2003 Wrap-Up – A Year for Firsts

By Pam Wolfgram

The sun came up that day and it burned the way it had burned for five days prior. Maine had been in the throes of a heat wave for the record books, each day as sweltering the last, but one thing was different about that day. It was Lawn Olympics. LO’03, June 28th.

As the morning unfolded and a flurry of people started to arrive, the gods soon realized that there would be many things different about that day. LO’03 would be the year of Firsts.

It began at 8am. Jerry Charest showed up bright and early with a 150-pound pig in tow. The pig would be stuffed and trussed and placed on a spit to rotate in a charcoal cooker for the bulk of the day, eventually becoming a delectable lunch for all in attendance. This would be the first LO Pig Roast.

Second to arrive were the first-ever Clan Captains. Five steadfast mortals with glimmers of greatness in their eyes. The intention for the Captains was simple: to bring unity to the Clans, to build a sense of teamwork throughout the day of competition and to provide assistance to the gods. What arrived that morning, however was so much more. What arrived in those individuals was the beginning of a legacy. They set busily to work moving tables, unfolding chairs, carrying coolers, unpacking food, organizing registration materials, and most importantly, decorating themselves. Each was decked in their respective clan colors, boasting proudly of their intention to lead their clan to victory. Which would be triumphant in the end? Would it be the Wickets with their catchy little battle cry or would it be the Ringers with their matching tattoos? Or would the Pones claim victory over the day and become the first clan ever to achieve back-to-back Clan Championships?

The call from Style had come early. Gigi was in labor and he would not be able to attend. Like fireworks cracking and splintering off in a hundred colorful directions, Chad’s call would spark a series of LO firsts. For the first time, a mortal would be summoned to stand in for a god. However, it would seem that Style had underestimated the willfulness of his bride. Not wanting to break her perfect attendance streak, Gigi would make an appearance on her way to the hospital, marking the first time a woman in labor ever attended LO. Chad would come too – the first time a god ever attended LO disguised as a mortal - and eventually, they would have the first baby ever born on Lawn Olympics.

The God of Substitution, or so he was dubbed, then soon arrived driving a truck with LN OLPX plates and toting four kegs on ice. Four would set a record. Shipyard Brewing Company had generously donated kegs of Export Ale to the cause, becoming the first official corporate sponsor of the Lawn Olympics games. Substitution set the kegs up with taps, where they would sit supplying refreshment to anyone suffering from heat stroke or mild egg-toss exhaustion. Little did he know at the time that the suffocating heat would cause athletes to prefer water over beer (a first) through the most excruciating part of the day, putting its consumption behind the curve going into LOADed, and for the first time ever, despite everyone’s best efforts after dark, the gods would have beer leftover.

Then came the masses. Cars, trucks, vans, and sleeper-wagons, one after another, each filled with the smiling faces of individuals eager to fulfill their Lawn Olympics destiny. Attendance would be record-breaking, topping off somewhere around 150 people. Some brought tents, some brought coolers, and LO saw its first squatters as some brought entire fences with which to contain their wandering toddlers. As tiny towns sprung up all over the Fields, anticipation grew to a dizzying crescendo.

And so it began. LO’03. The gods disappeared into the house and a hush fell over the crowd as people strained to hear the pre-recorded audio introduction. God of Spirit had underestimated the necessary volume – a first for the technical specialist, but alas, the error was quickly forgotten as the gods burst onto the porch to open the ceremonies. Matching outfits. Some instructions. An announcement or two, and then an overview of the day that would reveal some new events, the outcome of which would prove to be beyond anyone’s expectations.

There would be a t-shirt contest, and from the view of the porch, it seemed that everyone was willing to participate. There were t-shirts from all walks of life and all generations, some custom designed and others purchased especially for this day. In the end, a small child sporting a hand-made t-shirt would conquer the Custom category, while a pilot flaunting a relic from his past would take the Purchased class.

There would be a Trivia Contest, a first among clan-oriented events. The contest would prove to be a showstopper, the timing of which would correspond with lunchtime so the maximum number of people could observe and enjoy. There would be an unusual assortment of participants: a history teacher, a media buyer, a girl in braids and an excellent lovely assistant, to name a few, each hand-chosen by their Clan Captains to represent the Clan and to compete with utmost intensity. And compete they would.

And there would be a Scavenger Hunt. To the surprise of the Clan Captains, they would each be handed a list of items to collect, information to gather and belongings to show the gods. A win in this category would mean one measly point for the winning clan – the gods had not intended the battle to so vigorous - but hell hath no fury like a woman hiding bottle caps in her bra. Some would make phone calls to relatives with Internet access. Others would rifle through strange cars. Still others would travel to tollbooths far and near looking for the perfect currency to appease the gods. But some would sit, knowing grins that accompany confidence playing on their faces, fingers strumming lightly on their lawn chairs as they wait for just the right moment of reveal, for these were the wearers of the thongs. Alas, the hunt would lead to another LO first – the first time thongs would be shown off in daylight!

Thus the day commenced. Competition reigned. Spirits soared. Firsts occurred, over and over. Pass the Trash drew record numbers, breaking 50 players for the first time since its inception in 1999. Odyssey of the Mind was ripe with observers, who for the first time could cop a squat to watch the contest without fear of being smacked by an egg.

As the day wore into evening, one individual took it upon herself to break new ground for all of womankind. The trap had been set and she had fallen into it; she accepted her fate gracefully. As LO’03 recognized the first-ever female CHOD, the courageous young lady dawned the t-shirt with pride and boldly took her place atop the lookout in order to lead the crowd in a stirring rendition of the Star Spangled Banner. Moved to tears and proud to be in her presence, her fellow females sang along to support their Chod-sister.

And then there was LOADed. Ah, LOADed! It was true: the day had been one of Firsts, as, in retrospect, it should have been. That day, June 28th, was the birthday of one Michael James Anderson, the first god ever to turn 30 on LO, as well as the true birthday of Katie Bernheisel, daughter of Style. Not wanting the Firsts to end, the crowd swung from one birthday into another at midnight, as ladies of all shapes and sizes dawned togas in honor of their beloved Petit Fleur, an act that would ultimately lead to the first boob ever photographed and placed on the website, even if it was by accident. The margaritas were gone; the slush was empty, but there was still beer, so there would be the first organized live entertainment, the first microphone ever to drop from a tree, the first bullfight, and the first LOADed egg-toss.

Sunday would dawn on Riverside as tent-dweller crawled from their caves to clean up. A couple hundred solo cups, a dozen pizza boxes and some left-out pork later, the grounds would resemble normal again. ’03 may have been the year of Firsts, but one thing would remain the same, as predictable as the passing of time. After waving goodbye to the last of the athletes, the gods would settle down to revel in their success, eat a breakfast sandwich or two and nurse their hangovers. The dreams of Next Year always start here.