not put together successful scoring runs while I served. So the gold eluded us in our first national exposure as we were bested 21-14, 21-13.
I started this by saying we sought glory and I can close by saying that I am very proud of our accomplishments. We left the Allentown venue with our heads held high and our spirits bolstered from the great experience. I smile as I write this because I know what I saw, heard, felt and how I played will be treasured as so many "first times" are. But it was not just the first, but the quality of the experience.
It has been a long handball road for me getting to Allentown. Along the way, there have been voices, helping hands and feet to ease the journey. No matter what the outcome may have been, it was handball, and it was pleasurable.
To the national and local organizers (Randy Wolfe and team), thank you for making this first time experience a delight I wish to repeat.
Peter