Tucked away in a remote corner of the squash facility at Middlesex
School, which recently played host to the New England Interscholastic
“B” Tournament for girls, is a plaque. This plaque, attributed to an
author known only as “Norwood” – the Middlesex athletic department has
uncovered no further details regarding his background – sets forth a
concise credo regarding athletics:
A game is to be played for the game’s sake, and it matters not a button
whether it is won or lost, so long as both sides play their best.
No unfair advantage of any sort can ever be taken, and within these
rules no mercy is to be expected, or accepted. The lesson
to be learned by each individual is the subordination of self in order
that he may render his best service as the member of a team.
Finally, never on any account must he show the white feather. If
games can be played in that spirit, they are a magnificent preparation
for life.
Norwood’s athletic ethos harkens back to the traditional precepts
underlying such august institutions as Eton School in England.
The sons of the English aristocracy underwent training at the hands of
Eton’s legendary masters in order both to recognize their own
privileged position in English society and to subjugate their own
selves within the larger social milieu. The cricket pitches and
racket courts and polo grounds of the elite boarding schools were
conceived of as the training facilities for order and discipline on the
battlefields of Waterloo or Verdun.
Small surprise then that the value system espoused on Norwood’s plaque
still echoes in the mottos and mission statements of many independent
boarding schools in the United States, the oldest of which, built
around the English model, still cling zealously to those prestigious
trappings. The Latin motto of my own school – pro vita non pro
schola discimus – translates to “for life, not for school, we
learn.” What Norwood declared in terms of the values of athletic
endeavor on the field, or the rink, or the court, we now espouse with
regard to the student experience in the classroom.
One wonders, of course, whether that sense of patriarchal certainty or
“noblesse oblige,” so scrupulously cultivated in boarding schools of
the past, remains applicable today, given how much those schools, and
our society, have changed. Boarding schools that provided a
separate educational experience for scions of the New England
establishment now actively seek diversity, as much for the cause of
economic survival as for some kind of inherent moral good.
As Suzanne Mettzler has pointed out in a recent New York Times blog,
higher education is now a “great unleveler” in the United States:
“Higher education is becoming a caste system, separate and unequal for
students with different family incomes. Where students attend college
affects their chances of graduating and how indebted they will become
in the process.” The soaring costs of elite colleges and
universities, coupled with predatory lending practices and plunging
graduation rates at community and for-profit colleges, means that the
higher education system exacerbates, rather than diminishes, the gap
between the wealthiest and neediest Americans in terms of their
socioeconomic outlook.
In an interesting manner, this trend toward stratification is reflected
within the ranks of prep school squash; unlike the higher education
system, however, U.S. prep school squash represents real promise in
this regard. The amazing mentoring and coaching work done at urban
squash programs throughout the U.S., coupled with the additional
academic and life-skills education received at independent schools,
puts the least and most fortunate squash players on a more equal
playing field than in many other sectors of American life. In other
words, as opportunity in America becomes little more than a dream for
the majority of the population, the squash court provides a means of
access for the least fortunate.
To see these seismic shifts in action, you might have stopped by
Middlesex (or any of the other five host schools for the various
brackets of the New England tournament) on the weekend of February
22-23. Fifteen different independent schools, comprising the
middle tier of girls’ New England prep squash, competed at Middlesex
over the course of two days. A wide range of ability was on
display, from very accomplished players to eager neophytes. A
similar range of socioeconomic background could also be glimpsed if you
looked beyond the standard equipage of squash players. My own team
features girls from all strata, from those whose second homes in
Litchfield County could sleep our entire team comfortably, to those for
whom $100 to replace a racquet represents a real burden.
The key component to the diversification of the squash-playing
population lies in the urban squash movement, now almost twenty years
old. Urban squash in America was born in areas with traditional squash
connections -- Boston, New York and Philadelphia – but has spread south
and west in an impressive manner. A recent Huffington Post article
documented the growth to 15 programs across the country, currently
servicing approximately 1,400 inner-city youth. Another four
urban squash programs are currently in the works with assistance from
the National Urban Squash and Education Association, which contributes
to the movement by “identifying best practices, creating forums to
share ideas, and providing grants and other financial support.”
According to Julie Greenwood, executive director of Squash Haven,
“Students and their families become aware of different types of
educational environments (including private schools) and opportunities
than their peers.” Having gained entry into those formerly
exclusive institutions, the urban squashers “develop relationships with
peers and adults from far different socioeconomic, geographic, racial,
and other backgrounds than their own,” further enhancing their
curiosity about different experiences and different environments.
