To say that McGill has helped shape many of the sports we know and love today would be the understatement of the century. From popularizing American football in the late 1800s to forming the first organized ice hockey team in the world, to inventing the game of basketball, McGill has served as a veritable think-tank for athletics over the years. And, it would seem, the school that James built isn’t finished quite yet.

Frosh Week tends to catalyze a variety of ideas – some good, most bad – and McGill’s newest sporting innovation is proud to claim lower field as its place of origin.

“It was literally crazy,” said Lauren Tisdale, a U1 education student and Frosh leader. “We had this big beach ball, and it was getting thrown around … and then the beach ball sort of turned into a bunch of stuff that was just getting thrown around. Literally, people were screaming.”

Screaming, but in the best way possible. The flying beach balls, shoes and beer bottles on a hot August afternoon laid the groundwork for the most intoxicating sports phenomenon since Michael Phelps: anarchist dodgeball.

“It’s definitely taken the sports world by surprise,” Tisdale said. “For a lot of people, it provides a sort of stress outlet. Seriously, after listening to those fucking chants from morning to night, I needed an outlet. I needed to throw things. At people. [Anarchist dodgeball] allows me to express myself in a non-competitive, non-athletic way.”

Perhaps the most important part of the game is its strict lack of guidelines. Influenced heavily by the critically acclaimed feature film Dodgeball, the tenets of anarchist dodgeball are simple: the only rule is that there are no rules. For players tired of the competitiveness, fitness, and talent required for many sports, anarchist dodgeball offers a welcome reprieve.

“Whether you’re aware of it or not, there is a large percentage of people [at McGill] who thoroughly detest sports,” said Alana Friedman, U3 philosophy. “I never appreciated getting yelled at as a kid for kicking the ball in my own goal. I couldn’t stand everyone’s tone of voice. It just made me uncomfortable.”

Thankfully, Friedman hasn’t yet had to deal with any yelling or condescension, primarily because stealth is a necessary component of her new favourite pastime.

“Last night, a monkey wrench flew through my window and hit me in the face,” she said. “But I’m fine with that, I have health insurance. Besides, it’s all part of the game.”

One of the reasons for anarchist dodgeball’s success has been the way in which it lends itself to adaptation. Because no one can tell when the game is in progress and when it is not, many groups and individuals have used it to their advantage. Some of McGill’s varsity sports teams, for instance, have applied anarchist dodgeball tactics with great success throughout their respective sports seasons. Teams that hadn’t won a single game in years were able to break into the win column by simply throwing debris at the opposition until they were forced to quit.

Sach Mewburgh, a recently elected student official, has been elated by the publicity that anarchist dodgeball has generated.

“I think first and foremost, it’s great,” he said. “Sustainability and accessibility, along with community, are key … I really expect this game to take McGill to even greater heights.”

But not everyone from the school’s student body has been quick to jump on the anarchist bandwagon. Mack Chester, a U5 English literature student, expressed concern that the sport may have a negative effect on the student experience at McGill.

“I know that the point is that there is no point,” Chester said. “But for some people, that’s not good enough. I want to know why someone is hiding in the bushes outside my door waiting to chuck a two-by-four at me. If this continues, I’m not going to be able to take a seventh year of undergrad.”

The dissenters are few in number, however, and the majority of students and staff are ready to build up the school’s already impressive athletic reputation. Anarchist dodgeball takes place everyday, everywhere. There are no teams and no rules, so pick up the closest moveable object and start throwing.

After a year that included a few wins, the McGill football team is confident that it won’t disappoint fans next year by being mediocre. The team plans to continue their losing streak, extending it to as many as three years. Star running back Alexander Hamilton will not be returning, which will help the Redmen get a fresh start on losing.

“When they finally won, I just felt like it wasn’t fun anymore,” said Red Thunder member Jake Johnson. “We were out there to cheer them on when no one else would. Now everyone is encouraging them. It’s just not the same.”

Many fans have complained that the Redmen’s relative success this year has made games inconvenient. Beer prices and noise levels have risen at Molson Stadium.

“We’d rather be known for losing than for being a mediocre team,” explained an assistant coach.

The Redmen haven’t trained since their last game in November, nor do they plan to get back on the football field until absolutely necessary.

The Redmen plan to use the extra Level I funding to pay for a training camp, where they will learn to unlearn their football skills.

“One of our players was on the Quidditch team this past year, and it really messed up the plays,” explained a coach. “He forgot how to run without a broom, and couldn’t throw a football properly anymore.”

Head Coach Cloudy Fox took this opportunity to arrange a Quidditch training camp this summer, where attendance is mandatory. While the McGill football team is known for having broom experience, many players are unfamiliar with the magical Harry Potter game, and are looking forward to the change of pace.

“Ultimately, I joined the McGill football team to have fun and get away from school,” explained quarterback John Wesley. “I really didn’t want to put any effort into it, and the pressure of winning was just too much. Quidditch will be a way to help us return to the elementary-school flag football we love to play.”

U1 biology student Lincoln Duncan is currently on track to fail four out of his five courses during the 2010 winter semester, meaning he will only earn three credits this semester instead of the expected 15. In an unexpected announcement, Duncan has blamed the economy for his poor performance.

“With this economy, how can you expect anything else?” asked Duncan. “I have to pay for books, pay for groceries, pay for escorts, and so on. How can they expect me to pay attention in class?”

Duncan has argued that the financial downturn of the past several months has forced him to cut back on most of his expenses. One of the first things to be cut in his budget was the amount of attention he could afford to pay in class.

“I need to survive, so I need food and shelter,” said Duncan. “I get lonely, so I need my escorts. What I don’t need is the nonsense that all the attention is costing me in class.”

“I understand that my grades are suffering, but I’m only just breaking even with my expenses at the end of the month, so I don’t know what other options I have. And yes, I can guarantee you that I need the escorts.”

Senior economics professor John Carlstein explained that he has seen this kind of problem affect many students in the past.

“Whenever there’s a serious economic downturn, choices have to be made,” he said. “Most students don’t have an income and therefore must be crafty with their finances. To be honest, I’m impressed by Mr. Duncan’s initiative.”

Duncan admitted that he doesn’t actually spend any money when he pays attention in class, but argued, “It’s the principle that counts.

“When I sit down to go over my finances at the end of the month, I have to consider everything I’ve paid for, whether tangible or not. It would be irresponsible not to account for the attention I’ve been paying in class. I’m just trying to keep a clean balance book.”

Beside groceries, rent, and pixie sticks, Duncan spends most of his other budgeted money on his escorts. Lana Luvana is one of Duncan’s more frequent escorts.

“He calls me every few days, sometimes to party, sometimes just to talk. A lot of the time, he’ll call me, get a hotel room, and then just cry for a few hours. He usually complains about his early-onset of male pattern baldness.”

Luvana is currently attending night classes at Roy’s Beauty School in Dorval.

“Yeah, I’ve seen this before. It’s too bad ’cause he had nice hair. He showed me pictures from when he was younger, but he’s losing almost all of it. I’d say by 24, he’ll be completely bald.”

Duncan denied any allegations of an onset of male pattern baldness.

“I just want to get by,” said Duncan. “Is that too much to ask?”

Carlstein has recently partnered with Duncan and other professors at McGill to form a task force against the rising cost of attention at McGill.

“Too much attention is being paid here at McGill,” said Carlstein. “How can we say that we are offering a reasonable education if students have to drop out due to the high costs of attention that they are being forced to pay?”