Enter the Phog
I love basketball. I was a Portland Trail Blazers fan since before I can remember, and playing/watching basketball filled many hours during my formative years. It was by no fault of my parents. They weren't intent on brainwashing me so that I might become some super athlete someday. I just recognized very early in life that basketball is a beautiful game, fun to play and watch.
I have many fun memories of my dad taking me to Blazers games in the old Memorial Coliseum as a kid. I got to see all of the greats play. Bird, Magic, Ewing, Dominique, Spudd Webb, David Robinson. I even got to see Jordan go against Drexler. Twice. The highlight of all highlights was on June 7, 1992. That was the day my dad surprised me by taking me to Game 3 of the NBA finals. Bulls vs. Blazers. All 12,000 people in the stands were going nuts as the game was being played out on the national stage for millions to watch. Amazing.
This past weekend things came full circle, so to speak. Saturday morning one of my friends called and offered me two free tickets to the University of Kansas basketball game. My parents happened to be in town, so my dad and I got to spend the evening taking in a game on one of the most hallowed pieces of basketball ground in the world.
We made sure to get to Phog Allen Fieldhouse over and hour early, because neither of us had attended a game there before. There was something really sweet about walking past the statue of James Naismith on the way into the Fieldhouse, and then checking out all of the trophies and history that were on display.
As a basketball lover, the night was amazing. The band, the chants, the popcorn. Looking up in the rafters and seeing some historical names with their retired numbers (i.e. Wilt Chamberlin). Getting chills before the game when the whole crowd started eerily chanting "Rock, Chalk, Jayhawk, K...U...). Feeling the gym shake when the student sections started jumping in unison and the people in the rafters began banging on the old-school heating ducts. It was crazy and it was loud and it wasn't even Big Monday. More than anything, it was a boy and his dad soaking up a little piece of basketball history.
Fair Dinkum
I have many fun memories of my dad taking me to Blazers games in the old Memorial Coliseum as a kid. I got to see all of the greats play. Bird, Magic, Ewing, Dominique, Spudd Webb, David Robinson. I even got to see Jordan go against Drexler. Twice. The highlight of all highlights was on June 7, 1992. That was the day my dad surprised me by taking me to Game 3 of the NBA finals. Bulls vs. Blazers. All 12,000 people in the stands were going nuts as the game was being played out on the national stage for millions to watch. Amazing.
This past weekend things came full circle, so to speak. Saturday morning one of my friends called and offered me two free tickets to the University of Kansas basketball game. My parents happened to be in town, so my dad and I got to spend the evening taking in a game on one of the most hallowed pieces of basketball ground in the world.
We made sure to get to Phog Allen Fieldhouse over and hour early, because neither of us had attended a game there before. There was something really sweet about walking past the statue of James Naismith on the way into the Fieldhouse, and then checking out all of the trophies and history that were on display.
As a basketball lover, the night was amazing. The band, the chants, the popcorn. Looking up in the rafters and seeing some historical names with their retired numbers (i.e. Wilt Chamberlin). Getting chills before the game when the whole crowd started eerily chanting "Rock, Chalk, Jayhawk, K...U...). Feeling the gym shake when the student sections started jumping in unison and the people in the rafters began banging on the old-school heating ducts. It was crazy and it was loud and it wasn't even Big Monday. More than anything, it was a boy and his dad soaking up a little piece of basketball history.
Fair Dinkum
i dont like ku.
so i'm happy.