Sometime this weekend between the Gran Fondo and the Tour of California – or whatever else springtime ritual you pursue – take time to as I did yesterday afternoon, and drop by Depot Park.
It’s where Saturday and Sunday’s U.S. Pétanque Championships are being held, which is even a bigger deal than the last time it happened here, 10 years ago. With 175 contestants from Maine to Petaluma on hand, the pétanque championship will draw at least that many spectators, if not more.
“We have to contest against the bike race on Saturday,” said Patrick Vaslet, organizer of the event, as he gestures in the direction of the plaza.
Then he turns and gestures in the other direction. “Then on Sunday, did you know there’s a Little League tournament?”
That’s okay. One gets the feeling that what makes pétanque the fastest-growing sport in the United States – as I was reminded on more than one occasion – is that it’s social in itself. Aside from a few outliers, and we’ll get to that later, it’s a friendly combat between good friends for the right to buy the wine.
That’s obviously appealing to Sonomans. “It’s outdoors, we have good weather, and there’s always good food,” Barbara Hall, one of three local women on the national women’s team.
On the team too is Erin McTaggart, who was not there Friday, and Narin Garrett, who was. The fourth, an alternate required in international play, is Cynthia Stroud. She’s from Maine.
“I first played with a friend at Bastille Day here in Sonoma,” said Garrett between rounds with the several pick-up games going on at the pétanque courts.
“Now, here I am, ten years later on the national team. It’s a Sonoma thing, I guess.”
“It’s a layered game,” she comes back to tell me. “On the hand you just throw the ball there and try to get it close. But the more you play there’s even more strategy comes into it – it becomes offensive, to remove the other player ball.”
I could see one player who had that offensive game down pat. Ziggy Ayayi from Chicago learned the game in his native Togo. French is widely spoken in West Africa, and it’s no surprise he learned a French ball game.
Pitch after pitch of his took another player’s ball of the court, usually by overkill. His throw is a hunch and a twist, then a backhand snap – the spinning hollow steel boule becomes an agent of death from above for the hapless ball in its trajectory.
It you do drop by, don’t be surprised by the odd French term – "boule" means ball, and “pétanque” means feet together, the means of making the toss. Or by a refreshingly worldly audience, or the odd Citroen in the parking lot.
Least of all don’t be surprised by the presence of afternoon wines and snacks. This is a civilized game, after all. Kind of a Sonoma thing.
