Fair Play in Fairplay, USA

For most Denverites, summer weekends involve a Subaru or Toyota, a tent and a two-hour drive to the mountains. Last weekend, I threw my tent in the “way back” of my friend’s Four Runner and headed to South Park, Colorado.

I trust that you’ve all seen an episode or two of South Park—the irreverent adult cartoon that gained infamy as a result of one of the Internet’s first viral videos. But did you know that South Park is indeed an actual region of the Colorado Rockies? Host of a handful of towns that boast a combined population of about 1,500, South Park is also home to several thousand cattle, gold medal trout fishing, fabulous camping and beautiful mountain vistas.

Last Saturday afternoon, we stashed our fishing rods, peeled off our waders and headed to McCall’s bar in Fairplay, Colorado. With a year-round population of 610, Fairplay is the booming metropolis of South Park. What could make us abandon the abundance of rainbow and brown trout just begging to be caught on the Middle Fork of the South Platte, you ask? The answer is simple: USA vs. Ghana.

We rolled in to McCall’s, windblown and sunburned, and ordered a couple of Coors. Across the bar from us was the 2007 Burro Days champion, a title gained by being the first to get oneself and one’s burro the 29 miles to the top of Mosquito Pass, 13,000 feet above sea level. Said gentleman was approximately 75 years old and had a cane with a snap-on attachment to provide traction on ice.

Next to Burro Champ, the cook was taking a break from the kitchen. Cook wore a straw cowboy hat and a camouflage US Marine Corps apron. The McCall’s kitchen was closed that day, and was only serving Cook’s homemade bar-b-que. As all good chefs will, Cook stopped by the table to be sure the sauce was to our liking.

Scattered throughout the bar were a variety of motorcyclists, adorned in an impressive array of leather chaps and jackets. At a table on the patio, four Europeans enthusiastically rooted for Ghana in a full house of USA supporters.

Of course, you know what happened next—Ghana edged us out of the World Cup for the second time in a row. We were disappointed, sure, but the two tykes in USA jerseys and Crocs were darn near tears as team USA filed off the pitch. FIFA announcers began their analysis while McCall’s patrons closed their tabs, shook hands, patted each other’s backs and headed out the door.

In many ways, small towns are predictably divided. But once in awhile, something happens to bring diverse people together, thus leveling small towns on the community pitch. The World Cup is an international connector, but its value is also felt on the smallest of scales: I’d love to know how many Harley riders cheered with little kids, how many old-timers rubbed elbows with tourists, and how many city-folk counted themselves lucky to see it.

I’d also love to know what serves as a local connector in your town or neighborhood. In some places, it’s Little League. In others, it’s church on Sundays. In still others, it’s the community gardens or the park or the annual pancake breakfast. What’s yours?