Talking up the Team

October 9, 2006 - American Basketball Association (ABA)
Vermont Frost Heaves News Release


By Alexander Wolff

Been doing a lot more speaking than writing lately.

Take Wednesday of last week. Had a lunch gig in front of the Barre Rotarians, then hightailed it up Interstate 89 to address our players, who began training camp Monday.

I'm nearly 50 and, before getting swept into the maelstrom of starting a pro basketball team, had never before been to a Rotary event. Now I bounce around with bonhomie, head rattling with the tintinnabulations of rung gongs and the tunes to patriotic warhorses I haven't sung since elementary school.

The Richmond-Williston Rotary meets over breakfast in a white-steepled church. Vermont is lousy with white-steepled churches, which may explain why, five minutes past start time, our coach, Will Voigt, couldn't find it. As our director of ops, Mike Healey guided Coach V in by cellphone, Mike realized, mortified, that he wasn't just speaking over the Pledge of Allegiance, but standing in front of the flag.

At the Montpelier Rotary you can rise and trumpet some personal achievement, but have to pony up for the privilege by tossing a dollar into the "brag bucket." Best brag I heard that day: Our coach's dad, Fran Voigt, announcing that he'd just returned from a checkup in Houston that found him to be cancer free.

My Rotary adventure in Barre on Wednesday included the discovery that, through a misunderstanding, the speaker's slot had been double-booked. Through the grace of Susan, the director of Barre's downtown Studio Place Arts, we each spoke for half the allotted time, and as much as possible about each other's organization. "Of thee I sing" indeed.

Odds are that the scheduling snafu was mine. These days I sometimes think I've hit MIND-ALT-DELETE. Example: From Barre Rotary I drove the several miles to a dirt road on the outskirts of Montpelier, to leave some materials in the mailbox of Justin, the impresario who's organizing a "Hip-Hop and Hoops with the Vermont Frost Heaves" event. (Yes, we're in Vermont. But we try.) I used my Filofax as a writing surface for a note. An hour later, as I pulled into the parking lot of our practice facility, the Sports & Fitness Edge in Essex, my cellphone rang.

"Justin here. Got some bad news. Which is actually some good news."

He had my Filofax, which I'd left on top of the mailbox at the edge of that dirt road.

There'd be another trip down I-89 to fetch it-but not quite yet, for our players awaited.

To stride into our practice facility and see, arrayed before me, a ready-to-roll basketball team in Frost Heaves practice jerseys had me pretty chesty. I'd rehearsed what I wanted to say.

I told them how minor-league sports is all about "touches," allowing people, particularly kids, to interact at a personal level with pro athletes, even to the point of mingling in the pregame layup line.

I talked about first impressions, and how Vermont is really just one small town-and that Vermonters would embrace us unless we gave them some reason not to.

I shared with them how a woman had called our office that very morning, to rhapsodize about how much her little boy loved our players, because several had smiled at and engaged him the previous day at practice.

And I emphasized how we'd taken a risk by setting the bar high with TV ads touting our "players you can look up to"-you can watch the full, potentially hubristic 30-second spot "Remember Pro Basketball When It Was Fun?" at vermontfrostheaves.com-but didn't doubt that everyone we'd brought in could keep his balance even if plunked upon a pedestal.

"We don't expect you to be perfect," I said. "We're still learning, and lord knows I've made all sorts of mistakes. But we're doing something special here."

Finally, I put them on notice about the online reality series that Alex in Wonderland will continue to be. Our failures and foibles, as well as our successes, will be bloggable fodder.

"I'm not out to embarrass anyone. But I've made light of myself. I've made light of Coach V. I've made light of Travarus. [Regular readers will recall that Travarus Bennett is the Frost Heave who, driving up from Memphis, crossed the border into Canada before realizing he'd missed Vermont.] No one's keeping track of who gets mentioned how much or how. It's simply going to be how life plays out."

With the players standing just before me in a semicircle, it seemed only natural to huddle up, hands in the middle, for some concluding exhortation-the kind I'd seen so many teams incant on so many occasions, whether at practice sessions, or in games while breaking timeouts.

"O.K.," I said, mincing toward the middle, the players closing in. "On three."

Our hands rested one upon the other. Silence hung in the gym. Boy, did it hang. Finally, gently, Coach V spoke up.

"You need to tell us what we're supposed to say."

"Right. Like I said, I'm still learning. O.K. Um . . . 'attack,' on three."

The guys came through, covering for their owner. "One. Two. Three. Attack!"

To tell of that moment, I'd toss a dollar in the brag bucket. Just not sure that we can afford it.

For more information about the Vermont Frost Heaves and to purchase Frost Heaves gear, go to www.vermontfrostheaves.com

Note: OurSports Central no longer actively covers the American Basketball Association (ABA) as a professional league due in part to its inability to publish and play a schedule and the transitory nature of many of its teams. For information on professional minor leagues, please see OSC's basketball section.



American Basketball Association Stories from October 9, 2006


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