2005. 2012. 2012. Katrina. Sandy.
Derecho. Three storms, three natural disasters. Only one happy ending. All
three of these storms had devastating effects on their communities, the
country, and the national psyche. Recovery is hard in the face of such gloomy
circumstances. New Orleans and the Jersey coastline still have not recovered
from the shit that was endured, as they continue to remain shitholes on par
with Chernobyl. However, Wifflepalooza and the Willie J. Huff Memorial complex,
with all the odds stacked against it have not only survived, but thrived.
On this
the 5 year anniversary of the devastating Derecho that rolled through on a
quiet and anticipatory night, I have been asked to reflect and comment on this
anniversary. As it occurred literally in my own backyard. It was six in the
evening and Al, Ricci, Pat and myself were putting the finishing touches on
Field 3. And I can say to this day when finished it was the best the complex
had ever looked to this day. We all went our separate ways and settled in to
prepare for the coming day, Wifflepalooza VI. Then in the middle of the night I
awoke, like Ms. Sera at a clam bake, in a pool of sweat. The power was out and
the winds were howling. I thought nothing of it, just a passing storm rolling
through. I awoke to the sight of my neighbor hauling an entire uprooted tree
down the street with his truck. It was at this point I sighed and thought to
myself “Fuck.”
I
walked to my backyard, through a brush and sticks in what looked like a
recently cleared forest. And when I made it to the back what I saw from left to
right was this: the Field 2 fence was completely uprooted and all over the
field. The fence on Field 1 was surprisingly intact. The wall however, was
another story. As in there was literally no wall, just five bare posts. I was
half expecting to see Ronald Reagan standing in front of it with hundreds of
Germans tearing it down. And then there was Field 3, or I should say there was
a lack of Field 3. I saw no signs that there was ever a field there at all,
even though I distinctly remember constructing and preparing it less than 12
hours earlier. Upon closer inspection of the missing wall I suspected the
pieces had flown into the woods, however all I could find was one small
triangular piece of plywood, no bigger than home plate. I looked and to this
day there have never been any pieces of that original wall ever found on the
complex or in its surrounding areas.
Then as
I went to check on the remains of Field 3 I realized it had ended up in the
woods, and all that would have to be done would be to pull it out and put the
fence back into the ground. My next decision was to call Al. first call, no
answer. Second call, no answer. Third call, no answer. Al’s history with phones
is like Ray Rice’s wife, it’s taken a beating over the years. I knew I wouldn’t
be able to talk to the commissioner until he arrived in person. I did what I
could until the reinforcement arrived. Ricci showed up with Bocchese, and we
all went straight to work. Al eventually showed and we reconstructed everything
we could as best as we could with what we had and the time we had to do it. As
we were in the rebuilding process, out of the woods we saw six men walking
towards us through the fields. It was the Monstars. They had walked here on
foot to come and help us with putting the tournament back together. And with
their help we were able to fix everything and were ready to put on another
tournament, this time it would be one for the ages, regardless of who would
win. There was only one problem, would anyone actually show up amidst the chaos
and carnage that hadn’t beseeched Vineland since the Italians kicked the living
shit out of the KKK and forced them to leave town (and coincidently take up
residence in the bigger shithole of Millville).
Slowly
one by one, car by car, team by team, people began to arrive. Not the full
eight teams that we were anticipating, but six full teams showed. The fight for
the most prized trophy in sports history was back on. The tournament went on as
most do with the Goodfellas eventually winning their first and only trident, in
what turned out to be an exciting set of semifinal and final games.
Wifflepalooza
had survived a natural disaster and the tournament continues to this day, with
Wifflepalooza XI being held at the end of July. There will be many people at
that tournament who did not experience that tragedy, and who do not know what
was endured. But for those of us who lived through it we now can look back and
say we were stronger than the storm.
Jake Lambert
Contributor
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