I like to keep up. The current craze for women’s sports, particularly basketball … Kudos to Caitlin Kelly …is a challenge. Why? I am now and always have been … what is the word? Uncoordinated? Clumsy? Probably both. Even the simple street game, hopscotch was hard for me and jumping into a turning jump rope? Not a chance. I was the anathema of the school yard.
So when it came to high school and gym or PE was not one in which I excelled. Not hurting myself was my goal.
And in college, well here is my story.
SU required students to take four semesters of PE. For the female version, that took place in the Women’s Building, located off Comstock Avenue. It was the Mecca for women’s sports. There were choices for those four semesters but the only ones I am remembering were Fencing, Modern Dance and Basketball. I’m sure they had tennis and so forth, but I am very clear that I lusted after Fencing. It was so much more romantic than the other options. But, no matter how early I signed up, I was wait-listed. Fencing was the most requested PE activity for women at SU. There are only so many instructors, padded vests and protective head gear not to mention the rapiers. No female swashbuckling for me.
For one semester I took Modern Dance.
This required specific clothing. The student supplied the leotard and SU supplied the floor length circle skirt, de rigeur for Modern Dance. At SU PE also meant classes and lectures about the sport you for which you signed up. Oh, my gosh, how many short, grainy films did we watch about Martha Graham and Isadora Duncan? The teacher whose name I have long forgotten spoke those women’s names as one would speak of God in church. And when she told us how Isadora met her maker …well, it was more than dramatic. I did make a mental note not to wear a silk scarf when riding in an open motor vehicle. Instruction was mostly watching these films and our final for the semester was a dance composition that we, the class, designed and preformed. The group of 12 met about two hours before our performance to plan. We wore our long sleeve leotards and the circle skirts. The quickly invented plan was to start seated on the floor in a circle. One of us would arise and tap each girl as she danced around the circle, causing each to rise and circle after her. Of course this terpsichore was performed to music. We had two choices, based on what records were available. One was Sleepwalk by Santo and Johnny and the other was Claire De Lune, by Debussy. We chose Clair de Lune because one of us had a 33 1/3 of the music
I took basketball for two semesters. Ms. Wadsworth was our instructor. Note here that I do remember her name. We used to joke that she was probably the only person in the world who could logically connect basketball to the Renaissance or the Sermon on the Mount. Those Wadsworth lectures on basketball were thorough, if not a bit unbelievable. But we did learn that although Jim Naismith is credited with the invention of the game, it had it roots in other activities throughout the world. Personally I don’t think that Mr. Naismith studied the history of games of people all over the world in order to figure out how to get a round ball through a basket. We were actually tested on this.
And back then, in 1959, women played half court basketball. You stayed on your side of the court. Boring. Boring. Boring and, being that I was playing, dangerous. One of the gals shot the ball from the other side of the court to me and it hit the tips of my outstretched fingers. Ouch. By the time the game was over, the pinky finger on my left hand was the size of both thumbs. One of my fellow players called Ms. Wadsworth’s attention to my finger … and I was of course trying not to appear weak but the racking sobs were a big giveaway … Ms. Wadsworth, shook her head, coached me on what to do the next time the ball came at me and as a side remark, “ Oh, soak that finger in the cold water of the drinking fountain”. Which I think is the equivalent of “walk it off”.
Back at my dorm, the finger started to change colors and I was advised to go to the infirmary to see if there was anything that could be done. Off I went. It was broken. Yup. The intern on call padded it so that it was maintained a slight curve, wrapped it in serious looking tape and told me not to use it. Really?
When I reported to PE next, Ms. Wadsworth’s assessment of my dramatically bandaged broken digit was use my other hand while I was playing. I tried to explain what the doctor had advised and her reply was that I should not use it while I was playing. Didn’t I understand? I told her that it would be dangerous to play with a broken finger. She pulled herself up as straight as she could and told me that there were “no excuses” in basketball. Then she said that maybe I should have chosen Fencing where you only use one hand.
