By Abi Simpson
In a world much too serious, sport should be something to enjoy
The playground,
where you could go without a care in the world, make best friends with that
child that you would probably never see again, have the greatest time and then
simply leave and never look back.
This is what
Pete Reed wanted to re-create when he came up with the Alternative Sports and
Games Club in Boscombe, formerly known as the Silly Army, but this time it
would be an adult’s only affair.
The original
name for the club, ‘The Silly Army’, was dropped when people started assuming
the club was associated with the real army, this couldn’t be further from the
truth. Reed said “The word silly put
some people off as well, they suffer from being too grown up.” The club isn’t “Childish, more childlike.”
I walked quickly
from the bus into the shelter of Springbourne Library’s reception, to escape
the cold evening air. The smell of old books immediately hit me in the
face. I saw a man, who I hoped to be
Reed, unstacking a substantial pile of various board games in a room off to the
side of the hall. Quite short, a little
rotund with a full beard and messy brown hair, he certainly wasn’t your
stereotypical sportsman, but that’s the point.
“I absolutely
hate sports”. This was definitely not the answer I was expecting
from the man who set up a sporting charity 9 years ago. Reed paused to drill a screw into the games
cupboard in an attempt to put up a new shelf.
“People take
life way too seriously, especially sport.
I went to a five-a-side club briefly and they want to fight each other
all the time, it’s all very aggressive.
Too serious” he said. “I wanted
to have a club where you can come if you are completely unfit or even just a
bit shy.” “A bit fat like me” he said,
grabbing his belly and jiggling it up and down in much the same way as Santa
Clause.
Monkey toss,
space hopper polo and crumbs and crows are among the sports invented by the
club. Yes, that’s right, they don’t seem like your traditional sports. What
happened to a good game of tennis or a little football? But where do the ideas
come from? “Several were stolen from the
pursuits club. Several from when I did
work at a children’s charity. They’re
children’s games, which children can get quite easily but you try explaining
them to grown-ups. We had to dumb them
down for adults.”
“Members suggest
a game and we do it, we make the actual equipment for the game as well.” A double sized volleyball net was among the
plethora of weird and wonderful equipment commissioned for, or made by club
members themselves.
Reed worked for
12 months with a children’s charity Adventure Unlimited, in Brighton. “We just
played games a lot of the time, it was such a laugh. “I was on benefits years ago”, the Government
used “to take sponges off the benefit system and get them to do a year’s work for
nothing, and it was brilliant, it was such a good fun thing.” And that’s where “I got a lot of my ideas
from.”
Talk turned to
elves, wizards and giants with Reed attempting to teach me how to play one of
the most popular games at the club. It is essentially a fantasy themed rock, paper, and
scissors. How hard could this really be? The rules were quite simple, but it involved a little more action than the classic hand
movements usually attributed to the game. Wizards wave their arms frantically around whilst the giants stomp on the poor little elves. It’s fair to say, anyone who dared to even
walk into the room at this very moment, would have assumed that we were a
little crazy. But nevertheless, after
fits of laughter it was clear to see why adults want to partake in sporting
activities like these.
We both got carried
away talking about a variety of different games played as children, each
offering our own version of the rules.
Reed had finished putting up the shelf which was almost straight, and began
stacking the games back into the cupboard ready for the evening ahead. Quidditch, Reed said was one game that the
club had failed at, joking that they hadn’t been able to overcome the flying
issues. When it was suggested that you
could just run around with a broomstick and wearing a cape, his simple reaction
was, “I salute the stupidity.”