On the night of August 10, 2009 two men stepped onto the basketball court at the “Funhouse”. In the shadow of the Space Needle, the gritty beer stained concrete lay shimmering from an earlier dose of Seattle summer rain. As the attendance gained momentum, time stood still on the axis of our city’s Basketball legacy. This was the same court that Garry Payton picked up the nickname “The Glove” on. The same concrete where Kurt Cobain beat Eddie Vedder in a wicked game of PIG. The same landmark Shawn Kemp conceived his 7th child on, while Michael Cage cheered him on. And on this past Thursday, history would once again make an appearance. With everything to loose and even more to win, one would rise in triumph and the other would walk away a little less of a man. The competitors: Sir Thomas Gray and Terry Radjaw. The Bet: Whoever wins the 1 on 1 basketball game to 21 shaves the others most prize possession…
The penis.

Just kidding. The second most prize possession: The others Beard.

Both had been growing their beards for years, were extremely attached to them and neither wanted to be humiliated in front of a crowd of the towns finest/drunkest.

“Everyone has the desire to win, but only champions have the desire to prepare”
- Author Unknown

After watching both athletes in warm up, it was obvious neither was a champion. Both men cigarette smokers, pot-heads and most likely better at drinking then anything that requires athletic movement, got to know the infamous “Funhouse” rim by missing a couple dozen shots. After observing both players games, it was apparent Radjaw had the advantage from the perimeter, but T-Mo was black. It was gonna be a close one.

I had the life changing opportunity of reffing the game, and I must admit I had butterflys. Although I was instructed to “not call anything” and told “we’ll handle all the fouls, just don’t fuck it up” I still had to look like a ref. But unlike the two competitors, I came prepared.

After riling up the crowd the only way I know how (screaming at them, while pretending to be housed) the energy was at it’s greatest potential. You could feel the pulsating fear coming from the players and those that loved their beards, as Thomas took the ball out. After 10 minutes the score was tied at 2, and the crowd was clenching their perineum (http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Perineum) with every dribble. At this pace we were on schedule for a 3 ½ hour game to 21, until something happened…Radjaw got on fire.

Before Champagne Champagne fans knew what hit em’ the score was 8-2 and turning into a blow out. At 9-3 the South Ender Gray looked like he needed a Parliament Light and a nap, as the rowdy OSF boys taunted his weathered body. “Raaaaaadddjaaaaawww” they screamed, similar to the “Maaaaaadd Raaaaaddd” chant that has lit up practically every venue in Seattle. T-Gray wasn’t looking good, and his soaked “Skyway” t-shirt had definitely seen better days.

“You were made to soar, to crash to earth, then to rise and soar again.”
- Alfred Wainwright

Every piece of history needs a conflict. A predicament. A time in the event, where adversity is so thick one is practically paralyzed by the threat of defeat. At this exact point in time, most men give up. They fall victim to the fear that strangles their thoughts, and suffocates any gasp of hope before it turns into a breath. It is this moment that separates the average and the champion.

As Thomas Gray desperately flailed his body into a rebound, the winds of strength swept up his saggy self, in an epic turning of the tides…He started making lay ups. And 4 foot fade-a-ways. And he kept making them. 6 to be exact. What seemed to be the score of his demise at 9-3, quickly turned into 9-9 and the crowd was going spastic with every basket.

With a couple time-outs, some water breaks and the wrangling of a stray dog up off the court, the game resumed. The score teeter-tottered back and forth on the slippery floor of fate to favor Radjaw at 15-13. By now, the sun was a thing at the past, and the only illumination was coming from a solemn street lamp and the flash of dozens of camera’s capturing the battle.

At 18-18 both players resorted in what athletes do when they want to win, but are too tired to actually do so…they foul. And they were calling them on one another. What started out as a “no blood/no foul” rule, manifested into exhausted ethics of physical sensitivity. It was anyone’s game, and calling a foul might be the difference between keeping the mane or waking up looking 7 years younger and awkward to the trained eye. But what was on the line was bigger then a beard. These two men’s identity’s were being hurled aimlessly into the night with every basket shot. No stray dogs could interrupt this energy of testosterone-induced brilliance. Someone had to loose.

“If not you, who? If not now, when?”
- Garry Herbert

As T-Gray checked the ball, the anxiety of the surrounding mob was overbearing. Fans of both players held hands, prayed and drowned out the monorail overhead with screams of encouragement towards their favorite bearded warrior. Thomas, staying in his comfort zone, drove the lane and made a variation of the dying mans lay up. The spectators erupted. After a delayed check Thomas took it to the rack, this time driving right. Not fooling anybody with his speed, Radjaw greeted him with a hefty stomach and stopped him dead in his journey towards freedom. With a couple double dribbles, possibly a blocked shot and a foul or two, Gray summoned his inner hooper and threw up a 4 footer. With the grace of god playing favorites, the ball swindled the hoop, manipulated gravity and somehow fell into the basket. 20-18.

Could it be? Would the underdog Gray take the victory away from the favored slower Steve Nash of Seattle? Was the Cinderella story that we missed during this years NCAA tournament unfolding before our eyes? Check ball.

With the crowd literally jumping up and down, T-mo took his sweet time dribbling. Careful not to get picked off and robbed of his chance for greatness, he started in on his favored left side. Posting up Radjaw, Gray lost his dribble and without a second thought, spun around, got a distant look at the hoop and chucked up a 6 footer. As the ball coasted through the air, Radjaw turned in a fear stricken panic. What looked to be a heavy handed shot too far left, somehow got a hold of the rim, circled around it, said hello to the backboard and eventually found it’s way into the bottom of the net. VICTORY! Final score: Gray 21, Radjaw 18.

“Perfection is not attainable, but if we chase perfection we can catch excellence.”
-Vince Lombardi

What happened next is better left untold. When a man looses something he loves, it’s better to let that memory go. But I imagine when the monorail flies by there’s still fragments of Terry Radjaw’s red beard being blown around that court. Maybe the hair has made its way into the street, or possibly the McDonalads parking lot. Maybe a Mad Rad fan picked up an chunk, stuffed it into the their pocket and plans on making a dredy key chain out of it. Wherever that hair is, it’s none of my business. But what I know is a man lost something that night. Something, no amount of hair can get back. And what Thomas Gray walked away with, no clippers can penetrate. Sure, you can always grow another beard and I sincerely wish Radjaw the best if that’s his intention. But what was lost is gone. It’s the end of an era. And with this new era history has presented us, a champion emerges. His name: Sir Thomas Gray. 2009 Beard/Off Champion.

“Success isn’t permanent and failure isn’t fatal” – Mike Ditka

Pictures taken from Blush Photo and Rabid Child. PROPS! Don’t sue me.