Long holiday weekends have always been a scourge behind prison walls, but a Covid shutdown over Labor Day 2020 spawned the Corn Hole Pandemic Games. Guess who won …

August 31, 2024 by Fr Gordon MacRae

In the image above, Max Moontri and friends tackle the construction of Corn Hole stations for the Labor Day Pandemic Games in September 2020.

Note: Over fifteen years in the life of this blog, a post before the long Labor Day weekend has always been a challenge to write — not least because few people really want to read it. Any post on Labor Day competes with the end of summer, a last day at the beach, or the annual back-to-school frenzy. The Labor Day weekend of 2020 was a special challenge for your friends behind these walls, so I decided to revisit a post first published back then. Though only four years ago, it was the week a global pandemic descended on us all to change the world, and this prison world especially.

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The origin of Labor Day is attributed to Peter J. McGuire, a New York carpenter and union leader who lobbied for a holiday to honor workers in 1882. He chose the first Monday in September to give workers a holiday between Independence Day and Thanksgiving. The first Labor Day observance was held with a parade in New York City on September 5, 1882. Thousands of workers marched from City Hall to Union Square, and then gathered in Central Park for speeches and family picnics.

In 1894, President Grover Cleveland signed into law a bill to make Labor Day a federal holiday. That same year, railway workers in Pullman, Illinois went on strike to protest wage cuts. President Cleveland sent federal troops to end it. Some strikers were killed and their leaders jailed. So Congress and the President hoped a new holiday might pacify the union rank and file. A holiday contrived to calm the masses, however, has little such effect in prison.

In 2020, at the outset of the Covid pandemic, social distancing and other precautions was a real challenge in an overcrowded prison. Life here was already in a state of perpetual pandemic anxiety and lockdown with some prisoners living eight to a cell or in overcrowded dormitory settings. So a holiday weekend here is quite different from what you may experience. Once it became clear that all activities here would cease operation during the pandemic — including all visits, programs, religious services, all but essential employment, library and recreational access, and access to all but essential work sites — some ingenuity was required to keep an already agitated population from descending into Covid-induced chaos.

So in stepped the current prison warden with a dubious plan. She asked my friend, Pornchai “Max” Moontri and a few other woodcraft workers to design and build six “Corn Hole” stations for each of the three medium security prison units here. Each station consists of a pair of wooden platforms, each about 48 by 24 inches, with retractable legs on one end to elevate the platform 30 degrees off the ground. A 6 inch-hole was cut into the middle of the higher end of each platform. In the scene above, Max Moontri and a few of our woodworking friends were hard at work on the project.

Corn Hole? … Really?

Max showed me the design his crew came up with. Each Corn Hole unit would be placed 25-feet away from its mate. Contestants would then toss one-pound sewn cloth sacks of dry corn the 25-foot distance with a goal of getting them through the hole. I scoffed at this plan: “Give me a break!” I said. “No one will want to play this!”

Most prisoners here are under age 30 and grew up staring at video games. I dismissed Corn Hole as a monumental bust, but I went along and helped out anyway. Three sets of two Corn Hole units each were set up in the asphalt-covered prison yard in each of the three housing units here. In the one we lived in, most of the nearly 300 prisoners had already been subjected to weeks locked into the unit with no access to activities beyond its menacing high walls.

Younger prisoners approached the Corn Hole stations cautiously at first, many smirking just as I had predicted. Some wondered what their friends might think of them if they were seen actually trying it. A few did, and discovered that landing the one-pound sack in a 6-inch hole 25 feet away was a lot harder than it looked. Then, as though right on cue, local news carried a segment about the Boston Red Sox having to postpone playoff games due to Covid. One of the Red Sox pitchers had set up in his yard something identical to Pornchai’s Corn Hole units and was videoed trying to land his fast ball through the hole from 25 feet away. That was all it took. Competition for the Pandemic World Series of Corn Hole was on!

This went on for an entire week leading up to Labor Day, with teams taking turns practicing all day long. Max patiently explained the game to me. Each player was given four one-pound red or black cloth-covered sacks. The woodworking crew careful measured out the dried corn for each then meticulously weighed and sewed the sacks.

