YouAlberta
I’ve never been a sports person, I’m much too anxious and uncoordinated to partake in them and I accepted this long ago. I was the girl who would make up excuses; “my stomach hurts, it's that time of the month, I hurt my ankle”, so I could sit out during Gym class. There were very few exceptions to this, but one of them was DodgeBall. I have always thoroughly enjoyed the chaos of a dodgeball game. It's a game of luck rather than of skill and therefore has the most equal playing field. Although much of my early school days weren’t so pleasant, I have fond memories of such exciting battles. My favourite part of playing as a kid was - I’m not sure if anyone else’s grade schools did this - at the beginning of the game when the opposing teams were facing each other waiting for the signal, someone (sometimes me) would start pounding the gym floor and clapping to the tune of Queen’s, We Will Rock You. Boom! Boom! Clap! Boom! Boom! Clap! I remember it being such a powerful and exciting feeling.
I longed for the ease of kinship and camaraderie that came from whipping a foam ball at someone’s head. So, when I returned to this university determined to get the “full experience”, I thought, What’s a better way to start than some good ol 'collective record breaking?
The University of Alberta first broke the record for the Largest DodgeBall Game in 2010 with 1,189 participants. University of California Irvine did so the same year with 1,736 players. Then the Air Force Academy in Colorado, Irvine again, and the U of A once more in 2012 with 4,789 participants. On September 23rd, 2022, our beautiful university community aimed to beat the latest record of 6,084 players set by Irvine in 2012. This was no small feat to be sure. Wrangling 6,500 participants seemed like a huge undertaking for the UASU and I was extremely excited to see how it would play out.
It has been a fair few years since I last attended university and so I find myself operating alone on campus quite often, and this was no exception. But I know that because I am a part of the university community, I am never truly alone at events like these. We are a team.
I meandered alongside SUB with my fellow students towards the distant sounds of pep and enthusiasm. Music and excited chattering could be heard in the distance, and my anticipation grew steadily with each step. Upon arriving at the gates, we were instructed to check our bags in the Butterdome and then to be sorted into teams to get our shirts, Green or Gold. Already there were a few hundred people in their shirts mulling around the field waiting to get started, and as I was selected to be Gold I made my way to join my team mates. Go Gold!
The sheer number of humans in my immediate vicinity felt unnatural and spooky given the last two years of isolation, and a packed lecture hall was nothing compared to what this would become. My social anxiety prevented me from reaching out or interacting with the team and yet I still felt like a part of something. I was participating, I was helping. We were all there to achieve a common goal and that knowledge was comforting and inclusive. I began to relax a bit and sat on the grass to observe my surroundings
More people trickled in and joined their teams, some taking photos together or chatting to pass the time. The players were making quick work of customising their shirts. Sleeves were torn off and the scraps used as sweat bands, wristbands or hair ties. At one point a giant conga line was formed which paraded around the Gold side of the field growing exponentially as it went. It grew so long the end was impossible to find. The crowd was dense enough that the conga line stopped and started suddenly several times, causing people to crash into each other only to then run and catch up to the person in front of them. The sense of school spirit was palatable, and I was loving it.
At last, the balls were dropped onto the field. We had seen them earlier confined to their cardboard prisons but now referees were tossing them half haphazardly to each other and lining them up. Soon the centre line was obscured by thousands of spongy black and red balls waiting to be launched and we were becoming more excited to get started. The instructions rang out over the speakers and our teams condensed towards their starting lines, preparing to leap into action at the sound of the call “DodgeBall!!!!”.
Honestly most of us didn’t hear the call and only knew the game began by the sight of hundreds of dark spheres soaring through the sky. We began to make our way forward into the battlefield in an attempt to reach the balls, eager to partake in the madness. I stooped to reach for one nearby but a teammate grabbed it first, and just as I was about to continue my quest… I was hit! And from behind, by my own team. I was out. Feeling a tad disappointed I waded through the chaos towards the edge of the field to watch.
This new view of the game more than made up for my untimely demise. As an observer, this was not a game, this was a war akin to those in classical fiction movies. The teams, like Troy and Mycenae, catapulted dozens of balls hard and fast across the field. A sea of the discarded projectiles separated them. The players in front bobbed and weaved skillfully, avoiding being struck. The referees scurried between teams tossing balls back into play. It looked like fun, being in the thick of it like that, and I was tempted to sneak back in and rejoin the game.
The scene was pure chaos, faces contorted with passion, others winced in fear. Bodies dipped in and out of the battlefield throwing their balls blindly, hoping to strike any unlucky target then scurrying back to safety of the crowd. The Green team appeared to have the advantage, battling closer to the centre line, but Gold certainly wasn’t giving up. A group of particularly rambunctious boys ran, slammed, jumped and snatched with such gusto I half expected them to shout war cries as well.
Balls bounced the legs of those of us watching and we kicked them back into play with amusement. This was awesome. A photographer next to me was hit in the knees and chest several times all while steadfastly capturing the moment. And what a moment it was. Never before had I seen such a turnout for a school event and I was taken aback by the sense of joy and child-like wonder uniting us. I could sense the freedom of both teams, finally able to frolic and be silly together after the last two treacherous years, and was filled with their shared joy. I was proud to be studying at the U of A.
Since I was no longer playing I wanted to get my things before watching the rest of the game, even if it meant stepping away from the excitement for a few moments. I turned to head to the Butterdome when suddenly, “WHAP!!!” a stray ball going full speed collided with my face! My glasses were slammed into the bridge of my nose sending shooting pains up my forehead and around my eyes. A resounding sympathetic “Oooof '', echoed from the spectators around me as I clutched my hand to my face, shocked. I wasn’t injured but my face certainly hurt. Those who saw asked if I was okay. I sheepishly replied “Yes, but I’m going to go sit down”. Instead I left to get my backpack feeling embarrassed, frustrated and sore. This is why I don’t do sports, I thought, reflecting on the many soccer related concussions I had incurred throughout my schooling.
I left campus feeling dejected at first, like the day hadn’t panned out as I had hoped. But upon arriving at home and preparing to write this story I considered that many people were also hit in the face and felt embarrassed today. Not all things that are worth doing are easy or pain free, but they can be easier if we do them together. Now more than ever events like these are so important to our school culture. Learning to acknowledge and appreciate each other's struggles and strengths, seeing ourselves as equals working for a common goal, bonding and making others laugh, will help us build a better future for everyone. We are all in this together, we are not alone, and we all count. Just as each one of the over 6,000 people on Friday counted. Without each individual there, whether alone, or with friends, eliminated quickly or surviving until the end, we would not be able to break a world record. There is such strength in numbers and in our community, and if we can do this, just imagine what else we can do together.