Top Ten Albums That Defined My College Experience

This weekend, I made my first return to Brown University's campus since graduating for my five-year reunion. Reunions are funny in that they are in a way a reversal of college itself: college is all about looking ahead and building a path to the future you see for yourself, but reunions are for catching up on where adulthood has taken everybody and reminiscing on years gone by. While revisiting old haunts like the Blue Room and Thayer Street and, of course, WBRU, I was flooded with memories not only of friends, but of the music that accompanied my final years in academia. This, combined with the reminder (and shame) provided by my visit that I haven't written in quite a while, has spurred me to whip up a list of the ten albums that most prominently defined my college experience. These aren't necessarily the ten albums I enjoyed most during my time at Brown - though they're all fantastic in my book - but rather the ones that I most associate with that time, ones that connect deeply with where I was at those points in my life. I would also love to see your own lists, so please feel free to share which albums tell your college stories too.

10. Girlpool - Powerplant (2017)

Girlpool were an underrated indie rock mainstay throughout my college years. Their breakout debut record, Before the World Was Big, came out in June 2015, just a few months before I arrived in Providence for first-year orientation. Their third record, the denser What Chaos Is Imaginary, similarly dropped just months before my May 2019 graduation. However, it's actually their second record, 2017's Powerplant, that I've chosen here. A fitting midpoint, Powerplant features the DIY aesthetic and charming harmonies of Girlpool's first record while hinting at the darker, shoegaze-tinged sounds that would become prominent later in their career. The somber, muted "It Gets More Blue" is contrasted by the youthful opener "123" and the punchy, XO-era Elliott Smith-flavored title track. Powerplant simply feels like college record, raw and free and wondering where in the world it'll end up. 

Girlpool released one final record, 2022's largely overlooked and somewhat underwhelming Forgiveness, before breaking up that same year. Girlpool's heyday almost perfectly aligns with when I was at Brown, and that helps make them one of the quintessential bands of that time in my life.

9.  Jamie xx - In Colour (2015)

It seems every college campus has a few universal party anthems that pop up no matter the host or occasion. For me, the first that comes to mind outside of the extremely obvious - talking about you, "Mr. Brightside" - is "I Know There's Gonna Be (Good Times)," from Young Thug, Popcaan, and indie-popper-turned-rave-leader Jamie xx. The fourth single from xx's debut solo album In Colour, "Good Times" is a brightly-lit club romp, combining bouncing percussion and a Persuasions-sampling chorus with Young Thug's remarkably explicit and infinitely addictive verses. It's jubilant atmosphere, along with its reputation as a critic-approved banger, made it a popular choice in crowded dorm rooms across College Hill.

In Colour's impact on my college years isn't limited to its most explosive track, either. If "Good Times" was the middle of the dance-floor, the Romy-assisted "Loud Places" was the quiet corner of the room that let me know it was OK to not feel at home at every party. "Gosh" is a slow-building epic that kicks off the whole record, while "Sleep Sound" and "SeeSaw" are its jittery neighbors; all three were cornerstones of my study playlists. Plus, as someone who mainly listened to capital-R Rock music in high school, In Colour was the first electronic record I truly loved, and opened the door to many other artists I discovered in its wake.

8. Jay Som - Everybody Works (2017)

"Try to make ends meet / Penny pinch til I'm dying / Everybody works." So reads the chorus to the title track of Jay Som's sophomore studio album. Released when she was 23 years old, it makes sense that Jay Som's lyrics on Everybody Works would reflect the concerns of young adults stepping out into the world at that time. Even at a prestigious university like Brown, which (for better or worse) draws added attention when mentioned on a resume or job application, students are anxious about finding a career that can support them financially without completely draining their passions and happiness. Coming from a middle-class family and having a skillset - writing - that didn't provide a clear path to lucrative employment, these worries certainly applied to me, which I think is why Everybody Works resonates still to this day. 

Also, much like Powerplant, Everybody Works is filled with the type of music that just hits best when you're in college. It's full-on coffeeshop-core, with perky indie rock gems like "Baybee" and 'The Bus Song," along with more introspective numbers like the drawn-out closer "For Light." It sounds like leather-bound notebooks and meal credits and university-branded sweatshirts. I played this one pretty much nonstop during my late sophomore and early junior years, and putting it on now brings me right back to those days.

7. Grimes - Art Angels (2015)

Before diving completely off the deep end into her correlating obsessions with AI and Elon Musk, Grimes put out Art Angels, her innovative magnum opus that seemed to foretell a future of weirdo art-pop crossing into the mainstream. It's an electric and eccentric record, marked by highlights covering ground all the way from a friendship falling apart ("Flesh Without Blood") to deforestation ("Butterfly") to Al Pacino as a genderfluid time-traveling vampire ("Kill V. Maim"), drawing from elements of pop-punk, hyperpop, and heavy metal.

Released just two months into my college experience, Art Angels was a staple well beyond my freshman year. It also resulted in what was probably my favorite review I ever wrote for our on-campus music magazine, BSIDE. It's also easy to forget that at the time, Grimes seemed to be perhaps the most exciting and creative force in music, so hearing this record felt like seeing the start of a major shift in the pop culture landscape. While Grimes has undeniably fallen away from that reputation over the past decade, Art Angels remains unassailable.

6. Kendrick Lamar - DAMN. (2017)

According to my Last.fm statistics, this is my most-played album of all time, and by a wide margin. Over half of those plays came in its initial release year, 2017, which tracks well with my memories of spinning it daily throughout the final few weeks of my sophomore year. DAMN. was perhaps my most highly-anticipated record, coming off the back of 2015's masterpiece To Pimp a Butterfly and 2016's compelling Untitled Unmastered. TPAB was the last "big" album of my high school days, and remains my all-time favorite record. Untitled Unmastered and some of Kendrick's other 2016 appearances - particularly his spot on Danny Brown's "Really Doe," Travis Scott's "Goosebumps," and Beyoncé's "Freedom," along with another I'll mention further down this list - only served to whet my appetite for a proper follow-up to TPAB.

DAMN. did not disappoint - leaner and more commercial than TPAB, but still chock full of incredible moments from somebody who was clearly positioning himself as the greatest rapper alive. The beat switch in "DNA." is still probably the best I've ever heard. "YAH." and "PRIDE." stumble along with an effortless charisma, while "FEAR." rides a beat from living legend and personal favorite producer The Alchemist for nearly eight fantastic minutes. Meanwhile, tracks like "ELEMENT." and especially "HUMBLE." made their way into party playlists across campus.

DAMN. doesn't have a particularly emotional or specific connection to my time at Brown, other than being a really excellent album that I listened to more than anything else in my four years there. Sometimes, that's all you need.

5. DIIV - Is the Is Are (2016)

Another one of my all-timers, DIIV's 2016 record Is the Is Are caught me completely off guard. I had liked a few of DIIV's early songs, but had been a much bigger fan of singer Zachary Cole Smith's then-girlfriend, alt-pop starlet Sky Ferreira. This album came out under a haze of rumors about Smith's drug addiction and trips to rehab, along with rumors that the band was on the verge of breaking up. That haze carried over into Is the Is Are's songs, beachy indie rock jams awash in feedback and reverb. From the first listen, this record grabbed me and wouldn't let go. Upbeat earworms like "Out of Mind" and "Loose Ends" were counterbalanced by harrowing dirges like "Mire (Grant's Song)" and closing track "Waste of Breath." Songs like "Dopamine" featured elements of both, combining sunny layers of chiming guitar riffs with bleak lyrics tackling Smith's addiction head-on; "Got so high I finally felt like myself" and "Would you give your 34th year / for a glimpse of heaven now and here" punched you right in the gut.

