I've Got a Golden Snitch!

"Everyone follows Quidditch," according to the Harry Potter Lexicon. In the world of Hogwarts, this statement is certain. With its legions of World Cup attendees, its rough physicality (thanks to Beaters who bludgeon opponents with Bludgers), and its hooped goals, the sport combines soccer, rugby, dodgeball, and basketball into a maddened free-for-all flight of fancy.

There's a greater truth now behind what the Lexicon writes. Everyone indeed follows Quidditch, including the Muggles. We non-magic folk cannot fly on our broomsticks like the Wicked Witch of the West, pelting around Quaffles and seeking out Snitches. Ever since we put down Sorcerer's Stone--that's what we call it in America--we have wondered just what it would be like to soar through the air in this fantastical sport.

In the Northeast, a phenomenon has grown over the past four years: turning Quidditch earthbound. There's a strong likelihood that even Princeton students major in highly advanced sciences but don't master the art of broomstick riding during their formative college years. But if this seems like an obstacle, just think of how desperate students must be, living up North. The almost daily wind gusts simulate the illusion of flight. To complete the facade of wizardry, American Quidditch enthusiasts solved the rest of the problem: there's no need to fly on the broomsticks. If players squeeze them between their legs as they run around the field, J.K. Rowling's magical sport will retain its integrity.

And so, what was once vicarious has now formed into the possible, if improbable. Do we expect any less of Emerson undergrads? They hosted four teams at the 2008 Quidditch World Cup--though, in all fairness to England, it consisted of American teams only. These teams are organized under an official name: the Intercollegiate Quidditch Association. From a grassroots intermural effort, the tournaments grew into a full-fledged club sport, joined by many other quirky liberal arts-based colleges like Amherst and Vassar. Princeton, one of the "top three" Ivys, even hosts a team. After all, the boarding-school tradition of Rowling's Hogwarts remains in America in these private Northeast colleges, especially those that separate Oxford-style into internal schools. Gryffindor and Hufflepuff live on in New England.

CBS, the Wall Street Journal, and USA Today all have covered the tournaments.

In November, we can log onto collegequidditch.com to watch a live stream of the bloodshed. It's a tough sport in some ways, but other aspects feel like Capture the Flag. Rules, by necessity, have changed:

1. The Bludgers, which devastate your chances of staying in the game (and often result in sharp falls and concussions) in the novels, become Nerf balls. If you are hit, you relinquish the Quaffle for possible interception, but you are not out.

2. The Quaffle, usually a volleyball, is thrown through a hoop like a basketball. Competitive teams use discs that add Ultimate Frisbee to the amalgamation of sports.

3. The best part of all this translation is the Snitch. A small yellow ball that careens on its own accord in Rowling's game, the Snitch needs to have a mind of its own. So students dress up a cross-country runner in all yellow and ask him to be an inanimate object that moves around rapidly. He is "released" at half-time to roam past the field if he wishes--and keep in mind, he's bright yellow and not hard to spot. Some schools use the entire campus for Snitch hide-and-seek. To "capture" him, players grab a sock dangling from his pants (thereby adding flag-football to the mix). Do the Snitches have to text their capture to the refs, I wonder.

There's beauty in how this fanfic-level shrine to nerdiness has taken off. Within the next five years, American just might tune into ESPN for Arena Quidditch. Commercialization is crucial to expansion. While the Emerson team began by riding around on found wooden objects like tree branches, now they have purchased official Quidditch brooms from an official company that manufactures them.

Sadly, England seems behind in this development, and why should we expect otherwise? They aren't as awestruck by their standard schooling system: house allegiances, medieval architecture, ages-old secret societies. Here in America, we see Rowling's highly British world as something exotic and, therefore, magical. As strange and wondrous as this Muggle Quidditch has become, it speaks to the power of fantasy, how we want so vociferously to join characters of fiction in their adventures, as if we need these dalliances to keep from being mundane. I assure you: walk through the Boston Common in October, watch two cloaked 20-year-olds sashay around with broomsticks in pursuit of a yellow man at lightspeed, and experience the magic of real life.