Aix and Beyond: Mona'CRIT Paris 2011

A weekend of sports, pride and glory on the line, and a few 3,000 person parties - that's Mona'CRIT in a nutshell. The national sports tournament is a venue to represent your school colors and compete against the other political science faculties from all over France.

On Thursday March 24th the delegation from Aix - known as Les Cigales, or The Cicadas - met by the Gare Routiere in central Aix-en-Provence. There were athletes representing just about every sport - men's and women's soccer, basketball, handball, tennis, track and field, even pétanque (the Provencale sport of choice). To supplement the athletes our very own diehard fan group - the Aix Pistols - along for the weekend. After making sure everyone from our 300 person party filed onto the appropriate bus and the convey took off on an 8-9 hour journey to Paris.

We didn't leave until close to 10 p.m. and drove through the night, stopping occasionally to let people buy snacks and hit the bathroom (the buses were not equipped with toilets). The soccer team had a game the next day at 11 and the only thing I wanted to do was try and sleep before the tournament started - but that's not how CRIT works. The party starts on the busride to Paris and continues until the busride back to Southern France on Sunday. There was a large group of Aix Pistols on our coach and as Pastisse was passed back and forth between the Supras (super fans) chants were hurled out of megaphones. There is an entire book of songs that we were all given so that we could learn and sing-along at the matches of the other teams. Eventually, the energy died down a bit, and with the help of my headphones and ipod I managed to sleep fairly soundly until the morning.

When we arrived in Paris it was about 8:30 a.m. and the bus detoured to a large park in downtown. There, our delegation descended into the bright Parisian morning and organized ourselves into a tightly-knit pack. Flags waved as we all donned our yellow hats and red shirts so that we looked like a school of colorful fish. We marched ensemble into the park where we encountered the other faculty's delegations - all decked out in their school colors: pink for Toulouse, blue and orange for Strasbourg, yellow and black for Paris, red for Lilli, red and blue for Lyon. The kids pulled out all the stops - not an inch of skin showed that wasn't covered in face or body paint, songs rang out across the park and banners waved in the wind.

The whole point of this initial march was to encounter other faculties and face off with them. The two schools would then line up and attempt to show they had more spirit than the other by chanting, organized and choreographed movement and, in the case of Aix, flare burning. Our delegation was the only one to bring a decades supply of red flares to the competition, and the guys in charge of the Aix Pistols pulled them out whenever they felt like it - giving our group a more or less badass feel. The combined effect of the flares and red and yellow smoke bombs shrouded the Aixois in a mist of intensity and pride.

After facing down the Parisians, the Lillois and a couple other facs, we made our way back to the buses to depart for the sports complexes where the teams would compete.

Our soccer team had the first game of the day and when we got to the Poissoniers sports complex we had an insane amount of supporters there to give us energy. We changed into our brand new uniforms in the locker room and ascended to the field with a raucous roar of adoration from our fans.

The games were short - only 20 minute halves - meaning you couldn't waste your opportunities and had to score quickly. Luckily our team has some excellent attacking options and we managed to win our first game handily. After the match we could relax for a few hours before our second group game in the afternoon.

That game was a bit more stressed as we dominated, but didn't find the breakthrough until the last 10 minutes, where we scored 2 goals and put the game away at the death.

After our games we all showered and changed clothes before heading out to watch and support our other teams. We watched the girls handball team beat the Parisian favorites and then caught some of the women's basketball game.

When the day's games were complete we all took the subway across the city to the university restaurant where we were given free meals for the weekend. We ate as a school and when we finished regrouped and hiked for about 20 minutes to a rendez-vous point where we hopped onto our buses and headed out to the night's party - the first of the weekend.

In one of Paris' many suburbs we jumped off the bus and found ourselves in front of a giant renovated warehouse. After waiting in line for a while we filed into the giant complex and wandered to the second floor where a massive dance floor had been setup, complete with lasers, a stage with a band and DJ, and an open bar. The soccer team wasn't sure if we would have our semi-final game the next day at 8 a.m. or 11, so we avoided the temptation to party and instead sat back and relaxed while the craziness went on around us. People were still donning their wild getups and school colors, but the party was completely integrated - everyone from everywhere seemed to be making friends and mingling as they danced, drank and (in many cases) kissed.

Finally, at about 2:30 a.m. it was time to go and we all piled onto our buses and for the first time since arriving made our way to our hotel. We didn't get to the hotel until about 3:30, and when Ryoma, Andres and I got to our room we were asleep in about 30 seconds. The next morning we got up early, because we still weren't sure if we'd be playing the early game or not. We traversed the city as a team to the other sports complex and waited to find out what the deal was with our game - turned out we would be waiting til 11, so we plopped down and tried to relax.

Finally it was time to play, and we had Lyon to face in the semi-final which would be a full 90 minutes. The game started out OK - we were dominating, but had zero fans on the touchline while the Lyonais had about 200. After a miscommunication at the back between our goalie and center-back the Lyonais found the opening and put themselves up 1-0 against he grain of the match.

We managed to fight our way back into the match after some good work on the flank produced a piercing run into the box by one of our center-midfielders, named Roman, who was chopped down leaving the referee no choice but to give a penalty. Ryoma tucked it away neatly, but the ref said he had to retake it after encroachment by other players around the box. On the second occasion he made no mistake and made things even once again.

The team from Lyon lack the technical ability to play around us, but they were much larger and more physical than our team, and made it difficult to find a rhythm as they continually booted long balls up the field and fouled constantly. As the game wore on we found it difficult to break them down because their massive German center-back would simply crush every ball that came near him.