Jose Rivera, a graduate of Berkshire School and Bates College, has seen
this scenario from both sides. He realized early in his tenure as
a Squashbuster that, “I was able to learn about private schools and
colleges, believing that maybe I could become a part of that world and
it wouldn’t be a fantasy any longer.” Rivera also notes that
squash has brought him into contact with many amazing friends over the
years; not only that, but “every single job I have applied for
has been through a squash connection.” Rivera feels immense
satisfaction to be giving back to the same dynamic organization that
facilitated his own journey, for he now serves as a full-time coach and
mentor at the Northeastern-based program: “At the end of the day, we
help our students become well-rounded citizens who feel
empowered.”
That is not to say that the urban squashers integrate seamlessly into
their new environments. The boys and girls who find their way out
of the inner cities to the pastoral campuses of elite boarding schools
often face severe culture shock upon arrival. Given that many of
them come from, and return to, difficult dynamics on the home front,
boarding school can often seem more like an escape from their realities
rather than a newfound avenue toward opportunity. And the
overall numbers are pretty small, of course, as there are a limited
number of roster spots on a finite number of independent school squash
teams.
The other key scarcity is funding. The dollars are simply too
few, as we are reminded with each admissions cycle at independent
schools. In addition, the urban squashers who find their way to
prep schools have been joined by increasing numbers of international
players, a trend familiar to anyone who has followed collegiate squash
in the past two decades. The boys from Avon-Old Farms just won a
U.S. High School championship on the strength of three terrific
Egyptian nationals (as well as a New England Class A title), and more
and more prep school teams now boast at least one international
player. One fears that, in the zero-sum games of admissions and
financial aid at American independent schools, these two categories of
players will be increasingly pitted against one another as schools
trying to quantify the “impact” of inner-city U.S. minorities versus
international athletes on their campuses.
The last matches I was privileged to watch at New Englands, as my own
team had finished their efforts, showed this diversity in
microcosm. The third and fourth place match within the #2 flight
saw a New Haven urban squasher-cum-Suffield Tiger locked in mortal
combat against an upper-middle-class suburbanite from host school
Middlesex. As this duo battled their way toward extra
points in the fifth frame (the host player won 14-12), the #1 flight
came to a glorious end in similar fashion, with an international player
(a native of Guyana, the lesser-known powerhouse of Caribbean squash)
competing for St. George’s against a suburban club player from St.
Luke’s.
All four players exhibited the highest levels of skill and
sportsmanship, and crowd supporting them echoed their great
spirit. It was easy to enjoy this pinnacle of school-girl squash
and to reflect upon the merits of our sport, but it also occurred to me
to think back on old Norwood’s athletic values. For two of these
competitors, their means to socioeconomic access came with their birth,
and squash simply provides a means to demonstrate their own individual
excellence, or perhaps, given the increasingly anxiety-ridden college
application process for even the wealthiest Americans, some additional
level of leverage. In other words, half of these
competitors were already winning long before they stepped on the
court. (As it happened, the two players from wealthier
backgrounds also proved winners on the day, though a couple of bounces
here or there could have reversed those results.)
But for half of these contestants, squash has already changed their
lives. One from inner-city New Haven and one from out-of-country
Guyana, neither of whom would have had access to New England boarding
schools or elite American colleges without the sport of squash.
In the closing moments of the New England “B” tournament, the bigger
questions were distilled into the smallest, most measurable increments,
one swing at a time. Although the stakes were, in a certain
sense, higher than he could have imagined; even if their life stories
and physiognomies were outside the pale of his experience; Norwood,
wherever he was, would surely have recognized the pure commitment on
the part of these athletes. Prep school squash, with its
distinctive admixture of tradition and innovation, privilege and
opportunity, remains “magnificent preparation for life.” And maybe,
just maybe, prep school squash provides access to a wholly different
kind of life than many of its practitioners could have dreamed up for
themselves.
About the Author:A.J. Kohlhepp first picked up a squash racquet at Trinity College (before the Bantams’ perennial championships commenced).
An
English teacher by trade, he has coached boys’ and girls’ squash over
the past dozen years in addition to various other duties at Berkshire
School (Massachusetts USA), where he resides about 100 meters from the
squash courts, with his wife (a real writer) and children (beginning
squashers).
What's On My Mindis a column by rotating writers. Contact DailySquashReport@gmail.com