Upon repeat listens, the cyclical nature of Is the Is Are revealed itself, and in doing so helped me better understand my own struggles with Obsessive-Compulsive Disorder, which I had been formally diagnosed with shortly before finishing high school. While I couldn't relate to the specific experiences Smith was writing about, the themes of being trapped in your own head and trying mightily to resist intrusive thoughts certainly landed. Being in an academic environment where the topic mental health is at the forefront, I was able to better recognize and adjust to my own negative patterns, much like Smith was attempting to do with Is the Is Are.

Today, DIIV are still together and have released two more excellent albums. Smith by all accounts has remained sober for several years, and I am better equipped than ever to handle my OCD. I'd like to think Is the Is Are played a big role in both of our happy endings.

4. CHVRCHES - Every Open Eye (2015)

So far on this list, I've tried to explain how these albums might have characteristics that appeal to college students at-large, justifying their inclusion. With Every Open Eye, however, it's a more explicitly personal connection. Two weeks after its September 2015 release, I was gifted this album on vinyl for my 19th birthday by new friends I had just met upon starting school. It was a special moment for me, one that let me know that these new friendships were the real deal, and would last beyond our four years on campus together. 

On top of that deeper meaning, Every Open Eye is one of the finest synthpop records this side of 2000. The entire album twinkles around Lauren Mayberry's sugar vocals. "Clearest Blue" is the best recreation of a Depeche Mode smash hit since, well, Depeche Mode, while the choruses to songs like "Empty Threat" and "Bury It" will run through your brain for days. Though many prefer this Scottish trio's debut record Bones of What You Believe, Every Open Eye has an intensity and focus that results in, to me, a more streamlined and consistent listen. It's a deeply sentimental album personally, but a fun and energizing collection of music globally.

3. Kanye West - The Life of Pablo (2016)

Kanye West is obviously an extremely controversial figure who has said and done many horrible things. In fact, I personally have not listened to this Kanye record or any other one in several years - the stink of his rampant misogyny, anti-semitism, and Trumpism lingers too heavily to not be a distraction. 

That being said, I can't accurately reflect on the music that defined my college years without mentioning West's 2016 album The Life of Pablo. Its semi-surprise, Tidal-exclusive release on Valentine's Day came right in the middle of my freshman year, and was by my estimate the ultimate peak of the internet-hype album drop craziness at that point. (Lemonade would quickly claim that title two months later.) I so distinctly remember sitting in my freshman dorm room and watching West's performance on Saturday Night Live, only for him to cry out at the end of "Ultralight Beam" something about "KanyeWest.com" and "album streaming right now." Surrounded by my four white cinderblock walls, I, like many others, scrambled to figure out what the hell was going on and how to sign up for a free Tidal subscription before their whole website crashed. 

Once we got our hands on The Life of Pablo, the excitement only grew. A surprise feature from the reclusive pre-Blonde Frank Ocean ("Frank's Track") and starring cameos from ascendant stars like Kendrick Lamar ("No More Parties in L.A.") and Chance the Rapper ("Ultralight Beam") meant the high highs outweighed the lower lows ("Lowlights," "Freestyle 4"). Then, things got murkier. West constantly tinkered with and updated the streaming release of The Life of Pablo, adding and removing elements on what felt like a daily basis. Some songs were decidedly improved, while other changes felt more pointless.

All of this, however, makes The Life Of Pablo a quintessential album of its time, and of my time in college. The surprise release, the internet discourse around it, its role in the history of Tidal and streaming platforms, the post-release adjustments - all of it was so remarkably 2016. In a year that would end in one of the most shocking elections in American history, The Life of Pablo barely registers a blip on the radar when looking back. But for those first few months, Kanye West was all anybody could talk about.

2. Japanese Breakfast - Psychopomp (2016)

Content warning for discussion of grief and death.

Michelle Zauner may be an indie headliner with a successful memoir and corresponding film on the way nowadays, but that wasn't always the case. Before having her full-fledged breakout via her 2020 album Jubilee and 2021 book Crying in H Mart, Zauner had already put out several records under the Japanese Breakfast moniker, one of which was 2016's Psychopomp. I discovered this album one afternoon in one of Brown's various libraries, camped out in a nook procrastinating on an essay that needed to get done. Centered around the passing of her mother two years prior, Psychopomp explores a wide range of emotions through 25 minutes of indie-pop perfection. The mournful lyrics of "In Heaven" are smothered in blissful synthesizers; "Heft" mentions "spending nights by hospital beds" over a cheerily-strummed guitar riff. The album also looks at relationships, with "Everybody Wants to Love You" and "Jane Cum" each use wildly contrasting instrumental moods to pair with lyrics examining sexuality.

When I first heard Psychopomp, the elements of grieving landed with me only in an abstract, outside-looking-in kind of way. I had been very fortunate in that, at that point in my life, I had not had to confront death very often. I had lost a few family members, including my grandmother, but all had lived long, fulfilling, happy lives, so their losses felt like sad but expected goodbyes - I had closure and was able to process everything as it was happening.

Then, over the summer between my sophomore and junior years, a good friend of mine from Brown passed away. I found out through a campus-wide email from a college dean and was devastated, as were many of my friends. As I worked my way through a new kind of grieving process, one where I was isolated from my college community (as we hadn't yet returned for the fall semester) and had more questions than answers, Psychopomp was a sympathetic comfort listen. It's full emotional impact suddenly came into focus, and I felt understood by its multifaceted take on tragedy. When the loss of a loved one is steeped in confusion, it's natural to seek out something that can make sense of it all - for me, that was Psychopomp. 

Of course, even seven years later, Psychopomp still reminds me of the sadness of my friend's passing. However, it also reminds me of my happy memories of them - of why I cared so deeply in the first place. Grief is preambled by love, and that's the statement Psychopomp is making, and for a very specific and impactful moment in my life, it was the message I needed to hear.

1. Carly Rae Jepsen - Emotion (2015)

I mean, are you really surprised? It was my damn thesis.

Anyone who knew me in college probably knows how much I care about Carly Rae Jepsen's internet-breaking, enigmatically underrated 2015 record Emotion. I, like so many other others who write about music, have plenty to say about this album - so much so, in fact, that I made it the subject of my senior thesis and thus the longest and most labor-intensive writing project I've ever done. I wrote about its release strategy, its collection of high-quality 80's-influenced pop bops, its status as a cult classic amongst people who would hardly call themselves fans of the genre. I could go on and on (and did) about the majesty of "Run Away From Me," the playfulness of "Boy Problems," and the sultry smoothness of "All That," but I've been there, done that. If you're really interested in going down that route, you can check out a copy of my thesis from the Brown University Library System, where it lives alongside all other English undergraduate theses - provided you have a university login that grants you access, which I ironically do not. (Or, you could just email me, and I'd be happy to send you a link to Google Drive.)

Instead, I want to focus this post on Emotion's personal impact on my college days and the overall trajectory of my life. (Dramatic, I know, but bear with me here.) 

