COLUMN: Quidditch difficult without magic
I should have worn a cup.
Maybe a magic flying broom would have helped too.
I’m not sure what possessed me to take up Quidditch as a sport. Perhaps it came from my excitement for the upcoming movie. Maybe it’s because I have a paper countdown chain counting down the days until the final Harry Potter book comes out, and I remove a new link every day while my wife mutters under her breath, “Avada Kedavra.”
I was terrified to learn that this was a “forbidden curse,” which meant she was trying to kill me. She tried to convince me she would never use such a phrase, but just in case I keep a wand under my pillow and hope she really isn’t a witch.
I confess, I have actually read all the Harry Potter books up to this point. Say what you want about the storyline and characters, but I’m sold on the concept for one important reason: Quidditch.
For those of you who aren’t familiar with Harry Potter because you’ve been watching too much ESPN, there is a sport played by the wizards and witches called Quidditch.
This magical sport is a cross between dodgeball and ultimate frisbee with a hint of basketball. The magical part of this game is that it is played on flying broomsticks high in the air with balls that fly.
The purpose of the game is to get the most points by throwing a ball called a quaffle through one of three rings at the far ends of the field, called a pitch. Every time the quaffle goes through a ring, 10 points are earned. The game does not end until a special flying ball, called the snitch, is caught by the fastest member of the team – the seeker.
While reading the Harry Potter books, I always looked forward with great anticipation for the next Quidditch match. I always figured if Hogwarts was as boring as my schooling, I would have to look forward to Quidditch or else I would go crazy. Speaking of which, now that basketball season is over, I’m bored out of my mind. I think Quidditch should replace baseball as a spring/summer sport so Sports Center would be more enjoyable to watch.
Anyhow, while Quidditch is fun to read about, I’ve always thought it would be an awesome sport to play. The only problem is I can’t seem to find a flying broom and nobody seems to take Quidditch seriously as a sport.
That’s all about to change.
At the Statesman I work with some of the craziest people in the world: people who aren’t afraid to do something out of the ordinary and look foolish at the same time.
These are exactly the type of people I needed to dupe in order to start my very own Quidditch game. Sure enough, with a little bit of persuasion, a dash of excitement and $20 under the table to anybody who looked my way while I was talking, I was able to gather a group to play the very first game of the USU Quidditch League (USUQL). What? Not every acronym can be nice.
Last Friday we held the inaugural game of USUQL on the Quad. Eight brave, and perhaps a little psychotic, souls marched onto the pitch with their broom of choice and a heart full of apprehension waiting for all the passerbys to ruthlessly mock their attempt at Quidditch.
As for myself, I was pretty excited. I was more successful at organizing an imaginary game than I’ve ever been at putting together any real project. Maybe I should have done my Eagle project on Quidditch after all.
Walking onto the pitch I was prepared for anything. I had stealthily stolen the broom out of the kitchen closet and escaped the house without my wife noticing. I figured she might be a little mad if I got it dirty but after I became a pro Quidditch player and made millions, she would have to forgive me.
Since I had organized the whole Quidditch match and had made up the rules for the ground version of Quidditch, I was feeling confident I would finally be able to show my proficiency at some sport – even if it doesn’t really exist.
Sadly I was wrong.
When we lined up to choose teams, the two female team captains selected their players. I kept waiting for my name to be shouted out, but sadly I didn’t make the first cut. I was okay with that. There’s no shame in being a second pick. After all, the first pick is just a popularity vote anyway.
The second pick also went by and I was the only person remaining, standing with my white broom beneath my legs, feeling stupid. I couldn’t believe it. I’m practically at Harry Potter’s level when it comes to the sport and I was picked last place. I guess I’m not named Mr. Un-Athletic for nothing.
The game was a little rough and shaky at first since I had to adapt all the rules to a ground version. One of the first elements of the game that had to go was the snitch. I couldn’t think of any good way to have a snitch that would be difficult enough to make the game last long enough to make it entertaining, although I kept having visions of making a member of the track team run around with a bouncy ball and have the seekers try to catch them. But the track team was gone for the weekend so I had to nix the idea.
For the quaffle, we used a Frisbee, which had to be passed much like in ultimate Frisbee, with only five steps being allowed before it must be thrown. For the bludgers, we used two large exercise balls. If the player with the quaffle got hit by a bludger, it resulted in an automatic turnover. Other than that, anything went.
The game started with all players standing on their goal line. When the whistle blew (me yelling go) both teams ran to the center of the pitch where the quaffle and bludger were sitting.
Quidditch turned out to be much more exhausting than I ever thought it would be. For starters, each player was required to keep the broom beneath their legs the entire time. This made running awkward and unbalanced because I was forced to hold the broom with my left hand while I tried to do everything else with my right hand. This made throwing the quaffle difficult at first, and I ended up racking myself at least a couple times throughout the game.
The other exhausting thing was the fast change of pace. Players would get hit by the bludgers so frequently that it was often hard to figure out who was in possession at any given moment.
When the other team would make a break for the goal, my team would have to forget about the bludgers and try to defend the rings, which consisted of hula hoops duct taped to chairs.
I figure with the correct number of players, seven, the game would be much easier and the bludgers would stay in play the whole time.
The first round lasted about five minutes before the opposing team scored. I was exhausted by the end of it. I wasn’t the only one either. Everyone, including people who are pretty fit, was tired and needed a break. We played a few more rounds and my team only scored once the entire game. Even though we got trounced handily, I felt good that my Quidditch experiment turned out well and nobody got injured, including one girl who walked right through the game while we were busy pegging each other in the head with the bludgers.
Sadly this game proved to me that while I may not be talented at hardly any sports, I can at least be a professional in one sport – even if it is imaginary.
For any of you who think you’re the next Harry Potter, the USUQL will meet again this Friday at 3 p.m. on the Quad. Just bring a broom and a scarf and get ready to play some Quidditch. Oh, and no wands please.
Seth Hawkins is a junior majoring in public relations. His forehead strangely starts to burn every time USU loses a sporting event. Comments and questions can be sent to him at sethhawkins@cc.usu.edu