CORRECTION APPENDED

Sitting in press row at TD Banknorth Garden, with lights dimmed and strobes flaring, it was easy to envision a playoff atmosphere with a sold-out crowd for the Bruins or Celtics.

But, when the lights came up I remembered that I had gotten such access to cover the expansion Boston Blazers, one of twelve National League Lacrosse teams trying to gain footing in a crowded U.S. sports market. Despite generous helpings of thunder sticks, the few thousand fans below me did not seem to register on the arena’s Noise-O-Meter, causing me to question this device’s accuracy. At the opening faceoff between the Blazers and visiting San Jose Stealth, I looked down with contempt, a spoiled American fan accustomed to nationally-hyped sports action.

However, through 60 full-throttle minutes of box lacrosse (no out of bounds in a rink), I realized something obvious: the athletes weren’t playing for glory in front of large crowds, they were competing out of pure love for their sport.

NLL teams don’t resemble their big-market counterparts. Salaries average $20,000 to $30,000 and the vast majority of athletes hold second jobs. Blazers rookie Daryl Veltman counts his team lucky for having “13 or 14 guys in Boston full time,” as most clubs pay to fly athletes in for weekend games, sparing the weekdays for other work.

Can you imagine today’s superstars living such schedules? True, when Ken Griffey Jr. leaves to play for the Mariners this spring, he will leave behind his sprawling mansion in Windermere, Fla. (recently toured by Pablo S. Torre ’07), forced to content himself with a multi-million dollar condo overlooking Seattle. But, something in this sacrifice has been lost. When Griffey’s more arrogant brethren are turning down $25 million/year deals and wringing team owners for every penny before they agree to play the sport they treasure, it can be hard to identify respectable motives underneath.

This happens when athletics become a job: paycheck first, fun second.

This is not to say that the country’s best sports stars don’t take pleasure in their work—professional athletes devote hours to perfecting their skills for more than money. But, the NLL benefits from its lack of scale and small-market feel. Blazers rookie Gary Bining doesn’t care how big the league gets, as long as it brings in appreciative fans.

“I think the most important thing is that the league finds cities where fans will support the team,” he says. “Everyone talks about growing, but it’d be better to have 12 or 13 teams in good venues as opposed to 16 or 17 that are only drawing 1000.” This outlook may not please team owners or expansion-crazed marketing execs, but I hope I’m not the only fan for whom this seems so right. The NLL draws its fan base of lacrosse enthusiasts and team members not with media hype, but for a simple reason—the league offers a chance to stay connected to an increasingly popular high school and collegiate sport (Note: Blazers games are probably your best chance to see former laxer Bill Belichick in person. He busts out his “nice” grey baggy sweaters on Saturday nights).

What’s even better is that this for-the-sake-of-the-sport attitude pervades future generations of potential NLL draftees. Harvard junior midfielder Jason Duboe shares the perspective of many college players.

“[The league] is more of a hobby choice versus a career choice,” he says. “It would be great for any of us to continue our lacrosse careers, but it’s always going to be something that’s just fun for us.”

And why should we ask for more? This sentiment reflects all of the best motivations for extending childhood athletics to adult competition. While salaries of $20,000 to $30,000 for a “hobby” are no joke in a sagging economy, Veltman clearly takes a fun-loving approach to his place in the league:

“There’s a reason professional lacrosse players have been called ‘Weekend Warriors’ for a long time,” he says. “During the week we’re not playing or practicing much, but the weekends are when we come out and battle.”

And battle the Blazers did on Saturday, pummeling the Stealth 16-10 with tenacious offense. Despite Veltman’s laidback demeanor in Friday’s interview, the rookie certainly took his hobby seriously, to the tune of 2 goals and 5 assists.

Waiting to gain access to the San Jose locker room afterwards, I concluded from the coach’s tirade drifting into the hallway (F-bomb average: 3/sentence) that neither team lacks intensity when it comes to the game they love.

It may only take place once a week, but the real business of the NLL is conducted on the turf, not behind the closed doors of front offices.

I entered TD Banknorth with low expectations, wary of any public event that solicited the Crimson’s coverage so aggressively. But a closer look taught me that the NLL engenders everything I appreciate in sports, and everything we can still enjoy in Harvard athletics. The opportunity to play for nothing more than love of a sport narrows tremendously after our four years here, as even those with the talent to get drafted by the MLB or NFL face the daunting reality of profit-driven leagues.

Still, the NLL offers a refreshing vestige of purity, a professional league sustained by passion for lacrosse. It certainly sits low on the American sports totem pole (this became clear when San Jose captain Colin Donovan introduced himself to Belichick in the hallway, only to be completely ignored), but I for one hope it remains untainted. [SEE CORRECTION BELOW]

Watching athletes compete at the highest level just for fun lets us share in their joy.

So I’ll be back to TD Banknorth this winter, but not as a reporter. The NLL has earned my allegiance as a fan.

—Staff writer Max N. Brondfield can be reached at mbrondf@fas.harvard.edu.

CORRECTION

The Mar. 5 sports column "TAKE IT TO THE MAX: Athletes Play for Love of Sport" incorrectly identified the captain of the San Jose Stealth as Colin Donovan. In fact, his name is Colin Doyle.