Like I said earlier, in high school I was pretty much a rock-only listener. I was also deeply closeted. Those two facts might seem separate - and at the time I thought they were - but looking back I can now see that my penchant for heavier music and avoidance of anything pop was tied to a fear of being perceived as feminine in any way. I couldn't possibly risk tipping off the other students in my close-knit, all-boys school that I was all that different than everybody else, let alone the (presumably) only gay person in the entire class. So I buried myself. I squashed any personality trait, consciously and subconsciously, that I thought would be perceived as gay. I devoted myself to Foo Fighters and Rise Against and Red Hot Chili Peppers - all bands I still enjoy, it should be said - and guilted myself out of listening to the likes of Lady Gaga, reacting with immediate revulsion to pop sensibilities. If you need proof, look at this very blog's Album of the Year 2013 posts, where the closest I get to full-on poptimistic are the blog-approved HAIM and Lorde albums sitting at #11 and #12 respectively.

College was supposed to be different - and in the end, it was, though it took longer to get there than I realized. I went into Brown planning on being "out" from day one. But, as any number of queer people can attest to, there are stages to coming out. For me, having people know I was gay was the first step, but allowing myself to be gay - in other words, to express myself how I wanted and not how I felt I needed to in order to create a specific external image - was much harder. I even joked to people that I was "the straightest gay guy you'll ever meet." While at Brown I didn't feel the need to instinctively pull away from "gay" music, I also wasn't actively seeking it out; I had been so deep in the closet that I didn't even realize I had shut out an entire world of music, and that door hadn't magically opened the day I stepped onto campus and opened the closet up.

Even when Emotion was getting tons of blog buzz in 2015, I hardly paid it any mind; I listened to a few tracks to see what was causing all the hubbub, but nothing resonated. Then, as I spent more time in Brown's queer-friendly social environment and slowly came more and more out of my shell, Emotion started to click. The wondrous pop melodies and effervescent instrumentals that now rattle around my brain constantly finally stood out. Throughout my sophomore year, I listened again and again, each time feeling more and more in touch with who I was inside and how I no longer had to be afraid of music that was associated with gay culture.

My ever-growing love for Emotion kicked off an avalanche of unabashed pop consumption, a wave of music in my Spotify playlists from new era gay icons like Charli XCX and SOPHIE, or even LGBTQ-flavored indie acts like Perfume Genius or (pre-scandal) PWR BTTM. It changed my taste in music forever, but even more than that, it correlated with finally letting go of who I thought I needed to be and instead embracing who I actually am.

All of this of course culminated in Emotion being the focus of my senior thesis. If you had told me as a precocious first year in September 2015 that I would be advocating for pop music from the "Call Me Maybe" lady to be taken seriously in the academic sphere, I would not have believed you. But if a thesis is supposed to be the exclamation point at the end of your undergraduate experience, the summarization of everything you've learned both in and out of the classroom, then Emotion was the obvious choice.

- - -

Check out a playlist below of all of the albums from this top ten, along with some honorable mentions that almost made the cut.

Jamie Vardy: From Carbon Fiber Technician to Golden Boot Contender

Written in Spring 2016 for "Introduction to Creative Nonfiction," taught by Prof. Jon Readey at Brown University 

The Leicester City squad sat in the home side locker room at the King Power Stadium on a bright morning in September 2015. The players were in good spirits, still buoyant after securing the club’s first win since returning to the Premier League with a victory over Stoke the previous weekend. Still, a sense of caution lingered in the air: Manchester United were not a team you took lightly, after all. Team manager Nigel Pearson, an imposing man who rarely smiled, stands 6’1”, and boasts a widow’s peak unparalleled within British sports, walked in and posted the starting lineup for that day’s match. The players quickly huddled around, eager to see if they’d be taking part. Pearson had opted for an aggressive approach, including three forwards in his starting 11, including the last name on the team sheet: number 9, Jamie Vardy. Laser-focused as always, Vardy simply nodded upon seeing that he’d been given his first-ever start in the Premier League at age 27, never showing so much as a grin. A goal, two assists, and two drawn penalties later, he would lead his team to one of the most exciting and surprising come-from-behind upsets in Premier League history. 

The path Vardy followed on his way to that incredible day is one of the most unlikely and inspiring rags-to-riches stories in the history of sport. Born in Sheffield, England in early 1987, Vardy never knew his biological father, who left home shortly after impregnating Vardy’s mother; as a result, he took his stepfather’s last name. His looks and personality reflected his working-class background: a sinewy figure with buggy eyes and short, spiky brown hair, Vardy has always been known for his resounding toughness on and off the field (for better or worse). As a teenager, he joined the youth academy system of Sheffield Wednesday, the club he’d grown up supporting, but was released by the club at just age 15. Vardy was so discouraged by his failure that he nearly quit playing soccer for good: “That was the lowest moment for me,” he told The Guardian last year. Eventually, however, Vardy refused to give up on his dream, and he began playing for the youth side of semi-professional club Stocksbridge Park Steels. He spent four years in the development academy before finally making the first team squad in 2007. At this time, Vardy made a measly £30 a week, and he split his time between soccer and working in a factory making medical splints. He also had a brush-up with the law while at Stocksbridge: after being arrested for assault (which he insists was simply him defending a friend), he played for months while wearing an ankle bracelet, and he often had to leave matches early in order to be home in time for his court-mandated curfew. 

Vardy impressed many with his prolific goal scoring for Stocksbridge, and in 2010 Halifax Town spent a miniscule £800 to bring the then-23-year-old to the club. At this point, he decided to focus full-time on his soccer career, risking a steady income in order to pursue his dream. In his one season with the club, Vardy knocked in 27 goals and earned another move up the ladder of English soccer, this time landing at Fleetwood Town for a reported £150,000 – almost 200 times as much as his transfer to Halifax had cost. His new team played in the fifth division, one step below the professional tier. With Fleetwood, he scored 31 goals in 34 league matches, an exceptional rate for a player at any level. 

In addition to his beyond impressive goal tallies, Vardy received praise for his particular playing style. Possessing excellent natural speed and acceleration, at any moment he could burst beyond opposing center-backs and latch onto a ball played through a gap in the defense. He could also receive the ball short and dribble through defenders if necessary. Once he worked his way into an opening behind the defense, Vardy’s precise shooting practically guaranteed a goal. His time in the lower leagues gave Vardy a toughness and physicality to his game that many top-level players lacked, especially fellow strikers. Despite standing at an unremarkable 5’10”, he jumped quite well and fought hard to win headers in the air. Mentally, Vardy displayed the kind of determination and work ethic that managers cherish. Moreover, his immense stamina enabled him to hustle for the full 90 minutes of a match without wearing out. All in all, it made for a formidable striker, and Vardy was proving to be one with his goal scoring. He’d been overlooked by clubs so long due to a combination of his size and pure bad luck, a mistake that dozens of scouts will now be cursing themselves over. 

At this point, Vardy was grabbing the attention of the coaches and scouts throughout much of England that had ignored him for so long previously. He had carried Fleetwood Town into the fourth division of English soccer – the bottom tier of the professional Football League - for the first time in the club’s history. Vardy was now a professional for the first time in his career, and it was about to get even more exciting for him. Fleetwood received several offers for Vardy’s services, and it eventually accepted an astounding offer of £1 million pounds from Leicester City in 2012, at that point the most ever paid for a non-League player. Now 25 – not old by any means, but still notable considering most players sign professional contracts upon turning 18 if not earlier - Vardy prepared for his first season in professional-level soccer. 

The move signaled a massive leap for Vardy: at the time, Leicester competed in the Football League Championship, the second division in England and just one gradation underneath the Premier League – the height of English soccer and arguably the most prestigious and lucrative league in the world. The top two clubs at the end of each Championship season automatically gained promotion to the Premier League, while the teams finishing in places third through sixth competed in a playoff for the coveted third promotion slot. Leicester City were a fairly significant and successful club in English soccer as well, only spending one season outside the nation’s top two divisions, though they’d never won a top-flight title. In the season prior to signing Vardy, the club had finished in a respectable ninth place in the Championship, missing out on a promotion-playoff berth by just a few wins. Not only had Vardy earned a move to a more stable and esteemed club, but he was also reasonably close to achieving every English soccer player’s dream: playing in the Premier League. 

