Glass City Squash

Word on the Court: Toledo Squash Club

Clubland USA readers might well know that I am afflicted with squashivitis. I even dream about it, and much of my life has revolved around it when I picked up my first squash racquet at eight. And then there’s the love for the life that revolves around squash, in my rather biased opinion the most jovial of all the club sports. Add to that, years of spectating closely the interactions of professional squash and clubland, and you’ll be as amazed as me to find out that one of the fairest havens for squash in the Midwest is in Toledo, Ohio, at the now-struggling Toledo Club.

The Toledo Club’s squash programme has an illustrious history, beginning in 1924, when they built their first squash courts, making it one of the first clubs in the Midwest to acquire squash courts. While it took them a sliver beyond a half-century to recruit their first squash pro, Tom Rumploer, over the years they’ve had quite the line-up, including the legendary John Seidel, who held court for more than three decades, beginning in 1988, under whose direction the club began hosting an iconic squash event for pros and amateurs alike, the Toledo Squash Classic, on their five courts.

The Toledo Squash Classic is, in the words of the Toledo Club member, John Skeldon, “one part squash and two parts party”. Word on court, however, as relayed by the inimitable Detroit Athletic Club squash pro who extrudes energy from down under, Mick Joint, is:

“Come and enjoy the incredible service of John Seidel and his band of merry men as they pamper you with beer, squash, beer, beer, some more squash, some food, beer, and a couple of models that will serve you more beer, a party, beer, a dinner, the Haka, beer, and if you are still standing by Sunday morning, some more squash. And beer.”

There’s one thing that runs across all accounts of the Classic: it’s a jolly fest. Joint’s anecdotes are revealing:

“The guy who was physically attacked at a local bar on Friday, was punched and bloodied before the bouncers blamed him for the incident and roughly escorted him out of the establishment although he didn’t even throw one fist. They escorted the instigator through the back door—a girl.”

“The guy who even though has a body skinnier than mine and tan whiter than an albino polar bear, decided to “dirty dance” during the Saturday night shin-dig topless for at least 10 minutes. It was caught on camera and now threatens to be released to the world. The parties are negotiating! It was not pretty, but it was hilarious.”

“The guy who passed out in the bar at 2pm Saturday before his match, but still managed to win. I am not sure whether to be impressed or disgusted!”

Apparently Seidel’s tradition of hiring models to serve beer during the Classic has continued, though word on court happens to be that the median attendee of the Classic will likely take a beer from anyone, including a troglodyte and even an ogre, after swapping their squash protective goggles for beer goggles.

Squash seems to be an important part of the show, though. “The Toledo Squash Classic was born in 1991 after a very successful run of an event called the North American Open (NAO)”, Skeldon recounts. “The NAO was the signature event of The Toledo Club’s squash calendar, and it introduced the Pro Squash world to The Toledo Club. The NAO ceased operations in 1990, so in true Toledo Club form, we had to come up with another reason to party.” Over the years, the Classic has hosted professional squash players and amateurs across various divisions, from those who stumble holding a racquet sober to those who stumble holding racquets because they’re hungover. The pro draw is an invite-only, eight-man draw, bringing some of the very best squash to bear upon the Glass City.

But there’s also something quite charming and admirable about the Toledo Club’s squash programme. Throughout the year, almost 200-odd members play in leagues, friendly games, and a draft-style team set-up that guarantees more merriment, sustained throughout the year.

We’ve been told that the Classic is a darned good time, and I’m trying to convince my fellow squash mates to leave New England for the Midwest (and plenty of beer). It’s a darned pity, though, that the Toledo Club is in dire straits, and Wellington lad Alex Noakes succeeded fellow Englishman Eddie Charleton rather recently. Word around the squash world is that Noakes is doing a darned good job, and it would be a shame to see Toledo lose its last bastion of civilisation (read: squash courts).