A player would get one point for landing the sack on the platform 25 feet away. However, an opposing player could steal the point by knocking the other players’ sacks off the platform with some of his own. Getting the sacks through the hole was much more difficult, and worth three points each. On the Sunday afternoon before Labor Day, Max dragged me out there for some practice. Having shown me all the intricate maneuvers for landing a sack near or in the hole, my first throw caught the corner of my shirt and went straight up. It smacked Max on the head on its way back down. He just rolled his eyes and patiently told me that we are supposed to throw the sacks at the platform and not at each other.

By then, news that I had condescended to play Corn Hole spread throughout the entire building. Picture the South Unit as a giant motel with four floors, each with a long railed concrete walkway. Along the levels of walkways are doors to individual pods each housing 24 men in small 60-square-foot rooms around its interior perimeter. From our vantage point from the courtyard down below, men were pouring out those doors like the mobs at Nero’s Circus Maximus in ancient Rome to watch me and Pornchai introduce the fine art of Corn Hole to gladiator school. To raucous cheers from the abhorring crowd, I actually managed to score a point with my very first throw. My second throw landed nicely on a platform near the hole, but it was the platform for the game underway next to us. I was mortified!

On Labor Day, a Corn Hole Tournament was underway with players vying for wins in 2-out-3 game sessions. One by one over the day players were eliminated only to become critical spectators. By late in the afternoon on Labor Day, only two finalists were left: Max Moontri and one of our friends, Jeff. I was selected by wide acclaim to be scorekeeper because no one trusted anyone else to do it. The competition rose to a frenzy. Dozens of raucous spectators lined the court while a hundred other watched, with cheers and catcalls, from the walkways above.

Since I was the scorekeeper, and the roommate of one of the contestants, I had a box seat just feet away from the action. The tension was brutal. Max lost the first game. Then he won the second. The third game ended in a tie (no pun intended). So now we were in Corn Hole Overtime Play and I was at the edge of my seat in the heat of nerve-wracking competition. The finalists were both very good and almost evenly matched. Every throw was met with a chorus of cheers or groans from the multitude.

The game was for 21 points. In the final playoff game, Max was losing 20 to 16. Jeff was one point away from the Grand Championship when Max, with a single masterful throw eliminated every sack Jeff had positioned around the hole on the platform. The crowd became silent as Max tossed his final sack high in the air. It went through the hole 25 feet away without even touching the wood for a decisive and spectacular win.

Before a cheering and adoring crowd, Max Moontri became the first (and last) Prison Corn Hole Pandemic Games Champion. I was beaming with pride!

But then, as the crowd calmed down, I advised Max against adding “Corn Hole Pandemic Games Champion” to his resume. Some things are just better left unsaid.

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Epilogue

The above story took place on Labor Day, September 7, 2020. On the next day, September 8, after 30 years in prison since age 18 and fifteen years as my roommate, Immigration and Customs Enforcement showed up to take Max away for forced deportation to his native Thailand which he had not seen since he was taken from there at age 11. The rest is not a feel-good Labor Day story, but it does have a somewhat hopeful and happy ending. You can read both the story and its continuation in the following posts (If you don’t have time to read all three, we especially urge you to read number 3.):

Human Traffic: The ICE Deportation of Pornchai Moontri

A Catholic League White House Plea Set Pornchai Moontri Free

Free at Last Thanks to God and You!

The Eucharistic Adoration Chapel established by Saint Maximilian Kolbe was inaugurated at the outbreak of World War II. It was restored as a Chapel of Adoration in September, 2018, the commemoration of the date that the war began. It is now part of the World Center of Prayer for Peace. The live internet feed of the Adoration Chapel at Niepokalanow — sponsored by EWTN — was established just a few weeks before we discovered it and began to include in at Beyond These Stone Walls. Click “Watch on YouTube” in the lower left corner to see how many people around the world are present there with you. The number appears below the symbol for EWTN.

Click or tap here to proceed to the Adoration Chapel.

The following is a translation from the Polish in the image above: “Eighth Star in the Crown of Mary Queen of Peace” “Chapel of Perpetual Adoration of the Blessed Sacrament at Niepokalanow. World Center of Prayer for Peace.” “On September 1, 2018, the World Center of Prayer for Peace in Niepokalanow was opened. It would be difficult to find a more expressive reference to the need for constant prayer for peace than the anniversary of the outbreak of World War II.”

For the Catholic theology behind this image, visit my post, “The Ark of the Covenant and the Mother of God.”