However, Vardy struggled to adapt to the new level of competition the Championship posed right away, and he failed to make a huge impression in his first season with Leicester. During the campaign, he managed just four goals in 26 appearances – a drastic decline from his nearly even goal-game ratio from seasons past – and even received taunts from Leicester fans over social media. He was so discouraged that, for the first time since being cut by his boyhood club Sheffield Wednesday at age 15, Vardy considered quitting the game altogether. Fortunately for both the Foxes and Vardy, however, manager Nigel Pearson’s reassurances convinced him to stick around. “I had a few chats with the gaffer and they constantly told me I was good enough and they believed in me and stuck by me,” Vardy said. “I am glad to be showing the faith they showed in me on the pitch.” 

Despite Vardy’s shortcomings during his Leicester debut campaign, his teammates hoisted the club all the way to sixth place and a spot in the playoff to gain promotion to the Premier League. It had required a goal in added time in the last match of the regular season to secure a victory and thus a spot in the playoff. Once there, they faced third-place finishers Watford in a two-match playoff, with whichever team that scores more across the pair of games advancing to the playoff final at Wembley Stadium. Leicester snatched a 1-0 victory in the home leg, in which Vardy was an unused substitute, meaning they needed a draw or a win to reach the winner-take-all final. 

Vardy was once again on the bench for the away trip to Watford, where he witnessed one of the most dramatic conclusions to a promotion playoff in English soccer history. After 20 minutes the teams had exchanged goals, leaving Leicester on pace for a 2-1 aggregate victory. Shortly after halftime, however, Watford’s Matej Vydra scored his second goal of the match. Now 2-2 on aggregate, the game seemed headed to extra time until Leicester winger Anthony Knockaert drew a penalty in the sixth minute of stoppage time; a goal would send Leicester through to Wembley. Knockaert took the penalty himself, but both his spot-kick and the rebound were saved by Watford goalkeeper Almunia. Watford then stormed down the field in a counter attack, crossed the ball into the box, and scored the playoff-winning goal as Troy Deeney lashed the ball into the net. Leicester had narrowly missed out on a golden opportunity to reach the Premier League. 

This devastating loss seemed to only motivate the Leicester City squad to push on for promotion next season, Jamie Vardy included. He earned a starting birth in 34 league matches, scoring 14 goals and nabbing another four assists. Leicester finished first in the division by a comfortable nine-point margin, with a 17-point gap between them and the playoff places. After 10 years, Leicester had finally returned to the Premier League. Like any promoted club, they approached their new top-flight status with both excitement and trepidation; though the promotion opened up plenty of opportunities for the club, retaining one’s position in the league as a former Championship side – which requires avoiding finishing in the bottom three - proves difficult each and every year. In the summer that preceded the 2014/2015 season, the club purchased a handful of new players to aid their survival battle. Included among them was £8 million striker Leonardo Ulloa, who looked poised to cut into Vardy’s playtime. As Leicester embarked on their first season back in the Premier League, Vardy indeed seemed to be losing out on playtime: he had to wait until the club’s third match for his first career Premier League appearance, coming on as a sub for the final 20 minutes against Arsenal but unable to tilt the 1-1 match in his side’s favor. Still, in just over two seasons, he’d gone from a non-league player to leading the frontline against Arsenal in the Premier League. 

After sending him in as a substitute once more against Stoke, Pearson handed Vardy his first Premier League start against Manchester United. The game started disastrously for Leicester; within 16 minutes, United lead 2-0 and seemed poised to only pile on the misery for Leicester. But then, Vardy got going on what turned out as a match-winning and career-altering performance. Immediately after the second United goal, Vardy pounced on a long pass from kickoff, dribbled into the attacking corner, and whipped in a powerful cross for Leonardo Ulloa to head home. United scored again to take a 3-1 lead just before the hour mark, but Vardy again helped bring Leicester back within one goal: after tenaciously knocking United defender Rafael off the ball, he drew a foul in the box to win a penalty. Teammate David Nugent scored from the spot to make it 3-2. Just two minutes later, Vardy created his third goal of the match, knocking down a driven pass into the path of midfielder Esteban Cambiasso, who smashed the ball into the net to equalize. 

With momentum now on their side, the Leicester players pushed optimistically for a winning goal, and Vardy came up with one in the 79th minute. Displaying his trademark speed and clinical finishing, Vardy took a pass from Richie De Laet into the open field, broke away from the defense, and placed the ball past United goalie David De Gea to put Leicester up 4-3. Vardy stormed towards the corner flag and celebrated with his teammates and the club’s supporters; he had his first Premier League goal, and it had given Leicester a lead against the mighty Manchester United. Incredibly, Vardy still had more to contribute to the match, winning yet another penalty after breaking away once again, with Ulloa scoring the kick to make the score 5-3 in Leicester’s favor. After that match, everybody knew who Jamie Vardy was: the man who’d gone from a non-league semi-professional to almost single-handedly dismantling Manchester United. 

Though now a cult hero among Leicester fans and Cinderella-story lovers everywhere, Vardy’s appearances throughout the rest of his club’s season were a bit scattered. His next goal didn’t come until March, and the team as a whole struggled; after 29 out of 38 matches, they sat at the bottom of the league with just 19 points. Just when it looked like the Championship was beckoning, Leicester went on an astonishing run of form. Match-winning goals from Vardy against West Bromwich Albion and Burnley (the former coming very late in the game) helped bring the Foxes up to 14th place and secure a spot in the Premier League for the next season. Vardy’s performances impressed English national team manager Roy Hodgson so much that he granted Vardy his first match appearances for the national side, adding yet another landmark to the striker’s inspirational career trajectory. 

As they primed for their 2015-2016 sophomore season in the top flight since returning, doubt once again overshadowed Vardy and his teammates. Pearson lost his job despite the previous season’s late heroics due to a broken relationship with the club’s owners. The firing came shortly after a sex-tape featuring three young Leicester players – one of which was Pearson’s son – leaked online. Pearson took much of the blame for failing to control the behavior of his players, who were heard in the tape making racist remarks to Thai prostitutes, which naturally offended the club’s Thai owners. The board replaced Pearson with former Chelsea and Juventus boss Claudio Ranieri, whose most recent job had been coaching Greece’s national side, only to be fired after losing to the lowly Faroe Islands. On top of everything, key midfielder Esteban Cambiasso left the club, moving to Greek club Olympiakos after declining a contract offer from Leicester. Many experts tipped Leicester as major relegation candidates, and nobody gave them a shot of challenging the league’s top teams. Of course, Jamie Vardy has always been one to defy expectations. 

New manager Ranieri set up a Leicester side suited perfectly for Vardy’s play-style: their tactics centered around fighting for the ball, hassling opponents, constantly sprinting throughout the pitch, and breaking on the counter-attack. Paired with new arrival Shinji Okazaki at striker, Vardy flourished under his new manager and started knocking in goals left and right. He scored Leicester’s first goal in a 4-2 win over Sunderland to open the season. A few weeks later, he scored against Bournemouth; goals versus Aston Villa and Stoke City soon followed. A pair of goals over Arsenal and another against Norwich extended his scoring streak to five straight Premier League matches. 

