The Memory Box
It's actually a bag, but box sounded better.
Over the last month or so, my parents have been in the process of moving further inland after spending over a decade on the salty shores of Hampton, New Hampshire. My siblings sort of forced their hand by siring two children in the past four years while I whittled away my existence in a one-bedroom apartment appropriate for my station in life as a JV coach and Varsity assistant lacrosse coach.
In the process of this move, I have uncovered many treasures long thought lost. Some were in dusty plastic bins (like VHS tapes of my high school games), others squirreled away in a ragged nightstand in their attic (like my final game ball from college).
I shared the first discovery a few weeks ago on Twitter (if you call it “X”, I probably know who you’re voting for and how many guns you have) here.
I’ve dialed back my social media in the last few years so I was shocked to see how many people reacted to the magazine story as I mashed it into my phone whilst sitting at my parents’ kitchen island.
Shortly after I posted that, my dad brought up an artifact long thought lost.
My old lacrosse bag from Clark University.
I know what you’re thinking.
“Ew, how old and smelly is that bag?”
Judgy, and also incorrect. The bag was not full of old smelly lax gear, but was packed full of treasure and poor financial decisions.
Let’s start with the bag itself. It’s actually not the bag I used in college because that was stolen out of the back of my truck my junior year. The replacement bag I was given had the number “1” on it because it was an extra and no one dared to wear No. 1 at Clark. It would be like signing your death warrant on the field back then.
No, this bag was a replacement that I was gifted after bugging the current head coach at Clark - and my former captain - Jeff Cohen at an alumni event roughly nine years ago. The bag is so big that you could zip an entire freshman into it to this day. I loved it. I still love it. Dusty and moth eaten it stands as my second favorite bag I’ve ever received.
My favorite bag was inside the Clark bag. Bag-ception. It’s a smaller canvas bag that was given to me when I played for St. Michael’s College.
It looks like it’s from the 90’s because, well, it is. 1999, but still the 90’s. I played in the fall there after my PG year at Tilton Prep. Then I got hurt playing pick-up basketball back home and ended up transferring to Clark after the doctor at UVm told me I would never play lacrosse again.
He was wrong. Don’t trust doctors from Vermont.
There were also a number of jerseys in the bag from my days as a boxla player, including my Team Harrow jersey from the Warriors Cup, and my Philly Rage jersey from the FANN Cup.
The Warrior’s Cup remains the most competitive tournament I have ever played in. I played transition and had no idea what I was doing, but back then I was at my fastest, so I didn’t get bundled nearly as much as I should have/do now. The one time I did get hit, one of my teammates went out and fought the guy that laid me out. He got his nose broken and his face bloodied and I still don’t understand why, but after the game he just smiled and asked me to buy him a beer. Box Lacrosse is awesome. And Dangerous. But also awesome.
The FANN cup was a lot weirder. You see, the FANN cup was put on as a sort of charity benefit for NLL fans who came to play in a tournament where each squad entered was allied with an NLL team. I somehow ended up on the Philly team and didn’t realize what an open tournament with no restrictions would look like.
It was a disaster. You had actual college and junior-level players playing alongside the parents of young fans, and also those young fans themselves. But it was box lacrosse. Like REAL box. So one shift you would be getting stuffed into the bench by an ex-pro, and on the next shift you’re guarding a nine-year-old. Due to this being in my “try-hard” era, I played the exact same speed against everyone.
I wasn’t kicked out of the tournament, but after I bizzed a kid in the hand with a long wind up in front of the net, I was told to stop shooting and just run the ball back and forth. Thankfully, this tournament no longer exists. But the jersey is fire.
Let us close this out with my most serendipitous pieces of personal memorabilia. Do you recall when I said there were bad financial decisions in the bag? Well…
That is a game worn and signed Eric Law MLL All-Star jersey from 2014. That year the MLL played against Team USA at Harvard Stadium before the 2014 World Games. (Old heads will know that this is the US team that lost to Canada in the Gold Medal game, 8-5.)
But this jersey - this jersey was worn by MLL players who were NOT selected to play on that USA team or were Canadian. And they played pissed off. It was cackle-inducing awesome. Team USA still won, 10-9, but that game…that game really left an impression on me. I knew that USA team could be beaten after watching them struggle against the rest of the MLL led by Joe Walters, Matt Danowski, and Tom Schreiber? (Yes, there was a time when Tommy Schreibs was not shredding dudes like they were made of boiled chicken. He just casually diced them.)
So I wanted to commemorate the occasion by bidding on a jersey. The only problem was that I had no money to do that. I was in my first year as a “full-time” lacrosse writer and I was scraping by after paying off some debt I had incurred as a truly destitute D-3 college coach for the last decade. I didn’t have the 200 dollars for a starting bid on any of the USA jerseys. But I went through and tried to game the system by waiting to see which jerseys were below the USA ones.
I always liked Eric Law. I had interviewed him a few times before that game and he was very cordial. His jersey just so happened to be the lowest cost since he wasn’t as popular of a player back then. Off-ball ghosts are rarely recognized as the genius that they are in their era. So, I placed a starter bid with my PayPal, closed my laptop, and was like “Hunh, wouldn't it be funny if I won that?” Never thinking I would.
I won. I found out I won as I was pumping gas and my card was declined. Luckily, I had cash to get a few gallons and raced home to see why I didn’t have any money. A few weeks later, the jersey showed up on my doorstep and I never even unwrapped it. I threw it in the back of my closet and thought it would stay there forever.
Until now.
So, hey - Eric Law. My dude. If you want this jersey, I’m happy to give it to you.
Thanks for being one of my favorite players.
And [briefly] placing me into financial ruin.
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