On the Rebound: Old gyms a religious experience

By Mitch Howard

It’s hard to believe someone who began covering sports in 1988, made his first trip to East Bernstadt’s gym this week. I’m willing to start the petition to never, ever tear this place down.

I walked in with the kind of swagger you have when a camera is dangling from each shoulder. I expected to take a usual spot somewhere under the goal. It would have worked fine if I were 6 inches wide. That’s about how much room you have from baseline to wall. My feet wouldn’t fit.

Standing just inside the door I had two choices. Take the stairs to the left or post up No. 23 for Jackson County. You are that close to the action in these old gyms. I wouldn’t have been able to keep the kid from scoring, so I took the stairs.

Right decision.

Two left turns and you are in a balcony above the goal. Much better seats than the upper arena at Rupp. I hung my camera through the rail and feared I was so close to the action the flash would blind a player or I would drop a camera on their heads. I’m pretty sure I could have swatted a shot from this perch.

Later, I walked along the sideline and could reach into the elevated stands and shake a hand. I passed the dance team, dressed as little angels. They talked, giggled, and swung their legs from the stands. I gave them room. I didn’t want to be kicked in the head by an angel.

Old gyms are magic.

If you have never seen the film Hoosiers, then you might not get it. There is more life in a gym that has hosted hundreds of games and thousands of players than the newest cookie cutter gym.

I have not seen the new London gym. That needs to be on the 1,000 Things to Do list. I’m pretty sure I won’t rate it ahead of the old gym to me.

I do have history at the old London gym. The first thing I recall is that nobody wore Air Jordans, or brought their equipment in a snazzy Under Armor bag. Your shorts and shirt were rolled up inside a towel and secured with a rubber band on each end. The uniform was a pair of maroon shorts and a plain white T-shirt. My shoes came from the Dollar Store and became popular because they made a louder squeak than other shoes when you cut sharply on the wooden floor. We all thought squeaky equaled faster. The shoes were orange and black. I guess color coordination never was my thing.

It wasn’t much later that I discovered the old Sue Bennett Gym. There were dead spots in the floor that would grab the ball and hold it. I thought the basement was haunted, but still stood in wonder in the locker room as if the Kentucky Wildcats may have gotten dressed there.

One day, a friend and I snuck into the gym to shoot for a while. We were the only ones there on a quiet Saturday morning until someone barged in and disrupted our fun. Earl Hayes was president of Sue Bennett College, so he had that right. Mr. Hayes was very pleasant and asked who we were and how we got in the gym. We told him the door was open. We didn’t tell him it was the basement door we jimmied. Mr. Hayes thanked us for our honesty and told us to have fun. And if we wanted to attend college, he would love to have us at Sue Bennett. I studied two years at Sue Bennett and played a lot of games there without sneaking in.

One more old cathedral comes to mind that many in London will not know. The Gatliff Gym at Cumberland College was magnificent. I remember the awe as a young reporter covering the Indians, before they were the Patriots. Randy Vernon seemed to belong on the Mt. Rushmore of coaches with Rupp, Wooden, and Knight. I set up along the sideline with a camera and realized when you go from cold external temperature to the 250 degrees that was Gatliff Gym, camera equipment is useless. I’m trying to dry the condensation off the lens with my jacket, pants legs, or whatever will work. The ground starts shaking. It did not feel like an earthquake. Maybe a stampede with really slow horses. Then you start hearing an Indians chant. Students are making a Native American conga line that would have made Custer retreat. The sounds bounced around the gym the rest of the game. It was as loud as it was hot.

I don’t remember Cumberland ever losing a game there.

Of the four gyms I mentioned, only East Bernstadt still holds games. Maybe some of the players wish they had a new gym. If so, don’t wish too hard. You are part of a classic and should be as proud of that as who you are and where you are from.

I will be back at East Bernstadt. I may go on a diet first and stand pigeon-toed behind the goal.

Mitch Howard can be reached at mhoward@sentinel-echo.com

Text Only