Leicester now occupied fourth position in the league, enough to qualify for the European-wide Champions League, though this early in the season, unexpected teams often start impressively before fizzling out. Shockingly, however, Leicester and Vardy kept improving: after returning from two matches with the England team (coming on as a sub in one and starting the other), Vardy scored twice to help his side tie Southampton. Winning goals against Crystal Palace, West Brom, and Watford – the team that had denied the Foxes promotion two years prior – took his tally to 12 for the season, and he was just one more match away from tying the record for most consecutive games with a goal in Premier League history. Leicester were now equal on points with league leaders Manchester City and Arsenal, and pundits finally began taking them seriously. Fans finally recognized Vardy as one of the league’s hottest players, and his reputation skyrocketed among the media. Vardy scored in his next match, a 3-0 victory over Newcastle, to tie Ruud Van Nistelrooy’s goal-scoring streak record and give Leicester sole possession of first place. 

For the city of Leicester, their home club’s magnificent run in the premier league has been an inspiring and unifying event like no other. The city’s economy is heavily based in production, much like Vardy’s hometown of Sheffield. Less than have of its residents identify as “white British,” and is one of England’s major landing destinations for immigrants. “We’re like a salad bowl. We live side by side. We don’t live together,” said club supporter Riaz Khan, before offering a little more hope for a more unified community: “When Leicester wins [the league], it will unify the entire the city.” Supporters’ chants such as “Vardy’s having a party!” show just how much Vardy has been a part in reigniting passion for the club and togetherness among Leicester citizens. 

Leicester’s next opponent was one with special significance already to Vardy: Manchester United. Van Nistelrooy had set his record with United, and now Vardy aimed to break it against them. He didn’t have to wait long; with less than 25 minutes gone, Vardy jumped on a pass from Christian Fuchs to give Leicester a 1-0 lead, and to give himself a place in the Premier League record books. Being the team player that he is, however, Vardy’s post-game comments focused more on how he wished the team had held on for the win (the match ended 1-1) than on his own personal glory. “[I’m] obviously delighted that I’ve got a goal to take me past Van Nistelrooy, but the boys, I think, are a bit disappointed in the way that we conceded the goal. Who knows?” he said. “On another day, it could’ve been three points.” 

Vardy didn’t score in the next match, ending his streak at 11 consecutive games with a goal, but Leicester still won thanks to a Riyad Mahrez hat-trick. Through the Christmastime period which many analysts thought would knock them, Leicester held firm, losing only one of their five December matches and beating the likes of Everton and defending champions Chelsea. As the calendar turned to 2016, it was the other top clubs that began to fall away, and to everyone’s surprise Leicester emerged from the pack as the most consistent title challenger; after comprehensively beating Manchester City 3-1 on the road on February 6th, odds makers now listed Leicester as the favorites to win the league. In the meantime, Vardy scored goals for England against both Germany and Holland, the former a result of a tricky and incredibly bold back-heel flick that beat Manuel Neuer, universally regarded as the best goalkeeper in the sport. 

As weeks went by, Leicester kept winning, and it eventually became clear that the only team with a chance of stopping them now was another unlikely (albeit not nearly as shocking) table-topper, Tottenham Hotspur. But Leicester’s consistent victories meant there were few opportunities for Tottenham to make up any ground. However, a red card for diving in a 2-2 and his subsequent verbal abuse of the referee draw versus West Ham (in which Leicester claimed a draw with a last-minute penalty kick by Leonardo Ulloa) resulted in Vardy being suspended for two crucial matches in April, with only four games left in the season. If Leicester won both, they would be guaranteed the title, meaning that the man responsible for so much of their success might not even be allowed on the field to celebrate its culmination. Now, it was up to the rest of Leicester’s squad to carry the club to the title. 

Of course, Vardy was not the only one contributing to Leicester’s success, and plenty of talented players were still available in Vardy’s mandatory absence. Due to remarkable consistency and a fortunate lack of injuries, the same group of players made up the match-day squad for the entire season with little variation. There was former French 2nd division player Riyad Mahrez, the fleet-footed Algerian winger who was renowned for his ability to trip up defenders with his tricky dribbles and astounding shooting skills. Central midfielder N’Golo Kante, also coming to Leicester from the French leagues, seemed to cover every blade of grass as he raced around the pitch game after game, making tackles and interceptions as he constantly hassled opponents. Right back Danny Simpson and midfielder Danny Drinkwater were both former Manchester United youth prospects who had been cast off after being deemed not good enough for the club. The defense was anchored by Germany’s Robert Huth and Jamaica’s Wes Morgan, both tactically adept and physically powerful center backs. Morgan was also the club captain. Sitting behind the defense was goalkeeper Kasper Schmeichel, a talented keeper whose father Peter stood in net for Manchester United for almost a decade and is widely regarded as one of the best goalies to ever play the game. 

After a Vardy-less 4-0 win over Swansea, Leicester could clinch the championship with a win against Manchester United at their home fortress, Old Trafford. Vardy watched on as his teammates battled in a hard-fought match, but an early United goal from Anthony Martial limited them to a 1-1 draw, the Leicester goal coming from captain Morgan’s header. Though they hadn’t clinched the title, the point gained from the tie meant that Tottenham needed to beat Chelsea the next day in order to prevent Leicester from winning the league with two games to spare. Vardy hosted a viewing party at his home for his fellow teammates to watch the match, though the mood was far from cheery as Tottenham took a 2-1 lead late into the game. But in the 83rd minute, Chelsea winger Eden Hazard completed a mazy run with a curled finish into the top-right corner of the net, leaving Spurs goalie Hugo Lloris helpless to keep his team in the title hunt. Tottenham failed to reclaim the lead, and Leicester were officially crowned champions of the Premier League. 

Television networks broadcasted scenes of Leicester fans that had congregated in pubs across the city erupting with joy. Vardy and his teammates joined in, as defender Christian Fuchs uploaded a video of the team celebrating wildly at Vardy’s home to Twitter. Fans poured into the city center, a party-like atmosphere consuming the entire city throughout the whole night. The celebration continued at the club’s home match the following weekend, as Andrea Bocelli sang to a packed King Power Stadium before Leicester beat Everton 3-1, courtesy of a pair of goals from Jamie Vardy, and lifted the trophy in the post-game festivities. After the match, a reporter asked Vardy how Leicester had been able to pull it off. Standing with a Premier League champion’s medal around his neck, Vardy credited towards his teammates and manager: “It’s that togetherness we’ve got. We’re all like brothers.” Reportedly over 100,000 fans showed up to the title parade through the streets of Leicester a week later. 

Vardy’s personal accomplishments went heralded as well. He finished joint-second in the league’s top scorer’s charts with 24 goals, one behind Tottenham rival and England teammate Harry Kane and level with £38 million Argentine striker Sergio Aguero. Vardy was named the Footballer of the Year by the Football Writer’s Association, as well as the Premier League Player of the Season. Even more, he’s not only on the England squad for the Euros this summer, but is widely expected to be a regular in the starting lineup throughout the tournament. All of these accolades show just how Vardy has become emblematic of the unpredictability and upward mobility of soccer not just in England but throughout much of the world. Nobody could ever have expected a 25-year-old semi-professional player to lead the Premier League in goals and to take Leicester, despite the odds, to the top of English football.

