by RAY FITZGERALD of The Boston Globe
Photo courtesy of Tom Wersderfer
At 8:10 last night, Fitzgerald-Timex time, a lady named Myra Docherty walked into a spotlight at center court at The Garden and belted out “God Bless America” in the best Kate Smith tradition.
Mrs. Docherty physically resembles Miss Smith about as much as Laurel resembled Hardy, but neither does box lacrosse remind anyone of lawn bowling.
The new mayhem in town began last night and those assembled seemed to enjoy it.
Whether they understood it is debatable although young men bashing each other about the cranium and other vulnerable body parts does not need a great deal of understanding.
It’s high score wins and everyone to battle stations.
At 8:25 when there had already been a fight, a game misconduct, an eye injury and assorted somersaults, a voice rang out from the second balcony:
“Call ’em right, you bum.”
See? It doesn’t take long to become an expert. In a game or two, the fans will be yelling, “Thompson, go home” or “Bell, wake up” with just as much vigor and satisfaction as they now scream “Hodge, you stiff.”
A scientific sampling of early arrivals at the Garden last night (interviews with the first six people I stumbled into) indicate the crowd was there out of curiosity.
Only wives, relatives and an occasional Indian down from upper New York State seemed to know any rules beyond three strikes is out and last man in the pool is a rotten egg.
Photo courtesy of Tom Wersderfer
“Boston’s ready for a new sport,” said Grace D’Agostino of East Boston, who was part of a six-person group that had coughed up $6.50 each to satisfy their curiosity.
“In a way, sure, I want to see the violence,” said Mike Driscoll of Brighton, who came in with what he called four other madmen from the telephone company.
“It beats Hogan’s Heroes,” said super sports fan Jon Miller of Brookline.
Harry and Dorothy Herscot said box lacrosse was a marvelous game.
They said everybody in Greater Boston should come see it. They said, yes, they had bought season tickets, because, they wanted to get in on the ground floor.
Harry and Dorothy Herscot are the parents of Jim Herscot, president of the Boston Bolts.
It was a different Garden than for Sunday’s Celtics-Bullets game. Not entirely different, of course. The grime was still there.
Photo courtesy of Tom Wersderfer
But the huge TV trailers weren’t parked outside. Gab drivers weren’t doing their Indianapolis 500 imitation on Causeway street.
The old gentlemen selling peanuts were absent, and nobody in The Horse wanted to punch anybody’s lights out because of a difference of opinions over the merits of Bolts goaltender Bob McCready.
Rita, the banner girl, hasn’t been turned on by. the import yet. The only signs hanging from the second balcony said “No Smoking.”
It would behoove the Bolts to get somebody named Derek on the roster, so Rita could drag her “Derek, You’re Beautiful” sign out of the garret, where it’s been reposing since Sanderson kissed us goodbye.
The court, or semi-polished surface as we box lacrosse experts call it, was painted dark green and is said to be a dance hall floor from the ’40s. If one looked closely, one could almost see Tommy Dorsey being checked into the boards, trombone and all.
Photo courtesy of Tom Wersderfer
A semicircle made up of dotted lines surrounds each goal. I’ll explain what this means at a later date. There are two faceoff circles in each half-court. These are, rightly enough, for faceoffs.
There is no between periods activity, no Zamboni gliding up and down the field of play. A suggestion that the city donate a street sweeper to make the fans feel at home was reportedly vetoed by the Bolts management.
“Let the blood stay,” they said.
Several things are readily apparent to anyone watching with half an eye — and by the time this season is over that may be what some of the players are left with.
You have to be tough to play this game and you must love it. You must be super-competitive, in great condition, and possibly bereft of your senses for a couple of hours.
Dave Cowens, who was there last night, must have loved it.
