Often I’ve heard the yelling from outside my office, the cheering and swearing at the television from a handful of student reporters in the Daily 49er newsroom when the “big game” is on. Normally, I’d just shut my door and roll my eyes — I was never really into sports.
But after a while, their incessant chatter about basketball caught my attention. What was all the fuss about? I wanted to swear, and yell at things too, damn it. And I had to admit, the sport was actually not terrible to watch, unlike baseball or golf, which I’d equate to watching cement settle.
I began to catch my eyes drifting to the screen every now and again. So, letting my curiosity get the best of me, I shed my judgmental anti-sports-counter-culture mentality Saturday to attend LBSU’s Homecoming game.
Stepping inside the Walter Pyramid for the first time as a senior left me dumbfounded as to why I’d been so reluctant to come to one of these things before. The packed bleachers, the roar of the crowd, the pungent smell of beer stuck to the ground and the sea of black and gold school spirit — it looked like a party to me.
Before this, most of what I knew about basketball came from the 1996 film “Space Jam.” Michael Jordan is still the best player there ever was, right? Couldn’t tell you.
My friend and I grabbed some overpriced Modelos and looked for an opening in the packed student section. We were a few minutes late so the game was already in full swing, with the 49ers already disappointing the crowd with its slow start to score. Apparently, Menlo College wasn’t considered to be as good as our team, so I was told our boys were going to dominate them with ease.
“This isn’t soccer bitch,” some dude in expensive sneakers and an “LB” shirt screamed after of the players accidently kicked the ball. There was the swearing. I could get down with this.
The aggression in the air was thick as the crowd of buzzed students around me screamed for their team, whose players seemed to be dragging their feet through the first half. I’d watched my friends get angry at the television before, but that paled in comparison to the real deal.
I found myself eager to see them win, so after a few pulls from my Modelo, I started to join in on the shouting fest. My first real taste of school spirit.
I’ll never forget the unfamiliar thrill of springing to my feet on the bleachers to cheer for one of the guys in gold as he made a lay-up, ringing the orange ball through the net. I will equally never forget the embarrassment I felt when my friend yanked me and my ridiculous “GO BEACH” sign back down to my seat, scolding me.
It was a dead ball, no point for the 49ers, but up until yesterday, I didn’t have any idea what a dead ball was, or a lay-up for that matter. Some people turned and laughed at me. Well, that was embarrassing.
I think some of the most exciting parts of the night came when each seated row started stomping their feet, pushing for the other team to miss their free throw. And when they did, my friend gave me my cue to raise the sign.
That simple orange ball dancing all over the court brought memories back to me that I thought I’d long forgotten. Memories of shooting hoops with my dad almost every day after elementary school in our driveway when I was 8, then 9 and 10. Until I got into karate or whatever.
I remember the fun we used to have, just father and daughter playing a traditional sport, one-on-one. That same feeling came rushing back to me as I sat among the sweaty freshman and belligerent fanboys. This wasn’t so bad after all.
When the 49ers conquered, just like my friends told me they would, I left the iconic blue pyramid with a whole new sense of school pride, and an appreciation for an American sport. It’s safe to say that I’m looking forward to the next home game; although, I’m unsure that I’ll be screaming profanities at the television anytime soon.