A couple of weeks ago, I headed to McGregor’s Grill and Ale House – a local sports bar that serves as a popular hangout for the few, yet fiercely loyal fanatics of San Diego State basketball – to watch the night’s Aztec game.
My friend was on the phone with one of his other buds, and he replied to a question that I couldn’t hear with, “Yeah, I’m on my way to watch the game with a bunch of Aztec fans.” Pause. “And my friend Mike.”
He had me dead to rights.
I’m from the Bay Area, and we simply don’t care about college sports that much. Our two biggest universities, Cal and Stanford, are famous for academics, not athletes. Where I’m from, people care about the pro teams, like the San Francisco 49ers (who’ve won five Super Bowls) and the S.F. Giants (who contend for the World Series every year) and the Golden State Warriors, who, umm, did I mention that the 49ers have won five Super Bowls?
San Franciscans are used to being in the minority. Most support gay marriage. Most voted for John Kerry. Most really think Margaret Cho is talented.
It felt quite natural for me to be the party pooper at the bar. I moaned and I groaned about the team’s play, even though they won. It wasn’t necessarily the play of the Aztecs but more the play of all college basketball that sets me off.
It’s a credit to my friends that nobody poured a pitcher of beer on my head. I can’t help it; I’ve just never been too hip on watching amateurs perform when I could watch professionals instead. I don’t go to small, dank clubs to try and discover hot new local bands. I go to concerts of groups that have been around for decades. And I mope through their weak opening acts. I don’t even watch American Idol, one of the most popular shows in the country. It’s basically televised karaoke with a mismatched set of judges.
Maybe I’m just spoiled. My favorite NBA team has always been the San Antonio Spurs, who always compete for a championship, so I’m accustomed to watching basketball played at the highest level. I’m not trying to bash anyone here – player or fan. I’m indicting myself.
Maybe I’d have more school spirit if I wasn’t a transfer student and I’d been here the whole four years. Maybe I’d be more passionate if I were younger (not a jaded, 28-year-old fogey).
All I know is that I couldn’t quite figure out why everyone stormed the floor of Cox Arena when the Aztecs beat Wyoming on March 1. Yes, I realize that win clinched the conference title, but aren’t fans supposed to rush the floor only when they beat somebody they’re not supposed to?
I’m not trying to be Ebenezer Scrooge here. I was happy that my friends got the chance to see SDSU in the tournament.
