By Andrew Hard
(To skip ahead to Part II, my trip to MTSU for the Ole Miss game, click here).
The nature of The 592 is that the majority of teams on the list are in college basketball -- almost 60%. So while this isn't intended to be a basketball blog, it happens that most of the games I'll see will indeed take place on the college hardwood. This will unfortunately involve a lot of bad basketball, and with it, some really bad college basketball crowds. It will also take me to some of the most glamorous venues and most electric home-court advantages in the game. Vanderbilt's Memorial Gym looks really weird on TV -- the crowd is set back from the sideline, the benches are on the endlines instead of the sidelines, and the student section is "sunken" below the floor level (this all because it was originally built as a combination basketball stadium/theater, leading to many SEC fans calling it "The Opera House of Doom"). The home-court advantage at Memorial Gym, though, is quite remarkable given the small size of Vanderbilt's fan base and student body. Other SEC fans will tell you this is solely because of the end zone benches, where coaches have to yell all the way down the court to get plays called and players have to sprint to the scorer's table to get into the game. But when Vandy is good, the place is loud, and "Memorial Magic" kicks in. You know a crowd is affecting the game when the players can feed off the energy and the fans seem to "will" the home 5 to hit shot after shot and make stop after stop. There were only a handful of games where Memorial Gym got to an elite level while I was in college, most notably the upset of #1 Florida in 2007 (a game known just as much for a slapfight on the baseline between Joakim Noah and Kevin Stallings).
The nature of The 592 is that the majority of teams on the list are in college basketball -- almost 60%. So while this isn't intended to be a basketball blog, it happens that most of the games I'll see will indeed take place on the college hardwood. This will unfortunately involve a lot of bad basketball, and with it, some really bad college basketball crowds. It will also take me to some of the most glamorous venues and most electric home-court advantages in the game. Vanderbilt's Memorial Gym looks really weird on TV -- the crowd is set back from the sideline, the benches are on the endlines instead of the sidelines, and the student section is "sunken" below the floor level (this all because it was originally built as a combination basketball stadium/theater, leading to many SEC fans calling it "The Opera House of Doom"). The home-court advantage at Memorial Gym, though, is quite remarkable given the small size of Vanderbilt's fan base and student body. Other SEC fans will tell you this is solely because of the end zone benches, where coaches have to yell all the way down the court to get plays called and players have to sprint to the scorer's table to get into the game. But when Vandy is good, the place is loud, and "Memorial Magic" kicks in. You know a crowd is affecting the game when the players can feed off the energy and the fans seem to "will" the home 5 to hit shot after shot and make stop after stop. There were only a handful of games where Memorial Gym got to an elite level while I was in college, most notably the upset of #1 Florida in 2007 (a game known just as much for a slapfight on the baseline between Joakim Noah and Kevin Stallings).
It's not the best home-court advantage in college basketball (that would be Rupp), but in my mind, it's up there. It's hard to know how many truly "elite" venues there are until you actually experience them, but I know there's only one that I've seen meeting that standard -- Rupp Arena. There are also those venues that have virtually no effect on the game whatsoever -- either it's too small, the fans make no noise or they cheer at the wrong time (looking at you, Philips Arena), or the team is so bad that everyone in there is just checked out. A different venue can have different feels to it based on how good the team is and who they're playing. As I see it, there are five different levels of college basketball crowds:
Level 1: The Rob Schneider. Always a complete dud, but really, you knew that going in. Yes, these crowds may make some noise, but when there's really only 400 people in the place, does it really matter? If the only fans are the players' immediately family, girlfriends, and entourage, then you know you have a problem. This level is usually reserved for the tiny arenas at small schools that you never see on TV, but the right combination of fan apathy, unmet expectations, and students asking "Wait, we have a basketball team, too?" can bring a Big-6 team down to this level.
