A Student's Journey
Eric Horowitz - The annual arrival of the Paul Blank Invitational always reveals the game's evolution over the previous 12 months. This year is no different, and the game’s preparations have made it clear that a new era is dawning. It’s an era that vociferously announced its presence with the introduction of those two words no JDS kid eagerly awaiting an acceptance letter form Wash U wants to hear: “Wait list.”
It is not the first time registration has filled up faster than Sephardic minyan. However, this year’s 48-hour dash to donate is confirmation that an era of expansion and uncontrollable popularity is upon us. If you take last month's growth in “immediate members of the Fulop family prepared to kill Dan if he suffers a serious injury” and extrapolate it to the rest of the PBI, the increase is substantial.
To properly react to this new era we must understand it, but to truly understand it we must first understand how the game got to this point. While there is no one simple explanation, I think the most useful way to think about the development of the PBI is to view the game as a student matriculating through JDS. In a sense, over the last decade the PBI has made the jump from "awkward 1st grader way too excited about hot lunch" to "high functioning Torah L'shma Award winner."
As with most JDS students, the journey was anything but smooth. In the beginning the PBI’s heart was its players, and like a 2nd grader practicing foursquare by himself, the game made its mark by focusing inward. Friends and family mostly stayed away, much like Continental Math League fans after the JDS dynasty of late 90’s came to an end. In those days a pre-elementary recklessness led flags to be eschewed for tackling, and the result was numerous injuries that were both serious and comical. The game had a mean streak, and although you had more anxiety, its unpredictability made it more exciting (like JDS before the new building).
In the years that followed the game was like a burgeoning middle-schooler beginning to show signs of promise. Maybe it still spent a little too much time on optional science fair projects, and maybe its mom seemed to always be in the JDS hallways for no apparent reason, but overall it was beginning to function within a larger social community. Soon an aura of limitless potential caused sponsors and musical guests to flock to the game like the wife of an Israeli politician drawn to a speaking engagement at JDS.
It is not the first time registration has filled up faster than Sephardic minyan. However, this year’s 48-hour dash to donate is confirmation that an era of expansion and uncontrollable popularity is upon us. If you take last month's growth in “immediate members of the Fulop family prepared to kill Dan if he suffers a serious injury” and extrapolate it to the rest of the PBI, the increase is substantial.
To properly react to this new era we must understand it, but to truly understand it we must first understand how the game got to this point. While there is no one simple explanation, I think the most useful way to think about the development of the PBI is to view the game as a student matriculating through JDS. In a sense, over the last decade the PBI has made the jump from "awkward 1st grader way too excited about hot lunch" to "high functioning Torah L'shma Award winner."
As with most JDS students, the journey was anything but smooth. In the beginning the PBI’s heart was its players, and like a 2nd grader practicing foursquare by himself, the game made its mark by focusing inward. Friends and family mostly stayed away, much like Continental Math League fans after the JDS dynasty of late 90’s came to an end. In those days a pre-elementary recklessness led flags to be eschewed for tackling, and the result was numerous injuries that were both serious and comical. The game had a mean streak, and although you had more anxiety, its unpredictability made it more exciting (like JDS before the new building).
In the years that followed the game was like a burgeoning middle-schooler beginning to show signs of promise. Maybe it still spent a little too much time on optional science fair projects, and maybe its mom seemed to always be in the JDS hallways for no apparent reason, but overall it was beginning to function within a larger social community. Soon an aura of limitless potential caused sponsors and musical guests to flock to the game like the wife of an Israeli politician drawn to a speaking engagement at JDS.
As the PBI passed its 10th anniversary it continued to pick up friends, but it suffered through mishaps with registration and punctuality because it still couldn’t properly wield its growing power. The game was like a patrol who didn’t know the Friday early dismissal schedule. The board worked hard to iron out the kinks, improving the game's communication, appearance, and Tikkun Olam. Now making an appearance at the PBI is like finding a sham way to fulfill your community service requirement. You do it because everybody else is doing it.
This new era of popularity has left the PBI with some tough choices. Like a budding Hebrew a-capella group, it must figure out how to grow while staying true to its roots. What is the game to do?
The answer to this conundrum lies in the PBI’s student-like development. When it comes time for a student to graduate, there is an overwhelming urge to think of it as an ending. However as Deuteronomy and numerous alternative rock bands have taught us, that end is really just a beginning. So it is with the PBI as it embarks on a new era.
More importantly, the journey of a student reminds us that the PBI’s roots are in change and adaptation. Although the traditional nature of the game has always made it Gatsby-esque in its tendency to look backward, at its core the PBI is about flinging its changing form ceaselessly into the future. The lesson of the 14th PBI is that an unpredictable future is as much a part of the game as avoiding the alumni representatives trying to get your phone number. We have nothing to fear. We have nothing to worry about. Change will always be coming, and though it may at times be unsteady, we must embrace it.
This new era of popularity has left the PBI with some tough choices. Like a budding Hebrew a-capella group, it must figure out how to grow while staying true to its roots. What is the game to do?
The answer to this conundrum lies in the PBI’s student-like development. When it comes time for a student to graduate, there is an overwhelming urge to think of it as an ending. However as Deuteronomy and numerous alternative rock bands have taught us, that end is really just a beginning. So it is with the PBI as it embarks on a new era.
More importantly, the journey of a student reminds us that the PBI’s roots are in change and adaptation. Although the traditional nature of the game has always made it Gatsby-esque in its tendency to look backward, at its core the PBI is about flinging its changing form ceaselessly into the future. The lesson of the 14th PBI is that an unpredictable future is as much a part of the game as avoiding the alumni representatives trying to get your phone number. We have nothing to fear. We have nothing to worry about. Change will always be coming, and though it may at times be unsteady, we must embrace it.
