Stanford game forces fan to watch from wrong side

  Jeff Kmiotek Jeff doesn’t know what he
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The bug stains on my windshield can only mean one thing. I drove
up to Stanford for Saturday’s big game. But this trip was a
trip for one main reason ““ I was behind enemy lines.

Since Maples Pavilion holds about 230 people, I couldn’t
get a seat in UCLA’s section. But I could manage a seat in
the Stanford student section, where everyone must wear a special
Stanford shirt with a big “6” on the back. I scrounged
up the shirt as I began to watch my team from the other side, from
a new perspective.

First, I wore a color my body hadn’t seen in over five
years, and I know my skin was mad at me. I hate red. I eat green
apples, ignore redheads and root for the bad wolf with those large
eyes he has.

The scene outside the game differed from UCLA. Here, we stand in
an unorganized line, moving about and yukking it up. But at
Stanford, everyone was still and proper. In fact, the only people I
saw on cell phones were UCLA’s players after the game. Half
the crowd was reading, 40 percent were thinking, and the rest were
discussing Descartes.

As the game began, I expected the crowd to blow away the support
shown at Pauley. But they only got really loud when Stanford took
its brief lead. At times, I think I was the Cardinal’s most
vocal supporter. I jumped when they jumped, pointed when they
pointed and yelled for Stanford to go, although I just wanted them
to go away. I booed when the refs made calls you’d expect
from IM refs. I groaned with each Billy Knight three, but relished
the disappointment and heartbreak around me.

And as I stood there, thinking how their name is just a letter
away from “Satanford,” I gazed into a sea of large, red
“6s.” Rows and rows of sixes. Coincidence? Yeah,
probably.

While their fans didn’t amaze me, they did show more
commitment to their team than I see at UCLA. It seems that UCLA
students care more about USAC, coffee trading and grades than UCLA
basketball, and that’s not cool. But it’s not all your
fault. At Stanford, students are littered along the baseline, not
just one section like at UCLA. At Stanford, students can bring in
disparaging signs and banners, while UCLA prohibits even post-it
notes. And at Stanford, students were clad in a uniform color,
while our student store offers white, blue, green, orange, yellow,
gray and blanched almond apparel. What can we do about this? I
don’t know… what?

The game finally ended and my smile inside widened. I got to
take off that shirt, as I completed the second Stanford Prison
Experiment. Zimbardo would have been proud.

I couldn’t wait to get in the shower to scrub the red off,
but first I talked to Billy Knight’s dad and found out the
real reason his son went off for 22 points. The night before, the
squad had dinner at Ray Young’s place, where his mom made
“soul food,” and that got the team going.

I thought I was off the hook for wearing a Stanford shirt until
a local reporter came out of the locker room and told my roommate
and I that “Earl is pissed at you guys.” Apparently, we
were spotted. Earl also said we shouldn’t show our faces at
Pauley. Hey Earl, I meant well and you guys won. So there you have
it.

I wonder what would happen if I sat in other student sections,
although I don’t think I’d last too long. I’d be
found out at USC because I use complete sentences, at Cal because I
shower, at ASU because I’d be sober, at Wisconsin because I
have front teeth and at Alabama because I have front teeth and my
mom is not my aunt.

With that, how “˜bout we start to create more of a home
court advantage for our team. Wear blue, keep standing and lose
your voice. Get some mace and go to Thursday’s game at USC.
And players, we’ll keep yelling as long as you keep showing
heart. I’m off to shower again.