Run, jump and play like a kid at Sky High Sports
By Anna Baldasty
Where can you go to get rid of all that pent-up energy you carry around during the notoriously slow winter quarter? Well, one place is Sky High Sports, where it's OK -- even mandatory -- to be, quite literally, bouncing off the walls.
Sky High Sports is a trampoline complex started by brothers Ron and Jerry Raymond. A San Jose State graduate, Jerry's job working in a computer consulting firm wasn't exactly thrilling, so he decided to do something about it.
"I was looking for something that would be more kid-friendly, something where my kids would actually want to come to work with me," said Raymond.
By converting a former warehouse into a network of trampolines covering the floors and walls, Raymond succeeded, creating a vast playground for both kids and adults. Not surprisingly, though, retrofitting the structure itself was not Raymond's most daunting obstacle. Rather, it was getting the trampoline complex insured.
All customers must now sign a detailed waiver which verifies their awareness and acceptance of potential risks.
There have been no major injuries to date, and the legal language of the release form makes the trampolines -- which boast specially designed frames covered by four-inch-thick safety pads -- sound far more menacing than they really are.
Although at first glance the target age group of Sky High Sports seems to be young children and preteens gathering for birthday parties, don't be deceived. According to Raymond, Sky High Sports draws customers of all ages, "from five-year-olds to 55-year-olds."
In fact, many of Silicon Valley's biggest names, like Google, eBay and Cisco Systems, have chosen Sky High Sports as a venue for their corporate parties. In addition, "AIRobics" classes held every Tuesday and Thursday nights tend to attract a more mature crowd.
Despite having just opened four months ago, Sky High Sports is remarkably busy. Because safety regulations mandate that only 110 customers be admitted at one time, on weekends, the wait can be up to two hours.
But that doesn't stop people from sticking around. Two big screen televisions and a concession stand which sells soda, hotdogs and churros help abate the boredom of waiting for your allotted jump time, an hour of freedom that costs just $9.
The trampoline complex is divided into three sections, the largest being the main jump room. Two sections toward the back, though smaller, are clearly more popular. One of these is the foam pit, where customers can jump from trampolines into a deep sea of soft, foam bricks. But the other, the dodgeball court, is what really draws the crowds.
I somehow find myself here, and while battling a group of trash-talking 11-year-old boys, I can't help but admit that no one is too old for this. I bounce up and down as Nerf balls whiz by my head and as my teammates, a group of seven-year-olds who developed an intricate "game plan" with my friends and me as we waited in line, creep bravely to the front lines to get more ammo. Suddenly I am pegged squarely in the stomach. Man down.
I reluctantly leave the court, defeated, but not without hope. Perhaps my younger, more agile teammates, who seem to have played this game a number of times, will carry us to victory. And indeed they do. And then, of course, get in line again.
Contact Anna Baldasty at abaldasty@scu.edu.