With about 15 minutes left in the game Lyon had a throw in deep in our end and when the ball arrived at the player I was marking he mis-controlled and the ball popped up, grazing my fingers in the process, before our defender cleared. The ref, to everyone's dismay (even the Lyonais) pointed for the spot and gave a penalty for handball. I asked him for an explanation of his call - since the rule states a handball in the box is only a penalty if the hand plays the ball, not if the ball plays the hand, and/or if it changes the trajectory and outcome of the balls path (my fingers did neither, as no other Lyon players were even close, and it wasn't my fault that the kid took a bad touch). The ref denied my request and on the subsequent penalty Lyon went up 2-1.

We grew increasingly desperate and had a few good opportunities to equalize, but couldn't find a way through the Lyon defense and eventually the 90 minutes was up leaving us dejected and angry. In the minutes following the final whistle I accosted the referee and exhausted my limited (but thoroughly offensive) vocabulary and hurled every insult I knew at the ref as I demanded an explanation of his decision and asked why he decided a semi-final with such a weak call. I accused him of actively taking part in the game before throwing a couple more terrible phrases his way as my teammates watched him slink off with a slight smile on his lips.

We were devastated, and a couple of my teammates even found themselves in tears, knowing that this may have been their lost shot to claim the trophy.

After a solemn shower I, along with a few friends on the team, made my way back to the hotel where we dropped our stuff off before heading out into central Paris. We wandered the streets - following our friend Stephane (a former Parisian himself) - before meeting up with some other people and grabbing some dinner.

Eventually we made our way to the Pompidou Center - the rallying point for all the CRIT participants before the organized pub-crawl would begin. The scene was breathtaking - 3,000 kids all sporting their school colors, chanting, laughing and drinking in front of the modernist building. Eventually, when the Aix delegation had grown to a sizable group flares once again cast their glow across the square while we sang.

The organizers of the tournament had come to an agreement with some of the bars around the area to provide 3 euro beers for anyone involved in CRIT. We had maps so as to find the various pubs. Andres, Ryoma, Stephane and I made our way to a pub in the vicinity and had a couple of beers before cruising meeting up with two of the older guys on the team - Arthur and Émile - and finding another bar that we could sit down at and relax.

Eventually we had to make our way back to the rally-point where we were to catch the buses to the hotels. Once again, the march was long (about an hour and a half) and the bus ride lasted a good 45 minutes meaning we didn't get home until about 3 a.m.

The next morning we slept in a bit before Ryoma, Andres and I caught the metro to watch the girl's basketball team compete in the final against Paris - unfortunately they lost, but the atmosphere was great as a plethora of supporters were there cheering them on.

After the game the three of us found our way to the Arc de Triomphe and the Champs Élysées where we took some pictures and wandered around. Our little promenade was cut short as we had to grab our stuff from the hotel before meeting up with the rest of the crew for dinner at the university restaurant.

Once dinner was over we again hopped on the buses and drove to the final party of the weekend. This time the "fete" was to be held in a giant convention center about 50 minutes outside of the city limits. When we got to the arena we were hustled inside and herded together so as to sit with our faculty in a designated stop, leaving the giant dance floor bare. A wet bar was selling beer and cocktails and while we waited for things to kick off we had a couple drinks, taking in the scenery. Finally, the party was jolted into life as the MC's voice came on over the loudspeakers. The Pom-Pom Girls competition began - which is basically a cheerleading/dance contest in which each school has a choreographed performance on the dance floor, as the stands - filled with 3,000 yelling kids - cheer their team. It was pretty awesome, and really fun to cheer and laugh with our school.

When the competition was over and every team had performed the stands emptied as everyone in the arena swarmed onto the dance floor for a gigantic dance party, like the first night, but this time with more craziness as competition was over and everyone wanted to enjoy the last night of what had been an incredible weekend.

Eventually there was a pause in the music as the MC announced the winner of the dance competition - the Parisians - and the overall winners of the entire CRIT tournament. Each delegation had someone speak briefly to thank everyone - our team captain Jérémy said a few words - before the party continued for an hour longer until it was finally time to start the long journey home. When we got onto the buses at 3 a.m. the energy that had been so electrifying on Thursday had died down and people settled quietly into their seats as we started the trek back to the South of France.

All in all the weekend and the experience was something I'll cherish for the rest of my life. Although the tournament was competitive, and the pride of representing your school was evident throughout, there was a significant and, actually quite touching, amount of comradery between all the faculties. I've never every seen anything like it in the states - the amount of enthusiasm and energy was amazing. Nothing like CRIT exists in the States and I feel lucky to have been a part of something so unique and fun.

CRIT 2010 - you had to be there. I was. And I will never forget it.

Rallying point in Aix before the journey to Paris.

The Aixois as we organized ourselves before venturing into the park to face off with the other faculties.

Aix Pistols - our Super Fans.

The ubiquitous sang et or (blood and gold) of Provence.

The flares are lit.

Our red and yellow smoke bombs - the first step in creating a wonderful ambiance.

The flares are the second ingredient.

Our semi-final game against Lyon.

Almost crushed this volley past the keeper.

Roman - our team's Valderama.

Émile - one of our star forwards.

Me - G.W. Bush. Our team ("Les Bons Copains" or the Good Friends) went with a dictator theme on our jerseys. Our Dutch friend Andres donned a shirt with Van Qaddafi on the back.