The Winterfest Weekend that (Almost) Wasn't [2023]

‘Twas the night before Winterfest, and all ‘cross the BSA grounds

Not a caveman was stirring, nor was there even a sound;

The Carla Talks agenda had been posted with care,
In hopes that Saint Bibi and others soon would be there;

The Czech Crushers were nestled all snug in their beds;
While visions of big titles danced in their heads;

Ms.Shnaider in her winter kerchief, and Ms.Arango in her backward cap,
Had just arrived in town for this winter’s annual pop, crackle and snap,

When all through the air there arose such a clatter,
As everyone in town sprang from their beds to see what was the matter.

Away to the campus we all flew like a flash,
Tore open the gates and en masse broke into full dash.

The shine of the lamp lights caused our collective rush to quite slow,
As it gave a lustre of mid-May to the familiar BSA objects below,

But rather than Iga on clay what to our questioning eyes did appear,
Was a series of fires and blaring alarms piercing each ear,

With a series of destructive explosions that came ever so quick,
We knew in a moment that Winterfest's fate was in danger quite thick,

More speedily rapid than Coco the firefighters they came,
As the BSA station chief Carl shouted, and called them by name:
"Now Truck 1! now, Truck 2! now 3 and 4!
On, Pegula! on, Latvian Thunder! on, Citizen Anna and more!
To the top of Sugarpova Museum! to the top of Navratilova Hall!
Now dash all the way! dash all the way! we must save them all!"

Filled with the Power of Pojd! we all so did fly,
The sprinkler systems won't save the day, so we all must try;
So up the tall trees and ladders every available hand flew
With minds on BSA's future, we hoped to save Winterfest too.

Soon, with little urging, everyone in town doused each blazing roof
This clearly was no time for anyone to remain Button-Down or aloof.

With equal parts Jabeurwockian flair, Muchovic grace and BLR Boom-like sound,
We saved this one, and that one, and anything endangered we found.

All were soon dressed in flame-retardant garb, fully from head to foot,
And all quickly were tarnished with ashes and soot;

Soon Diede the Great was lugging buckets and hoses dragged along at her back,
And she shined like a battlefield General while she led in each pack.

Her eyes-how they twinkled! her dimples, how merry!
By the time she was finished her cheeks were as rosy as a ripe and red cherry!

When morning arrived our exhausted and hungry crew saw three vans from Iga's Bakery, all in a row,
As we ate we marveled at how all the flames had finally been quenched, and even managed a smile when it started to snow;

But it was a brief moment of wonder as we soon gritted our teeth,
And watched the wisps of smoke rise from the damaged campus beneath;

We'd saved HanaJana Center, and Serena Place, too
Henin Hall, and even the BSA Bookstore, right down to its last bottle of glue.

But our beloved Academy was now ragged, a mere shell of its former self,
The surge of pride was powerful, but each tear sort of felt joyless in spite of itself;

A short time later Carla emerged from the wreckage with a downturned head
Soon we all knew that we'd been right to feel such growing grief and dread;

She spoke not a word, wiped away a bead of sweat and went straight to work,
She'd fixed this, we knew, for her reliability is no inconsistent bit of quirk,

But while we hoped that this Winterfest could be salvaged, pulled back from the abyss,
We couldn't help but put palm to head and wonder what had caused all of this.

All put our angry heads together, swapping stories and a rumor or two,
Soon we realized the hard lesson that had been learned by her and him, me and you.

No matter how desperate, or difficult things seem as the clock closes in on high noon--
Never ever -- ever! -- again hire the organizers of WTA Finals Cancun.

And so went this year's Winterfest. Or didn't, at least as it had been planned.

While the Backspin Academy campus will live to see a new (and better!) day, clearly the preparations for this year's bash were an abject disaster. The various (and multiple) burned, charred, soaked and otherwise now-hazardous buildings -- all currently marked off with safety tape to keep everyone a good distance away -- only speak to such a fact. At the moment, all upcoming on-campus activities have been cancelled and *every* standing structure is scheduled to undergo rigorous inspections.

