Metro League Tuesday: Garfield Students Ignore Authority, Storm the Floor

Teenagers Run Amok!

I don’t know if you are familiar with the psyche of the average teenager, but in my experience, telling a pre-adult not to do something is an accelerant like Aquanet to fire. Don’t you think Henry V’s parents were all like, “Don’t fight Harry Hotspur at Shrewsbury!” But he did anyway, and took an arrow to the face.

Garfield’s administration probably wished they had a full archery set Tuesday night, when their anti-floor-storming warnings went unheeded.

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To set the scene: After watching their school’s basketball team fall behind 21-6 to rival Roosevelt, enduring a 15-minute delay after a scoreboard malfunction, and sweating through an overtime period, Garfield’s students sensed that victory was finally near. Their Bulldogs led by two points, and Roosevelt had just 2.7 seconds to get off a desperation shot. Security guard Joe–a Garfield employee since my years at the school–edged through the twenty or so GHS cheerleaders and addressed the section. “If they win, don’t rush the court,” Joe told the front few rows. He pointed a little further back and shouted. “Don’t rush the court, okay?”

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But when Roosevelt’s Colin Noteboom’s three-point attempt bounced off the front rim, Garfield’s students galloped toward center court for some extemporaneous jumping around. Head hoops coach Ed Haskins was incensed, interrupting his post-game handshake ritual to order the students off the court. Not sure why, as the rest of us were already shuffling across the court. Maybe Haskins was embarrassed that Bulldog students were so excited over a win against a last-place team.

The fact that Roosevelt stayed close with Garfield was just one of many weird events during the evening.

For example, I learned that the Garfield P.A. announcer I enjoy so much–the long-winded, velvety-voiced guy who with his neatly trimmed beard and cowboy boots resembles a western-style James Lipton–is the front-man of a folk band called Tom Colwell and the Southbound Odyssey. This is what I love about life: In my wildest dreams, I could not have imagined something as perfect as that name for that guy’s band. Ah, truth, you can be so much better than fiction.

Tom’s description of the fifteen-minute scoreboard delay that caused a screaming match between the two head coaches was outstanding. “As you may have noticed,” he intoned, “the scoreboard is singularly blank.” It was indeed. Something was wrong with the electrical system; and perhaps in sympathy Roosevelt coach Bart Brandenburg also blew a fuse. He and Garfield coach Haskins engaged in a yelling match at half court, with both coaches required restraint by officials and assistants.

The game was certainly tense, much tenser than the basketball ability of the respective teams would indicate. But Roosevelt coach Brandenburg’s gameplay style–devouring defensive boards (often crashing all five players) and ignoring offensive ones–limited the second-chance points and transition baskets that Garfield’s offense relies on. His players patiently broke Garfield’s frequently-devastating half-court trap. Not for no reason was Brandenburg Kingco 2009 coach of the year.

 

His Roughriders broke out to an early 21-6 lead, finding space for mid-range jumpers against a soft Garfield defense. The lead probably could’ve been greater, if not for some very questionable charge calls against Roosevelt. You figured the Bulldogs would get back into it. They clamped down on defense, and got a couple of baskets from sweet-shooting frosh Tucker Haymond, closing the first half on a 13-6 run to pull within 8. In the second half, Roosevelt suffered from fatigue and foul trouble. Garfield’s defense was even more effective, holding the Roughriders to 13 second-half points.

The scoreboard malfunction came with Garfield still down 34-32, and 6:34 left in the game. The floor was empty, but the gym filled up with the sounds of Garfield’s pep band, which reached deep into its repertoire to keep the fans entertained. The cheerleaders did some dancing, and so did the drum line. The band’s energy kept the crowd in the game.

When the scoreboard finally got fixed, the score read RHS 34, GHS 31. Garfield’s fans began chanting “thirty-two, thirty-two,” demanding the return of the point that hadn’t been awarded. After a few minutes, the scoreboard was altered to reflect the correct score; at which Garfield’s students sensing an opening, began chanting “thirty-three, thirty-three.” They weren’t as influential this time.

Just after the game resumed, Garfield’s star guard Glenn Brooks gave the Bulldogs their first lead with a corner three-pointer that put the Dogs up 35-34. He hit a runner on the next possession to extend the lead to 37-34. But Roosevelt did not fold. They fought back to force the game into overtime, even getting a look at a game-winning shot, which fell short. They fell behind early in overtime, too, but snuck back into the game–again, having a chance to win the game at the buzzer. But, again, the shot was short, and Garfield’s students launched their forbidden celebration.