This summer, I ended up at the Hood Classic in the Garfield gym. The basketball tournament featured alumni from four Seattle high schools: Rainer Beach, O’Dea, Garfield, and Franklin. The first round pitted the Bulldogs against the Quakers. Franklin featured NBA stars Jason Terry and Aaron Brooks, while Garfield threw together a ragtag lineup led by former UW players Will Conroy, Tre Simmons, and Anthony Washington (but no Ed Roy — DAMMIT). Realistically, two double digit NBA scorers are better than three D-league players. But this was AT the Garfield gym, and the former Bulldogs played like they knew along they were going to win. Every time Conroy scored a basket, he would hold up his arms in the shape of a “G” (see mug) and yell to the crowd. All the former Garfield players had swagger oozing out their pores. Where is it now?

Garfield used to be all about swagger. When people fawn over the glory of “Old Garfield,” they fawn over a mindset. The students back then had the swag, the knowledge that they had the power and could entice administrators to do their bidding. Students ran Garfield. That mindset has since left Garfield, and its absence is felt not only in the bland, spiritless hallways, but in the sporting venues as well.

We still had a filthy basketball team last year, it just lacked swag. Garfield still dominated the competition for the most part, but without any special, we’re-gonna-beat-you-into-a-bloody-pulp attitude (except for in the case of Juanie vs. Sean Shewey). We didn’t command absolute respect from the other teams we played. If we did, Redmond wouldn’t have DARED to mess with us.

The team was missing a sense of spirit, of community. Old Garfield had that swagger because everyone who went there loved it unconditionally. They would perform herculean tasks just to defend it from anyone who so much as thought something negative about Garfield. Will Conroy had this pride, flashing up Gs to the crowd. Former Bulldog Ed Roy, Brandon’s brother, showed his swagger too, when he ran by the Franklin crowd displaying both upraised middle fingers. Guess what, no one retaliated against him. The name Garfield carried too much weight, had too many backers. Not many people have the cajones to do that.

That’s not to say a turnaround is not in order. Have a look at the University of Miami football team. They are literally world renowned for their swag. Back in the early nineties, they were simply known as The U. They showed up at the National Championship Game decked out in matching camo warm-ups. They dominated college football for several years. Most importantly, they created the greatest musical production of all time (Youtube search: Seventh Floor Crew). In recent years, Miami has experienced a decline in swagger. With it came a decline in wins.

However they regained their swagger due to one young leader. Jacory Harris, the quarterback, wears Louis Vuitton scarves to games. He got “USWAG” shaved into his hair. In essence, he bears the pride of the program. He loves Miami unconditionally, and almost singlehandedly brought back swagger to the school that invented it. In his first year as quarterback, Harris has changed Miami from ACC laughingstock to national powerhouse.

This isn’t to say that Garfield needs one savior. Everybody needs to step it up. This is a sports column, but really it applies throughout the entire school, regardless of sports interest. Let’s set the basketball team as an example; if they start playing with swagger and school pride it will spread like wildfire. More than anything, every student needs to start loving Garfield. Even though our favorite teachers are getting fired, attendance policies are stricter than ever, and administrators apprehend students in the halls for no reason, we need to step up and show our love for Garfield, and regain our swagger while we’re at it.