Crabs on Ice

I’ll spare you the sad saga of how/why I missed the 33rd annual Crabpot Tournament in Annapolis last weekend.  Suffice to say it involved a lot of ice that wasn’t on the rink and snow that was plowed into mountain ranges and frozen into glaciers.  And that was only Prince George Street.  Faint hearted soul that I am, I wasn’t about to venture across the Severn when I couldn’t even get near downtown.  So I missed seeing the awarding of the trophy topped by a genuine Maryland crab pot with guilded hockey player adorning the lid.

(Not exactly the Heisman, but a coveted prize nonetheless.)

Since the Crabpot is such a classic I have to write about it because skating at the Academy was a special part of growing up in Annapolis when the boys were young.  Until two years ago, Navy Hockey (a club, not varsity, sport at the Academy) called Dahlgren Hall their home pond.  Dahlgren, a beautiful old Beaux Arts building with a hanger-like ceiling, was built in 1904 and was designed as an assembly hall.  It has a balcony that wraps around all four sides and a plane hanging from the ceiling.  This creates a stunning setting for formal affairs (like the Ring Dance,)  but not much gallery space to view the games.   Nonetheless, it was great fun to stick around after skating lessons and hang over the side to watch practices and the games. 

The Crabpot Tournament, founded in 1978, is our variation of Boston’s famous “Beanpot.”   The idea is to have four local schools compete for state bragging rights.  What the boys and I learned the first time we attended, back in the early ’90′s, is that the match between Navy and Maryland (who rarely cross paths in varsity sports) was guaranteed to be intense and hard fought. Something about the bad blood left over from the finger-flipping episode in the 60′s (some people never forget) and the fact that the two schools are so close and so different gave that contest a particular edge.  I’ll never forget the hooting and howling when Maryland edged Navy in the final minutes (and continued celebrating in town the rest of the night.)  Imagine our surprise when we saw Maryland’s most aggresive forward treating his teammates to a few brews in our favorite restaurant.  Turned out he was a waiter there when not going to class or brandishing a stick.  The boys were suitably impressed that he could do that kind of hitting without landing in timeout.

 Navy didn’t get to play Maryland this year, because the Terps lost in the first round.  Alas, Navy didn’t win this year because they lost to Towson, 4-1 in the final.

Despite missing the nostalgic ambiance of Dahlgren Hall, the Mids hockey program has advanced significantly since their move to McMullen Arena in the Brigade Sports Complex.  Their new digs feature an Olympic size rink, which meets NCAA standards.  This will enable them to elevate hockey to varsity status in a few years.

(Navy was named the host school for the 2009 Men’s Frozen Four at the Verizon Center, further validation they are ready to take the next step.)

Since the Crabpot was the last home game of the season, it looks like I’ll have to wait until next year to see the beautiful new facility.  Hopefully by then, the only ice in Annapolis will be near a Zamboni.

Luminaries — in and on Annapolis Waters

My Saturday ambitions were modest enough – get downtown Annapolis early to secure a parking place and my favorite stool for the Army-Navy game.  (Preference is Philadelphia, but next best is perching in my favorite City Dock watering hole, just a block from the Academy gate.)

I hadn’t counted on two things – it was the day of the annual Parade of Lights in Annapolis harbor and also North Baltimore Aquatic Club’s Holiday Tournament at Lejeune Hall. The Parade of Lights is always a tourist magnet, but Michael Phelps in his Speedo promised extra wattage to the glittering galaxy.  Both the parking space and unobstructed view of the flatscreen were going to be difficult.

The Parade of Lights is living proof there can be Peace on Earth (or at least Annapolis harbor) between sailors and boaters. In this maritime community, the two rarely have kind words for each other. (“Blowhards!” growl one side.“Stinkpotters!” snipe the other.)   They even have separate boat shows to keep them apart.

But for the Parade of Lights, they set aside their differences and decorate their crafts with elaborate illuminated displays in celebration of the season. For several hours they glide together through the harbor and down Ego Alley as crowds cheer them from the dock and the sea walls.

