While European wizards brought Quidditch to America in the mid-18th century, it was nearly 1800 before New England relinquished the stranglehold it had on the sport, and Quaffles and Bludgers drifted south of the Mason-Dixon Line and west into Louisiana Territory. Louisiana wizards were great players of Quidditch — tremendous enthusiasts of the sport, though somewhat reckless in their play. After one too many incidents of Quaffles lost in the Mississippi River — and indeed, the occasional player dredged waterlogged from the depths of the river to the astonishment of riverboat captains — the local authorities demanded that the Aurodados enforce the Muggle Awareness Protection Act. Just prior to the Louisiana Purchase, Quidditch was banished to the bayous.

Banishment suited the players quite well, strangely enough, for they found that dodging the cypress trees of the swamps, not to mention alligators, snakes and other dangerous beasts, provided an entirely new opportunity for danger and daring in sport. Beaters' bats are just as useful for smacking alligators as Bludgers, as it turns out, and chasing the Snitch among the branches of an ancient cypress is great fun, especially when the rival team's Seeker miscalculates her speed. The players quickly realized that forming a uniform pitch size was impossible, and more than one player attempted a novel maneuver in the hopes of naming it after himself only to be told that moves accomplished outside the pitch boundaries most certainly didn't count. Regardless, the sweet swamp tea and the fried catfish after matches made up for any bruises or irregularities.

As with all wild and reckless fun, organization eventually triumphed in the bayou. Shortly after the Battle of New Orleans, while Red Caps still roamed the city and Lafitte hadn't yet disappeared for Galveston's shores, three enterprising players formed the Bayou Quidditch League. They had a rather lot of sweet swamp tea — laced, apparently, with rye firewhisky — and began waving their wands around and bellowing about "regulation pitches" and "Snitches that are the correct color" and "never having to chase a Bludger into foul swamp water again!" (The other players judiciously failed to mention what water they'd used to make the sweet swamp tea.) Being somewhat unconvinced of the new BQL's organizational skills, everyone raised an eyebrow or two and ignored the shouts of "Hinkypunks should not be permitted in matches!"

Little did they know, however, that the Bayou Quidditch League would indeed come to pass. Long before Captain Farrugut sailed up the Mississippi, the BQL had gained control of all Quidditch matches for a 200-mile radius. Pitch dimensions were regulated, though current players still complain that only the width-to-length ratio is standard, not the absolute measurements. The Snitch became Golden, unless covered with bayou muck. Quaffle scores were always worth 10 points, instead of whatever the referee felt a particularly stylish scoring maneuver deserved. The League was a great success, and soon managed all Quidditch played from Texas to the Carolinas. Quidditch had conquered the South, and it was a very common occurrence to see Quidditch matches played as a Sunday afternoon's entertainment — or in secret by the wizarding youth after debutante balls.

That is, the League was a great success until, in the late 1980s, it aligned itself with Muggle sporting leagues. (The League was quite sure that millions of Galleons could be made in merchandising, and were furiously pursuing contracts for replica jerseys and giant foam brooms.) Since that time, the influence of Muggle organizations has been all too obvious, as the good decisions taken by the BQL recently have been far outnumbered by the annoying ones. The complaints in 2002 over the BQL's adoption of NCAA football's Bowl Championship Series model, complete with Muggle computers and complicated by pixies, were the most vicious yet, and the steady drone of grumbling has grown to a roar over the last few years with the increasing prevalence of exorbitant salaries, steroids and tacky "bling" in the once-noble sport.

The BQL is hoping to polish its tarnished image a bit by associating with Phoenix Rising. They have spruced up the Delta Cup, and have decided to open spectating at the 2007 Borders Riverside Quidditch Classic to Muggles. Obviously, gameplay must be modified somewhat to comply with the Muggle Awareness Protection Act, but the most traditional of the BQL rules remains in place: Any team responsible for a ball or a player lost in the Mississippi River will be summarily disqualified. The BQL has also been very careful to warn riverboat captains to watch for stray Bludgers.

Madeleine Defourneaux and Henri "Sparky" Landry will be managing the Classic this year, and the sporting community seems relieved. Regardless of the incompetence of the league administrative staff, Defourneaux and Landry have always run stellar tournaments, and the Classic promises to be no different — provided, of course, that teams leave their hinkypunks at home.