In the midst of all the excitement and hubbub surrounding him and his team this season, Vardy opened up a training academy for non-league players, where they can receive high-quality coaching and get scouted by top-level clubs. “I know there are players out there in a similar position to where I was, that just need an opportunity,” he explained. “I’ve thought for some time that something could be done about it… we decided to set up V9 [the camp] to unearth talent and give those players a shot – hopefully at earning professional contracts but also to learn and understand what it takes to be a professional at the highest level.” If all goes according to plan, he may just end up discovering the next Jamie Vardy. 

Squashed

Written in spring 2017 for "Sportswriting," taught by Prof. Jon Readey at Brown University People often write about how their sports triumphs taught them an important life lesson – how, through all the hard practices, physical pain, teamwork, and ultimate victories showed them something eye-opening about the world and how they fit into it. These pieces are often heartfelt and inspirational, and claim to demonstrate the true value of athletics in our society. This essay isn’t one of those. Instead, I’ll be taking you on a tour of the corruption, struggles, and general athletic ineptitude that plagued my short-lived basketball career, and how, even through enduring an experience that was pretty all-around horrible, I ended up in a place that, in some small way, helped me survive the perils of high school. * * * * * Recreational basketball in Melrose, Massachusetts during my childhood was a heavily flawed institution. Leagues existed for everyone from first graders to high school freshmen, and everybody played on Saturday, resulting in cramped court space and semi-frequent 8:00 AM a.m. tip-off times. The quality of refereeing was questionable at best, as were the mangy uniforms that got passed down year after year. But by far the most egregious facet was the method in by which the league held team selection drafts. In a typical structure, each coach picks one player per round, sometimes with the drafting order reversed each round to ensure an even more balanced distribution of talent. But that made far too much sense for Melrose Recreational Basketball, no no no. In Melrose, the team that came in first the season previous picked their entire team before anybody else took a single player. The reigning runner-ups would then pick their 12 players, then third place, and so on and so forth. This meant that after the first season, whoever finished first would be able to easily maintain their top spot by retaining their best players and plucking the top talent from other squads as well. It’s like how big tech companies simply buy out any rising competitors, or how the Yankees simply buy out any expensive free agents; the rich get richer, and the upstarts hit a wall. All of this made the very first season of rec basketball – first grade level – the most important, as the final standings that year would premore-determine the pecking order for each subsequent season. As it just so happens, in first grade I wound up on the last-placed team. Which, of course, meant that I wound up on the last-placed team every year. One year we were so bad that I, at the time a five-foot-nothing, sub-100-pound awkward mess who shot 20% from the field on a good day, was named team captain. In my six years of rec basketball, my team won a total of four games. And I remember every single one of them clear as day. Two came in the somewhat-balanced first grade year, before the higher finishers ripped away our two decently good players in the draft. One happened in third grade, when the perpetually-flopping Nate Horne got “injured” with thirty 30 seconds left and us up by one point as the clock operator forgot to stop the timer. Fifth grade brought one more after only three members of the opposing team showed up for the game, and had to play the match with our two worst players on loan filling out their lineup. (Even then, they still outscored us; we only won by a technical forfeit.) Needless to say, by the time my final year of rec basketball – sixth grade – rolled around, I had lost pretty much any hope of playing on a competitive team. And I was right to, too; even with the top-level players leaving rec behind to play middle school ball, my team paled in comparison to every opponent. Game after game went by with us considering a loss by a single-digit margin a success, and a loss by less than 20 points “not that bad.” For some reason, our coach thought having us run sprints all practice would somehow make us score more than 13 points a game, or give up fewer than 35. The consistently soul-crushing nature of my rec basketball career reached its pinnacle with my final game. It served as a microcosm for the entire experience, a fitting conclusion to a hapless era. Knowing this would likely be my final game – finally fed up, I didn’t plan on signing up for another year of this – and I managed to get myself hyped up. I’m gonna give them a performance, I told myself. (Of course, by “performance,” I meant “score more than one basket.”) As I strolled into the gym at 2:52 for our 3:00 start time, the sounds of squeaky shoes echoing throughout and the walls streaked with an aggressively bright red paint, my heart dropped: on the far right side of the gym, I spotted the unmistakable dandelion Tt-shirts my team wore during games; they were already running up and down the court. Unbeknownst to me or my parents, the game had been pushed up to 2:00, but my coach had failed to send out an email. I rushed over to our bench to see that, in a role reversal from our “win” the year previousbefore, this time we were the ones borrowing players from the other team. And the best part? We were only down by one with about twenty 20 seconds left – enough time to snatch a highly-coveted win. Even though it would technically go down in the books as a forfeit for us, the chance to actually outscore another team – even with their own players – seemed magical. But I was missing it. As I got to the bench, my coach looked at me with surpriseI lied to my coach and said I had already warmed up and was ready to go in. “I’m ready, I can go in,” I lied, voice trembling. Coach Morris raised a single eyebrow. “I… I warmed up out in the hall!” (Another lie.) I shouldn’t have been allowed into the game according to the rules, since I hadn’t been there to check in at the start of the quarter, but the opposing coach didn’t care enough to protest. We got the ball back, still down one, with eight seconds left, and coach subbed me in for one of our loanees. Truth be told, my eyes were welling with tears from the knowledge that I had missed pretty much all of what was supposed to be the big finale of my basketball career. But I had one final play to make my mark, and I wanted to take it. The only thing I remember more clearly about my basketball career than my four wins is how the final play of it went. We were inbounding the ball from the sideline in front of our bench, just ahead of the halfcourt line. I stood near the center circle; another player stood at the three-point line, with two underneath the hoop and one inbounding. The other team had elected to leave me free and to cover the areas within actual shooting distance of the hoop via a zone defense. The inbound pass came to me; before I could dribble, the inbounder – a third-grader who had forgotten to sign up for the league in time and was added to our squad because his brother was on the team – ran out uncovered, and I dumped the ball back to him. Almost immediately, he threw up a three-point from the top of the arc. The buzzer rang as the ball was in mid-flight. I clenched my teeth as it approached the basket… and then nothing. He had airballed. Time was up, we had lost in both the technical and literal sense, and my career was over. The sport that had beaten me down more than any other had managed to fit in one more twist of the knife. At this point, all of the childish frustration I had pent up – six years’ worth of anger over a game where you put an orange ball in a basket – over six years of a game where you put an orange ball in a basket released. I collapsed to the floor and wailed in a manner unfitting for a young child, much less the 12-year-old that I was. I sobbed through the post-game handshake and the entire ride home. Despondent in the back seat of my mom’s Ford Freestar, I told myself I was done with basketball forever. As it would turn out, my self-imposed retirement was a bit premature; my ventures into the world of basketball, and the lessons I learned them, weren’t quite finished yet. Or so I thought. * * * * * One month after my final basketball game, I received an acceptance letter to Belmont Hill School. Five months after that, I was walking through the doors for my first day. The all-boys prep school just outside Cambridge, Massachusetts was a new world to me; all of a sudden I was surrounded by wealth, tradition, Vineyard Vines, boat