I have a lot to smile about these days: Ken Griffey Jr. became the anachronistic "Jr." of old last week when he re-inked a contract with the Mariners for one year, which has served as a temporary panacea for baseball that haplessly continues to mop up the A-Rod mess, the Knicks finally agreed to buy out the dormant and unhappy Stephon Marbury (I hope Celtics fans have as much fun rooting for him as I have these past six years!), and the plummeting Rangers fired stoic and ineffective boss Tom Renney, and replaced him with 2004 Stanley Cup-winning coach John Tortorella, in the hopes that the irascible stand-in will be able to light a fire under the struggling club's proverbial rump.
Yet, even with the large influx of good news, there remains something that has been seriously bothering me ever since I returned to the States, and that something can be found right here on campus. Or rather, cannot be found.
It is an absolute privilege to be able to broadcast the play-by-play of the majority of Bowdoin sporting events over the internet every weekend, and an even greater privilege to be able to watch my classmates excel for their respective teams while doing so.
Just by attending game after game over the past two-and-a-half years at this college, I've witnessed stunning upsets like the football team's over Williams last year, a thumping or two of Colby on the ice, and exceptional accomplishments like Eileen Flaherty eclipsing Laura Schultz for first on the all-time scoring list in Bowdoin basketball history, not to mention the countless touchdowns, one-timers, and jump-shots.
But now, as I stand from my perch atop the Sid's lookout balcony, or sit at the webcast table at mid-court in the upper deck of Morrell, the experience feels diluted and incomplete; something is missing. Something glaringly apparent. Something whose absence is, to say the least, disturbing, embarrassing, and quite frankly, unacceptable. Yes, you may have guessed, it is the fans. Or as I like to call them: the missing.
Last weekend the Bowdoin women's basketball team took on Williams in the first round of the NESCAC playoffs at Morrell Gymnasium, and as I prepared my pre-game notes from the broadcast post, I looked across the court to account for the crowd. Attendance had been down nearly every game this season, but I was hopeful that students would opt to venture out in the sunny winter's day to Morrell over bee-lining it to the dungeons of the library.
But what I saw just a couple of minutes before tip-off shattered those hopes. Amid the medium-sized crowd of local Brunswickians and players' parents, in the normally bustling section allotted for Polar Bear Nation, sat no more than ten Bowdoin students who had come out to support their team. Ten students. In a school that comprises more than 1,700 kids, less than 1 percent of them had decided to show up.
There were, of course, more. The pep band boomed away from the upper deck. The football players monitored the foot traffic. And my broadcast partner and camerawoman prepared to go on the air. And in this moment, whether each of us knew it or not, we were presented with a sad, but undeniable truth: there were more student employees at the game than actual student fans.
The same could be said at the Sid last Friday, when the Bowdoin women's hockey team took on Potsdam State in front of a crowd majority of ushers and event staff workers.
Some of us might admit that we would go anyway, regardless of working the games or not. But that isn't the point.
On the fateful day that each of you decided to come to Bowdoin, you, perhaps unknowingly, signed an unwritten agreement that you would support not only your friends and their personal endeavors during your respective careers at this prestigious institution, but your peers, as well, and, the school itself; you are not fulfilling your duty to your friends, peers, and school by staying home.
Now, I understand that some of you aren't sports fans, and it's perfectly fine that you're not. But few of you will be able to say that you don't know someone who plays a sport here. And just like you would appreciate their support in the extracurricular activity that you value the most, so, too, do they.
Last Friday, the women's hockey team continued their remarkable turnaround when they defeated Potsdam State 6-1 to earn their seventh consecutive victory (which has since been extended to eight going into the NESCAC playoffs at Colby this weekend), and we weren't there to share it with them. And I'm sure the men's basketball team would have appreciated a few more fans in their tough loss against Amherst a couple of weeks ago, a game that I feel could have turned in our favor had there been more energy from the crowd. But that's impossible with only five students.
We don't go to a Division I school, but what does that matter? Should our ardor be any less fervent because of that? Of course not. And I know: it's a busy time of year for all of us. But you know who's even busier? How about the athletes? If they can make time to practice, watch film, travel on weekends, practice some more, and play in the games, on top of keeping up with an onerous academic schedule, then you can certainly set aside an hour-and-a-half to watch a basketball game.
While calling the opening round of the playoffs this past Saturday at Morrell, once again bearing witness to the dearth of student fans, I tried to determine just what was causing this unfortunate phenomenon to take place, and the only two theories that I could surmise were that of people not knowing how to get into the gym because of the construction of the new fitness center, and that of pure laziness.
To ensure that it is no longer the former, here are the complicated, labyrinthine directions to Morrell Gymnasium: find the Druckenmiller parking lot and walk into the Gym. And to ensure it's no longer the latter, come out and fulfill your duty by supporting the Bowdoin women's basketball team tomorrow at 2 p.m. in its quest for NESCAC supremacy. The Bowdoin women are currently No. 1 in the conference, now make sure it stays that way.