By HUGO HENTOFF Sep. 7, 2017
At Bowdoin, we’re supposed to be “at home in all lands,” but recently I’ve noticed that my peers have been reducing me to just a single part of my identity. Yes, I am on the basketball team, but that’s not all there is too me. I’m so much more than just a good-looking jock who drops mad buckets; I’m also a golden retriever whose unlikely friendship with a fatherless 12-year-old boy let America feel again. Also I’m a psych major.

When people look at me, it’s like all they see is my jersey. When a professor asks the class, “Who’s a good boy?” no one expects the big, dumb jock to know the answer. If they ever bothered to just look past my gorgeous blond hair and record-breaking vertical leap, they’d know that it’s me. I’m the good boy.
Athletics are a big part of my life. I wouldn’t be who I am today if it weren’t for that technicality in the official basketball rulebook whereby it never explicitly prohibits dogs from playing the sport. And if it weren’t for the rush I get from stepping onto the court each game, I’d probably be dead right now, like almost every other dog born in the mid-1990’s. Basketball is part of me. I’m not trying to deny that. But it’s not all of me.












Reading was a prominent leader of the drinking culture when she attended the University of Chicago in the 1920’s. It was known throughout the Midwest that she could do a keg stand for 13 minutes before deriving the Lorentz Transformation Equation upside down with one hand tied behind her back. It is no secret either, that her best “disc” time is still the national record, at 16.31 seconds.