shoes, and a level of academic rigor I had not been exposed to before. Belmont Hill was a school of some notoriety, with a history of consistently sending students to top-level universities and a reputation for strong athletic programs. The grassy campus devoted about half of its acreage to its fields and gymnasium, and the other half to its brick-based academic buildings. Part of the way Belmont Hill maintained its athletic fortitude was by requiring every boy at the school to play sports all year long, one for each season other than summer. For me, choosing a fall sport was easy enough; I was a decent soccer player, and was definitively not cut out for football or cross country, the only other two fall options. When winter rolled around, however, the decision wasn’t as clear-cut. I couldn’t ski, so that was out. Hockey was a non-starter as well. I had been told by the middle school wrestling coach that I could be an asset due to my slender figure, but I had neither the muscles nor the willpower to roll around on the floor in hopes of pinning another boy to the ground. That left two sports: squash, new to me but with an intramural team where I could dip my toes, or basketball. Despite knowing that I likely wouldn’t make the basketball team (one of the few 7th-grade teams to have cuts), I decided to give the sport one last shot, for old times’ sake. The first day of tryouts came just before Christmas break. I stepped into the gym, this one painted navy blue and maroon but with a ceiling and acoustics on par with that of Melrose’s, with my basketball under one arm and water squirt bottle in the other. I wore oversized soccer shorts (I didn’t want to invest in new basketball shorts if I didn’t need to) and clunky white New Balance sneakers. Some of my classmates also trying out definitely looked more prepared: ankle tape, sport-appropriate shorts, Nike swoosh tees, and shiny new sneakers. Belmont Hill wasn’t known as a big basketball school, but it seemed they were trying to change that as there were some strong players in my year. There were 17 of us at tryouts; the max roster size was 12. I looked around and counted who I might have a shot at beating; I was the second-shortest, and from what I knew about the others, probably the least athletically-inclined as well. In short, I was intimidated; before the first drill even began, my already faltering confidence was shrinking even more. After a few minutes of us shooting around to warmup, Coach Brodie arrived. Coach Brodie was an older man who also worked at the school as an English teacher. He was exactly the kind of teacher and coach you imagine a near-retirement prep school faculty member to be: stern, blunt, and old-fashioned, with a firm belief in meritocracy. Outside of school, Coach Brodie was rumored to breed race horses, and students often gossiped about the small fortune he had amassed over the years. On this day, like almost every other one regardless of season, he sported a baseball cap atop his head, his Einstein-like gray tufts of hair pointing out from the sides. He also donned a gray tee, blue checkered shorts, white knee socks, white sneakers, and a whistle around his neck. “As I’m sure you know, eventually we’ll have to cut this group down,” he told us. “But don’t worry about that for now. We’re going to start with some simple drills to get our footing.” OkayOK, I thought, that gives us some time. Our first drill was, as Coach Brodie promised, pretty straightforward: dribbling up and down the court, switching hands each lap. Easy enough. I managed to navigate the drill fairly well, even getting through a handful of left-handed dribbles (my weaker side) without incident. My friend Liam, however, visibly struggled. Vertically-challenged and lacking some coordination, Liam wasn’t exactly the prototype of a pro-caliber basketball player, but he at least had a good spirit about him. As it turns out, spirit alone doesn’t get you very far with Coach Brodie; mMidway through one lap, Coach Brodie pulled Liam aside and whispered in his ears for a few seconds. Liam nodded, turned, and walked out of the gym. Later that afternoon, Liam verified to us what we feared: he had been cut from the team, right there on the spot, minutes into the first drill of the first practice. Apparently, we did have to worry about that for now. The rest of the tryouts went manageably well – I shot better than I usually do, played my typical brand of tight defense, and showed off my one true asset as an athlete: my hustle. Still, I didn’t expect to make the team; I was too short, too slow, and simply not as talented as most of the competition. Two days before cuts were scheduled, Coach Brodie came up to me during lunch and confirmed-without-confirming what I expected. “You know what’s a great sport, Michael?” he asked. “Squash! What a game. You ever think about trying it out?” At that point I knew the writing was on the wall. Still, I held out until the official cuts came out two days later, the day before Christmas break. Not exactly the present I had hoped for. When break finally ended, I set out to find a way to fulfill my winter sports requirement. This scramble to find a new sport would eventually guide me towards one of the major cornerstones of my time at Belmont Hill. Again, the choice came down to squash or basketball, only this time the basketball was also an intramural program. Nervous and risk-aversive, I decided to go with intramural basketball at first; I only lasted a day. The program itself was underwhelming – basically, a half-hour of court time to play HORSE or knockout in between the middle school and Varsity/JV practices. The odd timing of the practice also meant I had to sit through a two-hour study hall before heading to practice, play basketball for a half hour, then rush back for another hour of study hall. I decided this was not how I wanted to spend the next two months, so I finally landed on going for intramural squash. Squash, despite its odd name and fairly obscure nature, is actually a fairly simple game. It’s basically an altered version of racquetball; you have a racquet, a small rubber ball, and an enclosed court, as and two players take turns hitting the ball off the wall until one fails to properly hit the ball before it bounces twice. Because of this simplicity, I was able to pick up and play somewhat competitively (within the intramural squad) almost immediately. More importantly, though, it was damn fun. Squash is quick and often unpredictable; the ball bounces oddly all of the time, and every now and again a return will land perfectly on the edge of a wall or even a corner, and at that point it’s anybody’s guess where the ball will go. Moreover, a lot of my fellow non-athletic regular people friends had also settled on intramural squash as their winter sport of choice. We played a dumbed-down version of squash called “King of the Court,” consisting basically of rapid-fire one-point matches. If you won the point, you stayed; if not, you got knocked out until everyone in your court rotated through. It was one of the most enjoyable sports experiences I had had in a long time, and within just two days I felt like I had managed to actually find a place where I could fit in and enjoy my winter season. But we couldn’t allow that to continue, could we? After two days of intramural squash, me and a few other friends and I were told we needed to speak with the assistant AD athletic director – Mr. Murphy. Mr. Murphy was basically a taller, younger version of Coach Brodie; – he coached varsity basketball, had a stern demeanor about him, worse the same kind of eyeglasses as Coach Brodie, and didn’t mince words. As we waited in the hallway outside his office, a sinking feeling enveloped my stomach. We had noticed that the courts were a little over-filled, and we’d heard murmurs that they would have to trim the team down for safety reasons. All of us waiting had been late to join intramural squash, having tried out for other sports first. After over a half hour, Mr. Murphy came out into the hall to speak with us. “I’m really sorry guys, but there’s too many people on intramural squash right now. You’ll have to find something else.” Cut from intramural squash, I thought, incredulous. I just got cut from INTRAMURAL SQUASH. Just like after my last basketball game two years earlier, I couldn’t handle the disappointment and embarrassment. I had finally settled into something, and it was being taken away. Plus, who gets cut from intramural squash?!? I felt awful, but thankfully it was short-lived. The next day, the intramural squash coach did an about-face and decided to let us hang around after all. From that day on, I relished every day of squash I had. I ended up playing it for all six of my years at Belmont Hill, never drawn in by another winter sport. Over time I improved my game, and the casual practices allowed me social time to solidify some of the most important friendships of my life. I never expected to end up with over a half-decade of squash experience, but I’m certainly glad that I did.

