Spirit Magazine - June 2013 - (Page 88)

ing our nation’s self-styled mythos in which a man bootstraps himself from humble beginnings to the rarified air of unmatched achievement. Think of Rocky Balboa, a loan shark’s leg-breaker, then suddenly a contender for the heavyweight championship. Of course, Rocky didn’t actually exist. We also love our protagonists homegrown, so the best sports story should have a local-kid-makes-good element, like that crew of unknown amateurs who welcomed the world to the 1980 Winter Olympics in Lake Placid, New York. By the time the seconds ticked to zero and the U.S. hockey team had vanquished the unbeatable Soviets, we believed in miracles. But imagine how the story would improve if the American players were a bunch of Lake Placid natives who learned to skate by sneaking into the arena after hours. Generally, sport as riveting theater comes in two forms. There are the sudden bursts of wonder that come out of left field, sometimes literally. 88 SPIRIT JUNE 2013 Bobby Thomson hits a bottom-ofthe-ninth-inning, three-run blast to send New York’s baseball team to the World Series (“The Giants win the pennant! The Giants win the pennant!”) or a diminutive gymnast performs the vault of her life when she needs it most (“There it is! A ten! The gold medal goes to Mary Lou Retton!”). These are dramatic moments. And then there are sustained dramatic narratives. They unfold in stages, growing exponentially more compelling, like the Amazin’ Mets. In its famously bumbling history, New York’s lowly baseball team had never finished better than ninth in the 10-team National League— until 1969, when their miraculous, late-season rally erased the Cubs’ 10-game, first-place lead and propelled them to a World Series victory. Take all of these epic storytelling elements—the up-from-nothing heroics of Rocky, the triumph of the hometown kid, an enthralling narrative rife with riveting moments— mix in the messy complications of foul weather, and an underdog story worthy of Seabiscuit, and you have the delicious, arguably matchless tale you’re about to read. F RANCIS OUIMET (pronounced “we-met”) was the son of a hard-working French-Canadian immigrant who toiled as a gardener for The Country Club’s wealthy members. Arthur Ouimet scorned an afternoon on the fairways as a frivolity of the leisure class and took his son’s interest in the game as a personal affront. Talk of golf was not welcome in their little house, which was located directly across the street from the exclusive golf course in Brookline. From his second-floor bedroom window, Francis would stare at the parade of players strolling up the 17th fairway, and he was mesmerized. In fact, given that American golf was only a few years older than he, Francis may have been, according to Frost, the nation’s “first golf addict.” In their early years, Francis and his older brother, Wilfred, owned one golf club between them—a cutdown driver. They mowed a primitive three-hole course out of the cow

Table of Contents for the Digital Edition of Spirit Magazine - June 2013

Spirit Magazine - June 2013
Contents
Gary’s Greeting
Gary’s Greeting en Español
Star of the Month
Freedom Story
From the Editor
Your Words
Your Pictures
Media Center
Eat Drink Sleep
The Numbers
Wise Guide
Business
Eat Like A Chef
Promotional Series: Spirit of Music City
...the Greatest Sports Tale Ever Told
Your Adventure in Oakland
Promotional Series: Spirit of Charleston
Calendar
Fun!
Spotlight
Community Outreach
Route Map
Rapid Rewards Partners
Flight Service
The "if" List

Spirit Magazine - June 2013