Apparently, *someone* -- part of the new organizing committee that was installed during the fall term -- got the bright (no pun intended) idea to re-wire all the buildings on campus so that a spectuclar light show would commence as Winterfest began, utilizing the fully lit buildings across the grounds in a way so that they blinked in rhythm to the music that was to be played from the speakers placed all across the grounds. It was nice idea. In theory. But the entire application of the notion got a very late start (which explained the odd appearances of the several clearly stressed electricians all over campus just days prior to what was intended to be the open of this year's festival), and that was just the beginnning.

We've since learned that the committee got what was termed "a good deal" from a previously unknown company to do all the re-wiring, secretly (to everyone else on campus, at least) turning down a perfectly fine bid from the professional lighting crew that have been used for past Winterfest spectaculars (including last year's huge undertaking).

Well, that didn't work out very well, did it? From here foreward, a closer eye -- as well as many levels of approval -- will be necessary during the planning of all future events on campus.

Of course, many of our heralded buildings remain (seemingly) unscathed, but others will have to be "reclaimed" from the detritus of what has occurred. Much will need to be done to ready Backspin Academy not only for the upcoming semester, but just to be in winning enough form to host *next* year's Winterfest in the fashion in which we've come to expect. At the moment, one has to squint to picture in the mind's eye the vision of the previous landscape. But she shall return!

Still, the question remained of what would become of *this* year's Winterfest, suddenly left out in the literal cold on the eve of the start of all the fun.

Everyone had high hopes for this year's bash, too, though we all also knew that it'd never live up to the "bigger is better," simultaneous Carl-led hosting of the World Elking Cup and the newly Carla-organized winter celebration of a year ago. No matter, everyone needed to blow off some steam after a particularly troubling year -- so full of enmity, bitterness and frustration -- and was looking to Winterfest as a way to "renew" spirits as 2024 approached.

All sorts of special events had been scheduled, including a production in which a series of BSA student-athletes took turns donning a pair of red glasses as they each read a line of campus poet laureate Diane Dees' legendary poem "Billie Jean King's Glasses" as a special tribute to the vision of undertanding, community and realization long held by the Hall of Famer at the end of the 50th anniversary year of the founding of the WTA tour. Everyone had been practicing their chosen roles -- Elena Rybakina especially wanted to read the "I want to see righteous anger as constructive, not reactive" line -- since November, and all were relishing the opportunity to share the spotlight. Upon the reading of "This is the vision I desire...," each of the readers was to repeat "I", one after the other, then come together on the stage to read the final lines in unison.

"This is the vision I desire, the vision
I do not yet possess. This is why,
if only for a little while, I want
to wear Billie Jean King’s glasses."

Then, of course, all were supposed to gather into a circle from which BJK herself would then "magically" emerge. Alas, such a production on the BSA stage did not take place.

Additionally, before the calamity all the various booths had been set up, with a whole wall of t-shirts offered up as prizes for a wide variety of games. From a slew of "I Stand with..." shirts (offered in versions naming the likes of Peng Shuai, Simona Halep, Elena Rybakina, Tara Moore, Zhang Shuai *and* Amarissa Kiara Toth on hand) to hats and other items featuring cheeky commentary such as "Is That a Positive Doping Test in Your Pocket or Are You Just Happy to See Me?," "I'm Not a Hypocrite BUT I Think You Should be Banned for Not Breaking Any Rules," including a special edition "Free Simona" desk countdown calendar.

There was even a rumor that no less than Caroline Wozniacki was going to appear on stage to close out the Carla Talks weekend with a brand new (and updated) rendition of a timless Winterfest classic, "The Search for Caro's Roo, Part II."

Thankfully, an industrious BSA undergrad took the time to photograph and digitize this year's Cover Wall art installation before it was lost to the incompetance too disappointing to fathom. So at least the accomplishments of all those involved haven't been lost...

Thankfully, there was room for one "holiday miracle," as well. Carla style.

Yes, the *star* of last year's event, who was set to make a triumphant return to this year's festival after being busy for the past twelve months setting up the Carla Academy for the Visionary Education of Indigenous Native Societies (aka CAVE-INS), *was* able to find a way to help this year's event recover from the Winterfest eve fires.

