Once More, With Feeling

They had a funeral of sorts for the old Field House this afternoon.

There were speeches from the Bradley play-by-play announcer, Dave Snell, President Joanne Glasser, and ticket manager Corky Robertson, the son of A.J. Robertson for whom the Field House was named. Their voices bounced off the steel beams as the Field House lights buzzed noisily.

Dave reminded us that the Field House was not just special to the University, but special to the community, special to the neighborhood, and special to the nation. Those of us who've had Field House experiences could easily recall memories summoned by President Glasser's exhortation that if you listened very carefully you could hear the shoes squeaking, the thud of the ball to the floor, the roar of the crowd as it came to its feet as one, the band strike up the Bradley fight song. And besides her majestic words, you have to love a woman who quotes the Wizard of Oz and Dr. Seuss in one speech. How appropriate is, "Don't cry because it's over. Smile because it happened."

The ever gracious and kind Corky Robertson spoke last. Remembering the gifts of his father, he cited sportsmanship, efforts, fairness, and in his interview with Kirk Wessler, the ability to understand people. This can't be an easy time for him and his family, but as Corky said, "Everything has its time. Everything has its place." Bradley will petition the city of Peoria to rename Maplewood south of Main Street to A.J. Robertson Court. The University is also going to commission a statue of the beloved athletic director and coach.

On this day of farewell to the Field House, all the hoops, save the one at the east end of the arena, were gone. Corky was offered the opportunity to make the last basket, but he said, "We'd be here until August," so he gave his grandson the honor of sinking the last shot in the grand building.

After the ceremonies, the crowd of a few hundred wandered out into the foyer for cake and punch. One of the cakes was an amazing replica of the Field House. Across from it, stood a model of what the Bradley campus will look like when all the new buildings are constructed.

Those of us who've recently had the opportunity to knock around the quonset hut have wondered if all the great games and events are somehow contained in the memory of the building. As Corky Robertson said, "It's all about the memories--I have mine and you have yours."

In the next post, the last post, I'll be sharing just a few more.

A Few Last Baskets

Aside from attending the last official basketball at Robertson Memorial Field House, I, my husband, John, and son, Luke, have had a couple other opportunities to grace the raised hardwood floor on Maplewood. About a month ago, our friend, Mick Kenny, invited us to come watch the St. Mark's 6th graders he coaches play the 5th graders on the Hilltop. Afterwards, we got to shoot around. Luke, at age 4, couldn't get the ball to the basket without an assist from one of the adults. But he's a pretty good dribbler. During John's basketball career at Bradley in the mid-70's, he was a shooting specialist, and he hasn't lost his touch: he made 7 3-pointers in a row.

Our other excursion to the Field House was today, on Easter Sunday. We were killing time, driving around, waiting for an Easter egg hunt to start. My sister pulled into the Field House parking lot, and lo and behold, one of the doors was open. Despite the ominous warnings about trespassing taped to the door, and with trepidation, we entered the Bradley shrine.

The floor was lit and the scoreboard read 79-79. All the theater seats were gone and many of the red bleachers had been neatly excised from their moorings. My son, two nieces, and one nephew had fun running up and down the stairs, which had seemed so steep to me as a child, and across the wooden floor. I looked up at the box where countless games had been broadcast by WMBD and WIRL. My brother's girlfriend marveled that she'd never before seen an arena like this. My brother-in-law speculated about how loud it must have been in there, with the roar of the crowd bouncing off the steel beams supporting the ceiling. An orange water dispenser stood by the scorers' table. On the table was a sheet dated March 22, 2008 from the men's Bradley practice. Here's the drill:

11:00-11:15 Stretch
11.15-11:25 Fastbreak Sequence
11:25-11:35 Big/Small Shooting
11:35-11:45 One Man Down
11:45-11:55 Big/Small breakdown- "D"
11:55-12:05 5 Minute Scrimmage
12:05-12:10 Free Throws
12:10-12:20 5 Minute Scrimmage
12:20-12:30 Shooting

I hope that the Bradley men win on Monday against Ohio University and that this isn't the last of their practices at the Field House.

The Field House is musty and old. It was created from recycled materials. Except for the Papa John's pizza signs above the bleacher sides of the stadium, it lacks the advertising that is ubiquitous in other arenas. It honored A.J. Robertson at a time when naming rights weren't purchased by corporations.

There is something a little bit holy about the Field House

A Few Last Looks

I've had the opportunity to be in the Robertson Memorial Field House a few times over the last weeks, and I thought I'd talk about this grand ole' structure, which has served Bradley University so well since 1949. As most everyone knows, the Field House was constructed from two World War II airplane hangers, at least one of which housed B-29 bombers, according to the Historic Peoria website. The marvel of Maplewood also warrants a Wikipedia entry. And if you want to read the most comprehensive information about the Field House, go to the Peoria Journal Star's wonderful series Remembering Robertson: The Field House Project. These reports are written and assembled by Kirk Wessler, the sports editor of the Journal Star and a Maplewood kid himself.

My son's preschool teacher, Sister Elaine, invited us to go to the last official Bradley game as the Lady Braves hosted Northern Iowa on March 8. We sat close to the floor behind the Bradley bench. My four-year-old Luke caught a ball, was given a t-shirt, saw one of his classmates, laughed at the halftime baby crawl race, and munched on free popcorn, so he considered the evening a grand success.

Like the men's game, the women's game has become more physical as of late, and the players are bigger. After President Joanne Glasser acknowledged the seniors, the game got off to a rousing start, with Bradley jumping to a 21-2 lead in the first half. The woman from Northern Iowa never recovered, and Bradley went on to win.

As I watched the Northern Iown players shoot around before the game, I thought how meaningless it must be to them that this was the last game to be played in the Field House. They might look up at dark, drafty-looking, domed space with the metal beams criss crossing below the curved ceiling and down at the perilous, raised floor and think, "I'm glad I don't have to play here again." Heck, maybe some of the Bradley players were thinking this as well. Younger people haven't had the time and the experience to invest the Field House with the kind of meaning that makes some of us sad that it's going.

But anyway, the game's the thing, and for my money, its most thrilling moment came at the end of the first half when Bradley's Devyn Flanagan lofted a shot not far from inside the half court line, which swished through the net at the buzzer. It only extended Bradley's large lead, but still: seeing the ball sail practically soundlessly through the net from such a distance at the same time the horn is sounding: the visceral adrenaline flow such a moment produces, the collective rise to the feet and roar of the crowd is one of the reasons we watch sports and one of the reasons we have such great memories of the Field House.

The above picture is a postcard that was given out at this last offical game played at the Field House.