Of course, the weather can be brutal ,so many crews convene a few hour early to fortifiy against the elements.   I learned, somewhere during the second quarter, that my personal viewing section was the official meet-up for several contingents.

Seems this has been an annual tradition for at least 10 years, I was told by someone with a blinking elf hat passing the first of many trays of Oyster Shooters.

Note: Oyster Shooters are known for their nutritional value.  Their beer chaser doesn’t insulate against cold. For those holiday spirits, they rely on someone called “Captain.”

Anyway, the merry mariners sang Christmas carols during commercials and cheerfully rooted for Navy during the action. When they were as illuminated as their vessels, it was time to ship out and relinquish their stools for the next invasion – pool parents.

This was a great opportunity for me to learn first hand about the phenomenon Terry talks about – youth sports. Particularly the growing interest in swimming, and the support network provided by the families who travel with their kids to tournaments like these.

The parents perched next to me were affiliated with the host club – North Baltimore, aka Meadowbrook, aka Michael Phelps’ personal pond. Their kids (three boys for one, three girls for the other) had been swimming and competing for years.

The most interesting thing, though, is that both dads had themselves been swimmers through college, and they married swimmers – producing tadpoles who themselves took up the sport. Second interesting thing — they continued a lifelong practice of recreational swimming as a fitness regimen and a chance to stay competitive.

Both dads were wearing shirts from the Great Chesapeake Bay Swim, the 4.4 mile open water challenge between Sandy Point and the Eastern Shore they did every year. As we talked about Maryland being the new epicenter of competitive swimming (thanks to You Know Who) they complained that the Bay Swim got little attention from the press because it is considered a fund raiser rather than a recognized sports event.

In truth, the Bay Swim draws open water swimmers from all over the country because of the challenging conditions and the training it provides. So we’ll have to work on getting that perception across. The Bay Swim is one of those hidden jewels in Maryland Team Terry needs to publicize more.

Back to the Holiday Classic, though. I learned from these parents that it has become a family tradition to spend the full weekend in Annapolis, even though they live only as far away as Baltimore County. One family stayed at the Weston, the other rented a townhouse for the duration. With hundreds of families coming from some distance, you can do the math on economic impact.

Funny thing is — they’ve been doing this in Annapolis for eight years and it’s the first time I heard about it. Which brings me to the next point — the Michael Phelps effect.

Yes, the media interest was on the presence of Michael Phelps, who was competing along with everyone else. If you’re wondering why an Olympic superstar was sharing lanes with club swimmers, the answer is fairly simple.

First, Michael Phelps grew up with North Baltimore Aquatic Club and did this event for many years. Second, Michael and his coach now own the facility, and are determined to make Maryland the focus of the competitive swimming world. (The mom in the conversation told me of a family who moved from Connecticut just so their son could train there.) Third, Michael Phelps, like any other athlete, needs to stay in condition and work on his technique. Competitive swimming on any level helps him do this, while providing tremendous inspiration to the new generation of swimmers who are thrilled to be in the same pool as he.

By this time, Navy had pulled sufficiently ahead and I felt almost safe leaving them to their own devices. Besides, the third wave of the invasion had begun – Parade of Light spectators.

It is estimated that 30,000 people came to Annapolis to view the Parade. When at least half of them passed between me and the flatscreen, it was time to go.

I fell in behind the parade of pool parents and hoofed to the Academy next door. Getting to see Michael Phelps was only as difficult as waving my ID to the Academy guard and walking into Lejeune Hall. Getting to the front of the gallery required a little slithering on my part, but I haven’t lost my touch.

I was amazed to see the natatorium completed filled with fans. Not just family and friends, but real fans. They may have come to see Michael Phelps, but it was obvious there is a genuine interest in this sport, particularly in Maryland.

I left after Michael won his heat (his form looked fine to me.) Bells rang on the Yard, proclaiming Navy’s victory, and the Chapel carillon chimed a seasonal refrain. As I walked towards the dock, the boats magically illuminated and the procession began.

All was well with the world.  And I was able to beat the traffic home.