Of note, CAVE-INS is doing quite well, so much so that Carla was forced to make the painful decision to give up her day-to-day organizing duties for this year's Winterfest because she just didn't have the time to devote to it that she felt it deserved. But when we all needed her, Carla stepped in and went to work -- overnight -- to try to cobble together *something* wonderful for everyone who'd come from so far away to reunite with their campus family for our annual rite of togetherness and celebration.

Because of Carla, we *did* have the ceremonial raising of the sacred Church of Simona banner (sans, unfortunately for a second straight year, the Romanian herself... hopefully she'll be back in '24). Before a small crowd, the flag was lifted atop a flame-scarred tetherball pole positioned in the bed of a broken down truck claimed by nature on the edge of the forest on the far banks of the river that runs between the BSA grounds and the CAVE-INS complex.

And it was with that single upholding of a longtime tradition that this year's Winterfest came about. It lasted just one might, rather than the week-long lead-up to the *official* weekend observance, but everyone who attended (a few even broke previous engagements and came after learning of what had occurred) worked assiduously to create a harmonious, inspiring atmosphere which we will all take with us into the new year, (hopefully) leaving all the stresses and piques of the old one behind while pledging to find ways to compromise and avoid such similarly tense situations going forward.

Everyone was able to "let their hair down" at the previously scheduled (at the regrettably now water-logged Sugarpova Museum of Contemporary Arts & Entertainment) costume ball, transformed into a less formal get-together held along the campfire-lit banks of the river.

All came with their eyebrows raised and "phasers set on snark," with costumes including the likes of a Moscow soccer star (Anastasia Potapova), a clown (Rybakina in full makeup, nose and big red shoes), a vampire (Jaqueline Cristian, *wearing* her cape with pride), "Iga's Burner Phone" (on which to report wardrobe violations), a tiara-wearing Queen (Zheng Qinwen) and even one attendee in a big rat suit (at first we all thought it was Dasha Kasatkina, but the guest seemed to speak with a Hungarian accent). There were also quite a number of "scary Steve Simon" fright masks, a few "unused girders" from the WTA Finals, and "slices from Carlos Alcaraz's birthday cake."

The "hightlight" of the night took place when we had an actual streaker! [NAME REDACTED TO AVOID MISPLACED SOCIAL MEDIA SHAMING] announced herself with a bullhorn, then ran along the river bank wearing nothing but a smile while carrying high a flagless pole (IYKYK) before jumping into the water and swimming away.

Has a new tradition been born?

Winterfest night concluded, in a grand bit of planning by Carla, with the hoped-for reading of "Billie Jean King's Glasses," with all the different narrators taking their turn at the microphone placed beneath the sacred banner flying above the bed (now a makeshift stage) of the truck that will surely go down in festival lore (plans are being made to move it into the Sugarpova Museum once the mess there has been cleaned up).

Once the poem's final line was read, the driver's side door of the truck flung open and BJK confidently emerged. Then the passenger door flung open, as well, shocking everyone! Out popped Carla, and the crowd went wild.

As BJK and Carla joined hands and raised their arms in triumph to end yet another memorable -- and entirely unique -- Winterfest, chants of "C-E-O! C-E-O!" emerged from the gathered crowd, floating into the sky, over the river and (we hope) into the ether where they will hopefully form the foundation for an ethos that might do everyone some good.

Of course, no one thought to ask those involved in the moment just *which* woman the chant was intended to boost. Maybe because we all knew it didn't matter, for the collective desire for good -- and someone with the mindset and know-how that can make such a thing a reality -- is what was truly being wished for. Even after such a trying 24 hours, we were all still able to dream.

Such is the magic of Winterfest, one must believe. We surely hope so, for we all know that it will soon be needed as the new year will assuredly present many unforeseen and difficult challenges.

As everyone dispersed, heading back home and elsewhere, each individual had the same thought in mind: we have a lot of work to do.

We've been told (and, really, already knew) that the "bones" of the BSA campus are still good. We can rebuild it, and maybe even make it better than before.

(Crossing fingers.)