October 1, 2004

Sucker Sports

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I have a big bruise and some cuts on my rear end. They’ve been bugging me for a week — I can’t even sit down without a wince. But I guess the injuries are worth it, because I got them having one of the best nights of my life.

It started with a heave and a heavy breath at 4:30 a.m. last Friday. Standing on the lip of the knoll atop Libe Slope, I let it fly — my body, half naked, into the air, the ground beneath my feet. For a fleeting moment I was a bird, until I came back down to earth, and, like a boulder rolling toward terminal velocity, I accelerated down the hill until skidding a stop on one of the asphalt pathways that traverse the hill. What a rush, what a pain. Thank you adrenaline and brother cocktail hour.

While many of you have experienced similar thrills of tobogganing down the old slope when it’s padded by soft winter snow, few, I imagine, have ever dared to strip down and go green. But I promise: try it, you’ll like it.

In fact, not much — maybe jumping off lovers leap in the gorge or the bridge at Beebe Lake — compares to the fun that is Libe Slope slip-n-sliding at dawn. Ironically enough, Friday’s fall fling was my first time going down the hill, and it may just be the best I ever have, winter time or otherwise.

It all started when five troopers and I found ourselves in the foyer of our house, rain-soaked, anxious, and inebriated just before sunrise Friday morning.

“What now,” one asked after an exhausting night of rampant debauchery.

“It’s raining, and you know what that makes,” another offered. “Mud.”

“So what,” another asked.

“So … sledding … no wait: sliding!”


And so it was. Shirtless, shoeless, and pantless, we trudged up the grade. The way up seemed steep; looking down, even steeper. And from just outside the bomb-bunker of Uris Library, its just plain scary.

“Looks like a lot of rocks in there,” said one in the cadre.

“Yeah, and that drain pipe over there. Watch out for that,” came another admonishment.

But no one could wimp out: we were on a mission from Skyy.

And so, we went, all at once — a five-man, rump busting, leap of faith.

“Ready? One. Two. Threeeeeee …”

The Doppler affect noticeably waned our voices as we plummeted ever further down the hill on our rears. Some of us went farther than others. I stopped quickly, my heavy bum digging more deeply into the dirt than the more slender sliders, who made it nearly twice as far. One — a varsity athlete, ironically enough — made it the farthest, though I wouldn’t exactly call his feat a winning effort — he definitely lost big time, gouging his back a particularly rough piece of pavement.

Accustomed to fighting through physical pain from his experience in college competition, however, he shrugged off the bleeding wound and marched again to the top of the mound ready for more. No pain, no gain, right?

Again and again, we hit the slope, deriving nothing shy of pure enjoyment from this new twist on an old game. But as the sun rose in the East, shedding light on West Campus and Cayuga Lake, we paused to admire the surroundings. Covered in grass clippings and mud, some of us bleeding from scrapes, we looked out, inspired by the view.

Then CUPD showed up. Apparently we’d left a few skid marks in the grass. Plus we didn’t have much clothing on. No big deal though: Officer Stickel was pretty lenient, asking simply for our names, so he could tell the grounds department whom to contact when it came time to re-seed.

Small price to pay for a great night of play.

Everett Hullverson is a Sun Assistant Sports Editor Chew on This will appear every other Friday this semester.

Archived article by Everett Hullverson