The aroma floating around this weekend in Midtown Sports and Wellness was hard to ignore. It smelled of sweat and hot rubber and barbecue and beer all blending together in the air.
It smelled like handball.
This weekend was the annual Dog Bowl Classic, a tournament held every year in Albuquerque that draws players from all around the Southwest.
I was there, headband and deerskin gloves in tow, to compete in my third-straight Dog Bowl. Unlike my last two trips, this year's tourney was like an afternoon trip to the dentist - quick but excruciating. I teamed with my doubles partner, Bob "Big Man" Parker - Dad to me - to lose our one and only match in the B-doubles bracket. We fell quickly and quietly to a pair of old friends who berated and chastised each other as they picked us apart like MJ and Scottie.
The next day wasn't much better. One singles match and I was done. I was shellacked by a 17-year-old from Phoenix who I more than trumped in experience - seven years to his one-and-a-half - but not skill.
Yes, this is a humbling and exceedingly frustrating sport.
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But it's also beautiful.
Look around the tournament and you'll see strangers becoming fast friends, bonded by a game that's harder to master than any other. They joke and jab each other as they watch matches in surrounding courts, some from bleachers behind a windowed back wall, but most from high above, looking down on the action like Romans at a gladiator fight.
"Handball players are definitely a tight-knit group," said Dan Armijo, the only pro at the tournament. He's currently ranked 11th in the world.
"It's such an obscure sport, but we all love it so much," he said. "We play, and it gets competitive, but then you go out with the guys you play and it's like you're partying with all your friends."
There's a respect handball players have for each other that stems from remembrances of our zygote stage in the game. When you first pick up a handball and start smacking it around, the thought comes quickly: "This sucks."
Played with basically the same rules as raquetball, handball has a degree of difficulty its idiot cousin doesn't touch. You must be able to hit the harder, smaller ball with your off, usually left, hand. It takes months of awkward training to get it down, and many young players become too frustrated to continue. Some handball veterans will say you have to learn to think with both sides of your brain if you want to get it down.
Stick with it though, and a healthy addiction is formed that can last a lifetime.
"I used to play eight times a week," said Jim Midyett, 56. "Now it's just once or twice a week at the most for me. I wish I could play more."
Midyett's face is aged and worn, but nothing like his hands. A handball junkie since he was 17, he's had four finger surgeries, all due to handball. His digits are puffy and bent slightly in odd directions. He also has handball to thank for three knee operations.
But he's still out there playing and having a blast.
His injuries are indicative of his love for the game, but not necessarily the toll it will take on a body. Armijo has played his way through the world rankings over the course of several years, and he has yet to suffer a single injury.
And while he is fortunate enough to play for money, the others at the Dog Bowl play for the fun and deep satisfaction of competing in a sport that flawlessly combines speed, strength and skill. These are firefighters and physicians and computer programmers who spend their free time competing in this fantastically difficult game that helps their bodies and their minds.
There is a UNM handball club that plays every weekday in Johnson Center. If you're interested in learning the game, contact Julian Graham at 440-4729.
