Memory 3: A Lesson in Human Potential

I found a button on the street today*, and it brought to mind the subject of memory number three.

The date: Thursday March 22, 2001
The location: The ‘kstone, number 182.
The time: Way too late, as usual.

The significance of this date in sports history is much bigger than many may think:

• Underdog 6-seed Southern Cal eliminated Kentucky from the NCAA Men’s Basketball Tournament, effectively ending the career of Kentucky coach Tubby Smith’s son, Saul.
• Future Bulldog great Musa Smith broke his foot in spring practice.
• The San Antonio Spurs defeated your Atlanta Hawks, 115-101 (Editor’s Note: In actuality, nothing could be less significant than this).
• Mankind’s greatest grassroots sporting movement began.

No, not midget-tossing. That happened much earlier, somewhere in Auburn if I’m not mistaken. I’m talking about Phase-freakin’-Five.

Let me point out, before continuing with the story, that we’re still talking about this. Yes, some of you thought this would be a passing fancy, that this would be a fad that would fade into the annals (hu huh) of failed start-up leagues such as the USFL, the ABL, and the XFL.

But, vah! The WPFA lives on! The World Phase Five Association Triumvirate in fact is sending a delegate to Nashville, Tennessee next Tuesday to view, and perhaps sign a lease on a new venue for play. Naysayers, be warned. Phase Five is alive and well in the hearts and minds of your children and grandchildren.

On March 22, 2001, a very wise and uniquely attractive group of gentlemen were at what would become Knight Court, then known as 182 Creekst0ne Drive. Never to be the movie-watching type, and as yet not in possession of a Playstation 2, these gentlemen sought a new, more intelligent yet fan-friendly diversion. If you were present at the roast (which by the way, supposedly ended last Saturday), you know the details of the sport (or, should I say “lifestyle”) as so eloquently detailed by Phase Fiver Corley. But the end of the first match was particularly powerful and moving.

Three pioneers, traveling then uncharted territory, braved the often cruel and blurry conditions of the first four phases with boldness and aplomb. Momentary setbacks – the Object’s bouncing lifelessly off of a pebble on the sidewalk, a particularly cumbersome trip to retrieve the rebound from under the Explorer – caused them no reconsideration of their purpose.

The question remained, as Knight began to approach the Holy Grail of Sport. As many have asked, “Will anyone ever run a four-minute mile,” or “Will anyone ever break the single-season home run record,” we too were forced to ask: “Yes, reaching Phase Five is noble and right, but is it achievable?”

As Knight announced his full name (Michael D. Knight… the “D” stands for “Damn!”), his hometown, and his phase of pursuit, he knelt as though appealing to the God of Sport for grace and accuracy. He peered at the Cup, and he understood it. Mike took three steps back from the foul line, stood in the stretch, took a small hop for good luck in the direction of the house, and lobbed the Object toward its destination. A gentle arc preceded a bounce, that was most certainly guided by a Loving Creator, into the house. The Object cleared the couch, and with a firm nudge removed the Cup from its perch. With that bounce the question was answered: a resounding “Yes!” accompanied by the collective roar of 6 billion human beings who lived vicariously through Knight’s successful foray into the unknown capabilities of the human animal.

Upon realizing the weight of his accomplishment and its implications for the future of humanity, Mike did what any reasonable person would do. He leapt toward the heavens with one finger in the air, raised the other arm in victory, and ran toward the house like none had ever run before. He then made a sharp right turn toward unit #180, and then to the end of the driveway, turning left onto Creekst0ne Drive. His spirit burst forth upon the world, as his hands lowered from their raised position to the center of his shirt. Here, he grabbed the garment from the center, and forcefully pulled the shirt from his person, and into the record books. As Mike ran in jubilation up the hill (the site of a later feat of sport), the buttons securing the shirt were ripped from their stitches and tumbled in random fashion around the site of his joy.

Mike screamed in excitement, as the other players applauded his accomplishment and he lifted his shirt into the air… victorious. A sole button tumbled into the yard where I would one day find it, to remind me of that day and the power of three believers.

Since that fateful night, eight more champions would be crowned and their names permanently inscribed on the Cup. Knight would later be named the first (and to-date only) member of the Phase Five Hall of Fame. Talk show hosts would gush over the worldwide craze, and scholars would debate the societal implications of "The New Recreation,” as academics would come to refer to the movement.

In the future, the venue will change. The First Generation will make way for subsequent generations of Phase Fivers. Rules will come, and rules will go.

But legends, my friends… legends never die.

Notes:
*This statement is untrue.