Edmonton Grads basketball team; Frying Onions; a team story by Edith Sutton

Edith Sutton remembers an exciting basketball game played at the arena of the Exhibition grounds in 1932.

A lot of different events took place in the ugly building in the exhibition grounds, known as the Arena. It housed exhibits of all kinds. Since Edmonton was pretty well horse-oriented at that time, horse shows were part of the scheme of things. About the only vehicles not horse-drawn were fire engines and ambulances. It follows that a horse show was a natural, and was held in the late spring.

Came the time when there was a change of pace. A hardwood floor was laid in the center of the arena to accommodate a women's international basketball competition against an American Team. Right after the horse show!

Two very basic, bare necessity, rooms were put together in the northeast corner of the building, just past the horse stalls. These were to serve as dressing rooms for the women's ball teams and coaches. No running water, mirrors or other female frills. Just bare board benches and a slab table - not even a coat hook.

In order to get to this hideaway, it was necessary to pass through a miasma of odors - a rich mix - beginning with the strong reminder of housing of the recent horses. Add to this the smells now beginning to drift in from the activities of the various concessionaires preparing their hot dogs, hamburgers, french fries, brewing coffee and frying onions. Quite a mix.

As we, the players, hurried along the concrete concourse to the before-mentioned dressing room, the butterflies began to make their presence felt, filling the space where our supper should have been. Can anyone really eat anything when intense excitement is already in that space?

As the hands of the clock moved closer to game time the butterflies began to feel more like pigeons! Excitement, nervousness, apprehension, and anticipation - these emotions race through the mind. A great deal is riding on the outcome of the competition about to take place. Of course, once the game starts - that short blast on the referee's whistle, the butterflies are gone. Other more important things are happening.

For many years after I had hung up my shorts and running shoes, and settled down to regular activities, that strong, insistent, penetrating odor of frying onions always summoned up the butterflies.

It is many years now since I was aware of the butterflies, but the smell of frying onions never fails to bring many memories of those exciting days tumbling back into my mind.

And I rather like it.