Tourney missing its No. 1 fan

Where in the world is Harold?”

He’s not standing by the auditorium doors shaking the hands of fans as a sort of unofficial tournament greeter. He’s not sitting behind the officials table. He’s not standing on the sidelines waiting for the game referees to hand them their jackets.

Neither is he at Geaghan’s pub across the street from the auditorium lunching on a grilled cheese sandwich with a side of mashed potatoes smothered in ketchup.

The Eastern Maine High School Basketball Tournament is certainly steeped in beloved traditions, and for the most part, all of those things were just as they should be when my daughter and I went to the Dexter vs. Narraguagus girls game Tuesday.

The bands, the fans, the smell of popcorn and steamed hot dogs all were present and accounted for.

But Harold, arguably the tournament’s longest and most-ardent fan, was not.

Clearly something was up, because Harold Hoar has been camped out at the Bangor Auditorium during tournament week for as long as anyone can remember.

A typical tourney day may find Harold, dressed in a suit and tie, walking the perimeter of the court shaking hands with his many friends, greeting fans at the door or enjoying his responsibility of taking care of the jackets of the game officials.

Just about 10 years ago, the referees and Maine Basketball Commissioner Peter Webb presented Harold with a framed certificate for his service.

Basketball is Harold’s game, and he and the games’ officials have always had a mutual admiration for one another. He has free run of the officials room at the auditorium. Despite mild retardation, Harold is renowned for his knowledge of the game.

He has been interviewed by pretty much every sports broadcaster and newspaper writer in the area.

Harold, who just turned 59, was born and raised in Island Falls. For decades now, the annual weeklong trip in February has been his biggest joy.

His motel room at the Best Inn across from the auditorium is paid for by someone. People have their suspicions, but no one’s talking. The three squares he eats at the restaurant are most often picked up by one of his many fans at the pub.

Each day he dresses in a suit and tie (he was told at a young age that he should dress up on game day, and he does) and walks across the street for the first game of the day.

Among the friends Harold has made during the years is a group of three guys from Lubec who, though amateurs compared with Harold, are true tourney fans. Al, J.R. and Frankie arrive each year like clockwork and set themselves up in a room at the Best Inn. It’s clearly serious business. First they lug a full-size refrigerator through the motel lobby toward their second-floor room. Then there’s one keg, two kegs and of course a humidifier to keep the air in the room pleasantly moist.

This year the “Lubec boys” arrived to find a message to them from Harold waiting for them at the front desk.

They called him back to learn that he has emphysema and has had to go into an assisted-living facility. His doctor advised him against making his annual journey and, true to form, Harold does as his doctor tells him.

The good news is that someone is bringing him down for Saturday’s game, and he will most surely have his own fan club waiting to greet him. A few years back, his friends considered doing a “Where’s Harold?” calendar since one never knew exactly where in the auditorium he’d turn up.

Back then, Commissioner Webb quipped that Harold’s secret was that he would often sneak on over toward the winner’s side as the game drew to a close. Everyone, including Harold, likes to hang with the winners, no matter which team.

I hope that today finds Harold right where he belongs: just behind the officials table at the Bangor Auditorium. Perhaps afterward there will be time for a grilled cheese sandwich, mashed potatoes with ketchup and a piece of chocolate cream pie … warmed up, please.