Level 2: The Ashton Kutcher. A team with lots of potential, unlimited resources, but for some reason keeps putting out dud after dud. Auburn, I'm looking at you. Level 2 schools have all the potential -- good-sized stadium, unlimited athletic department resources, large student body, the occasional stud recruit or two. But for some reason, no one ever shows up. Sure, there are diehards, but the place is usually only about half full. Without a true basketball tradition, fans don't know when to cheer, how to affect the game, and how to properly heckle opposing players with toeing-the-line comments involving their mothers' and sisters' first names. In the South, this doesn't matter, because it's still warm enough during basketball season to see sorority girls sunning on the roof once in a while. If you go to BC ... well, I'm sorry.
Level 3: The "Dating Drew Barrymore." Looks easy and totally not dangerous at first glance. But once you're in there, you don't know what you've gotten yourself into, you might not make it out alive, and you might never be the same man afterwards. There's no shame losing at Davidson if you have to deal with a tiny gym, 5,200 maniacal fans who've gone to approximately 34,579 consecutive home games, no chance in hell of your team's fans getting their hands on tickets, and ohbytheway a team that contends for its conference title every single year. But it looks bad to those who only see the score and concern themselves with things like "RPI" and "Bracketology." There's a reason Duke won't play there -- the two teams' game "at" Davidson this year is in the spacious Time Warner Cable Arena in downtown Charlotte, where it will be 75% Duke fans. The right small schools, cramped arenas, and crazy fans can make a Level 3 a truly electric atmosphere, one that leaves you shaking your head asking "How did we lose to THEM?" But those of us who have been there -- we understand.
Level 4: The James Bond. Always solid, occasionally putrid, often spectacular. Level 4 crowds can be a regular occurrence for many Big-6 teams -- including Vanderbilt -- that are solid year after year and have a stout loyal following. They can also be the product of a mediocre team having a great year or playing the right team on the right night, with lots of upset potential. Most of your court-stormings are the product of a Level 4 that falls in this latter category. The difference between a Level 4 and a Level 3 crowd is that Level 4s often feel like an unstoppable tidal wave of energy -- a Level 3 crowd can be silenced with a good run, especially if you have a superior team, but Level 4 crowds hang in there. The crowds may not always be the most deafening, but they know when to step up and can easily help turn a 6-0 run into a 16-0 run. Before you know it, the head coach is abusing his players on the sideline. If your opponent is good enough, they will know how to prepare for a Level 4, but the combination of noise, delirious upset-minded fans, and a decent-to-great team can often overwhelm them -- and the refs.
Level 5: The Tom Hanks. The elite. Only 8-10 schools can fit this mold -- they're truly the best of the best, with very few (if any) dud crowds in the mix. I've seen Rupp Arena in person for a BIG game (Vandy coming in undefeated in '08), and everything about a Level 4 crowd is amplified: the noise is deafening after every basket and every time the other team has the ball, and every 3-pointer that caps off a 9-0 run makes you feel like the roof is about to blow off. Combine a Level 5 crowd with the right opponent in a big game, and you shouldn't be able to hear yourself think for about 60% of the game. The only crowds I can comfortably throw into this mix right now (at least, those schools that are Level 5 on an annual basis) are Duke, UNC, and Indiana. The other spots are up for grabs.
So how does this work? It's about how good the crowd is on that particular night, rather than fitting every school into these categories. Kentucky's crowd is always a 5. Vandy's was a 4 most of last year, but might fall to a 2 for most games this year. A team like Illinois this year could deliver a Level 5 crowd against the right opponent -- top 10 matchup, students in full force, hated Big 10 rival, etc. The Road to 592 has seen predominantly SEC crowds to this point, most of which rate as a 2 with the exception of Tennessee and Kentucky. But this scale will be put to good use for the remainder of the 347 venues out there.
(Click here for Part II, a review of MTSU's thrilling win over Ole Miss)
(Click here for Part II, a review of MTSU's thrilling win over Ole Miss)
--The Road to 592 is a pipe dream started by a diehard Atlanta fan with a sparse history of truly great sports atmospheres (being Atlanta and all). Read up on my unending pursuit here and check out the full list of venues here. For those sick of conference realignment, you can also relish in another pipe dream of mine -- the 28-team SEC. Follow me on Twitter @andrewhhard.
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