Men’s Basketball Falls to Princeton at Home, Stay Bottom of the Ivy League

Written in spring 2017 for "Sportswriting," taught by Prof. Jon Readey at Brown University Brown (11-15, 2-8 Ivy) struggled to keep pace with Princeton (22-7, 12-2 Ivy) at home on Saturday, February 18th. The 66-51 victory gave Princeton their thirteenth straight win, and meant that the Tigers swept the Bears in their season series. The result means Princeton continue their push for the Ivy League title, while Brown linger at the bottom of the conference standings and looking unlikely to make the four-team playoff at season’s end. Shooting and turnovers were the difference in this game, as Princeton outshot Brown 46.8%-39.1% from the field and committed five fewer turnovers than Brown’s sixteen. The discrepancy in shooting success rate stuck out in the first half, as Brown hit just 6 of 19 shots whereas Princeton drained 13 out of 24. Meanwhile, turnovers hurt Brown down the stretch as they attempted a late comeback. The game started fairly evenly, with each team struggling to find their shooting streak in the early minutes. Eight minutes in, Brown only trailed 14-8. But a few turnovers and some good offense play in Princeton’s favor quickly made it 25-10 to the Tigers. From then on Brown was playing a game of catch-up that never quite came to fruition. The Bears had an airball, travel, and shot clock violation all near the end of the half that allowed Princeton to preserve their lead, going into the locker room at halftime up 33-17. Princeton’s Myles Robinson ’19 finished the half with twelve points, while Brown co-captain Steven Spieth ‘17 lead the team’s first-half scoring with six points. The second half didn’t start much better for the Bears, with Princeton extending their lead to twenty within the first four minutes. A massive block under the hoop by Princeton helped assert the Tigers’ dominance, and also took down the referee. Brown’s shooting had yet to improve, still hovering around the 30% mark on field goal conversions. The half itself was fairly disjointed, as Brown started intentionally fouling to prevent transition play and layups early on and both teams called a high number of timeouts. Midway through the second half, Brown started to pick up some momentum and the team as a whole seem to regain their shooting streak. Guards Tavon Blackmon ’17 and JR Hobbie ’17 knocked down threes within a few minutes of each other to pull the Bears within 10 with 8:42 remaining. But that was as close as Brown would get to for the rest of the game. Princeton quickly put up six unanswered points, including a ferocious slam dunk by Stephens. Spieth made an impressive drive to hoop to stop the bleeding at 52-38, but Princeton kept putting points on the board. The teams traded baskets and Princeton continued to be efficient from the free throw line, hitting twelve of sixteen in the second half. The gap was too wide to close and Brown elected not to continually intentional foul for the final few minutes, and the game ended 66-51. Brown head coach Mike Martin ’04 acknowledged that Princeton’s reputation for tough defense influenced the game heavily. “They really make you work offensively,” he said. Martin also commented on Brown’s early frustration: “The game got away from us a bit in the first half.” Spieth echoed his coaches’ thoughts, saying, “We’re a really offensive team… we’ve got to give them credit for taking away what we do well, especially in the first half.” The loss was Brown’s fifth in a row and seventh of their last eight, all coming against Ivy League opponents. Road matches at Dartmouth and Harvard and a pair of home games against Columbia and Cornell round out the Bears’ season, as their chances of making the conference tournament now appear slim.

Some Albums Are Bigger Than Others: A Look at "The Queen Is Dead" Thirty Years Later

Rating: 9.8/10

Thirty years ago today, legendary Manchester band The Smiths released The Queen Is Dead, their greatest album and one of the most revered records in music history. The Smiths were already making waves in the British alternative scene of the 1980's with their strong first two LP's - The Smiths and Meat is Murder - and non-album singles like "How Soon Is Now?" and "Please, Please, Please, Let Me Get What I Want." But on The Queen Is Dead, The Smiths hit another gear: Johnny Marr's riffs were more addictive than they'd ever been, Andy Rourke's bass lines became even more indispensable, and Morrissey delivered the best vocal performances of his career. Never before or since did the group put together a more complete album, and today it stands as one of greatest albums of the decade if not of all time.

The Queen Is Dead begins with its title track, one of the most ferocious pieces of music The Smiths ever recored. A sample from the 1962 movie The L-Shaped Room is cut off by a wail of feedback and a thunderous drum pattern before the band launches into a six-minute psychedelic escapade. Like the best songs by The Smiths, "The Queen Is Dead" features lyrics that veer from bitingly sarcastic to emotionally direct and devastating. Here, he starts with the former, alluding to the title of the album and further demonstrating his disdain for the British Monarchy: "Her very Lowness with her head in a sling / I'm truly sorry but that sounds like a wonderful thing." Here, we get our first glimpse of the macabre theme that permeates so much of The Smiths' music, but The Queen Is Dead in particular. Later, he offers a bit less dark humor and a bit more vulnerability, repeating "Life is very long when you're lonely."

Morrissey's lyrics have always been characterized by a sense of morbidity, and of all of The Smiths' albums, The Queen is Dead best showcases that side of him. On "Cemetry Gates" [sic], he recognizes his own mortality in relation to those already moved on: "All those people, all those lives / Where are they now? / With loves and hates / And passions just like mine / They were born / And then they lived / And then they died," he cries. The chorus to "There Is A Light That Never Goes Out" has become one of the most iconic moments in the catalog of one of music's most iconic artists as Morrissey approaches impending doom with a sense of Poe-like romance: "And if a double decker bus crashes into us / To die by your side is such a heavenly way to die." On "Bigmouth Strikes Again," Morrissey further explores the realm of black comedy when he insists, "Sweetness, I was only joking when I said / By rights you should be bludgeoned in your bed."

The Queen Is Dead also features the strongest one-two punch of gloom The Smiths ever recorded, in the form of consecutive tracks "I Know It's Over" and "Never Had No One Ever." The former is one of the most relatable and moving break-up songs ever written. Though Morrissey recognizes via the title that his relationship is no more, he's still unable to detach himself from the other person emotionally: "And I know it's over / I still cling / I don't know where else to go." "Never Had No One Ever" (double negative be damned) explores an even sadder character, as Morrissey fills the shoes not of someone who can't get over an ex, but somebody who's never even had an ex.

Of course, The Smiths are just as good at being light as they are at being heavy. The bouncy "Frankly, Mr. Shankly" remains perhaps the funniest moment of the group's discography, with lines like "Frankly, Mr. Shankly, since you asked / You are a flatulent pain in the arse." (In true Morrissey fashion, the singer then proceeds to almost immediately request, "give us your money!") "Some Girls Are Bigger Than Others" is laughable, though not in the way Morrissey probably intended; while he probably wanted us to snicker at his lyric on its own merit, the humor comes from the contrast between the song's mesmerizing instrumentals and ridiculous, mediocre lyrics. Even "Vicar In a Tutu," the album's only real step down in quality, offers up chuckle-inducing imagery. Earlier this week, Simon Price wrote a piece for The Quietus in which he suggested that these moments of levity detract from The Queen Is Dead's emotional impact and overall quality. As a counterpoint, I would argue that they offer much-needed breaks from the melancholy, and make the album feel more genuine and more human.

What makes The Queen Is Dead stand apart from other Smiths records and in truth from pretty much all but a handful of other albums in general are the absolutely blissful, brilliantly-worked instrumentals. Rarely will you find a track so effortlessly buoyant as "The Boy With the Thorn In His Side," or guitar-bass interplay as captivating as that on "Bigmouth Strikes Again." The false fade at the beginning of "Some Girls Are Bigger Than Others" is a unique stroke of genius that will never be replicated to the same effect, and the guitar work that follow is one of Marr's greatest achievements.
"There Is A Light That Never Goes Out" wouldn't feel nearly as magical without those soaring strings.

Three decades later, much of the music from the 1980's sounds incredibly dated, but The Queen Is Dead remains forever timeless. Its themes are universal no matter what generation you belong to, and no period of time will can take away the majesty of Morrissey's melodies and Marr's brilliance. At the same time, however, The Queen Is Dead signifies the decade from which it came. It's the magnum opus a band synonymous with the early days of indie rock, and Morrissey could never really exist successfully in any time or place other than 1980's Britain - just look at his solo work for proof. It's an album that will never go away, and also an album that will never let you forget where it came from. It's one of the most important, beloved, and iconic pieces of alternative music history. But most of all, it's a collection of songs that will blow you away time and time again.