I can’t remember the first time I visited the Fieldhouse for a game. I’m not even 100 percent sure what the first season was. What I can tell you is I’ve spent more time there than any building besides my grade schools, homes and current workplace. Yes, I’ve spent more time inside the limestone walls of Allen Fieldhouse than the church I grew up in. I’m not sure this makes my creator all that happy but at least there’s a sense of spirituality inside the Fieldhouse. Yes, it’s like church.
Church is a place for meditation, joy, fellowship, etc. When my time finally came to be a student at the University of Kansas, I experienced the Fieldhouse full circle. Sure, there were games I’ll always remember from before being a student. Sitting in the front row for KU’s historic comeback against defending champ UCLA comes to mind. I was there as a 9-year-old watching Jacque Vaughan take the ball the length of the court to spin through two defenders for a contested layup to take the lead after being 19 points down.
I was sort of taken aback when during the first semester of my freshman year there were students gathering a few days prior to the first exhibition game at the Fieldhouse. A few of my dorm mates from Lewis Hall and I made our way down from Daisy Hill only to find about 75 people already camping out at the Fieldhouse. We put our name on the camping group list so we’d be amongst the first few hundred people to kick off the season against Fort Hayes St. Announced attendance, 16,300. Mind you, this was the year after a crushing defeat to Bucknell in the first round of the NCAA Tournament. There were mumblings amongst the student body and on message boards about whether or not Coach Self was the man for the job.
Camping at Allen Fieldhouse was surreal. Growing up, I was just a devoted fan going to every game he could with his father. College sport is beautiful. This freshman class I’d watch grow into a championship team was my peers. I had class with them, went to the same bars and restaurants and was there to say “what’s up” when I was camping by the Coke machine next to the locker room. I remember the story of Sherron Collins walking into a lecture hall late and being welcomed by the professor. The professor says “Welcome Sherron, glad you could join us. Have a seat.” Sherron takes a look up at the auditorium then turns to the professor and says, “Ain’t no seats” and walks out. A few games later, a camping group adopted the moniker “Ain’t no seats” and would chant it at Collins.
A few weeks before my sophomore year, I received a call from a relative with an interesting opportunity. After a brief interview’ish meeting, I agreed to work for Student Athlete Support Services at the University of Kansas Athletic Department. Looking back, it really was a ridiculous way to make money as a student. I’d follow athletes around and sign them into class and worked the desk evenings during their tutoring sessions. Sure, I was only making $7.25/hr, but who wouldn’t take a detour after a morning full of journalism classes to welcome a few 5-star recruits to their Econ 104 class? Sherron seemed surprised his first year on a day I checked him into class then later to see I was hanging outside the locker room as he made his way to the court for practice.
Mid-way through my time at the University of Kansas, I was completely immersed in the culture. I’d been a student for two years and was now working toward a degree in Journalism. As a fan, I was still waiting for a breakthrough. Early my junior year, it came from an unexpected place. The church was dormant at the time so I was spending my Saturdays in what looks sort of like a beautiful park with a football stadium in the middle. The football team was on a roll, winning its first 11 games. Its twelfth game against hated archrival Missouri would be arguably the biggest stage of any sporting event between the two schools. After losing, the campus was deflated. A day later, Allen Fieldhouse was open for business as yet another highly ranked Jayhawk basketball team was kicking off its season. Eerie would be a good way to describe the atmosphere. The Jayhawks limped along for an overtime victory against an unranked Arizona team.
Our collective thoughts as a University were still focused on the football team. Perhaps it would serve as inspiration for the basketball team as the calendars turned to 2008. Aqib Talib became the BMOC because of “The Pick 6,” a feat not easy for a football player at KU. With that new trophy full of oranges taking up space at the Fieldhouse’s Hall of Athletics, it was time for the basketball team to deliver some hardware of its own.
The season went on as many others have. There were incredible highs and incredible lows. There was of course the annual ‘players only’ meeting after a crushing loss to a mediocre Oklahoma State team. The Jayhawks would go on to win Big 12 outright as well as the post-season tournament. We don’t hang individual banners for conference championship though at Allen Fieldhouse and the 1988 banner was looking lonely.
After wrapping up another season of camping, studying, cheering and celebrating at the Fieldhouse, it was time for the NCAA Tournament. The Jayhawks were once again a 1-seed, their bracket seeming more open than the previous year when the Jayhawks played a road game against the 2-seed in the Elite 8. It’s easy to become a bit cynical after picking the Jayhawks to win it all in so many bracket challenge contests. Nevertheless, Dad planned ahead for a trip to San Antonio to watch the Jayhawks do what they haven’t done in 20 years.
I remember sitting down late in the Championship game against Memphis and watching Dad put away his binoculars. This was a sign, a sign that yet another year had come and gone with no Championship banner. I peeked through the UCLA fans in front of me and watched as Sherron Collins stole an inbounds pass to later receive the ball back for his biggest play as a Jayhawk. The same shy kid I welcomed to his first Econ 104 class had made the biggest play of the year to keep hopes alive on the biggest stage imaginable for a student athlete.
Derek Rose was perhaps the best college player I ever had the privilege of watching in person. He was going Carmelo Anthony on KU. The short stocky kid from Chicago knew him though. Sherron was equal to the challenge in a way Darren Collison of UCLA wasn’t just two days prior. I again took a seat as Rose made an impossible step back three pointer off the glass to dash any hope. Scratch that, it was only a two. After further chipping into the lead, the future NBA MVP was at the line with just a few seconds left to secure a Championship. Clank. The first free throw bounced off the iron. Sherron would take the inbounds pass, the shot clock turned off, down three. We all knew the play. There were plenty of opportunities to rehearse against the likes of Texas and USC the past few seasons. We knew the play and we knew it was going in. “Chalmers for the tie….. GOT IT!”
Again, it was Collins. My favorite player when I was a student and perhaps my choice for starting point guard on the all-time Jayhawk greats team had found a way to get by Derrick Rose for a hand off to Mario Chalmers. The game was over before overtime could get started. “We just say, ‘let your nuts hang.’ Just let’em hang,” said Darnell Jackson. Who knows that that really means but everyone knew who’d win the extra five minutes.
I finally had THE moment every true fan waits for. That moment when all the years of buying new apparel, driving to and from Lawrence, camping for four hours the evening before a mid-term and waking up at 5:45 a.m. for morning roll call proved to be worth it.
My celebratory drink on the River Walk at San Antonio was a Negro Modelo. I don’t know why I picked it but it’s something I’ll remember like I remember the first beer I ever ordered at a bar (Rolling Rock). Dad was sitting across the table, making the first phone call since the game had ended. I could hear him talking to my Grandpa (known as Popo in the Goff clan). Popo had seen the Jayhawks win in ’52 as well as a heartbreaking loss to North Carolina in ’58. Dad had seen Danny and the Miracles in ’88 and now I had witnessed Mario’s miracle shot.
One hundred thousand people lined Massachusetts Street in Lawrence to welcome back the National Champions. I lived about a mile away at the time and drove down to Mass St. to meet the family. At least, I attempted to meet them. I parked closer to my apartment than downtown because of the crowd already gathering for the parade. The power of sport and devotion to one’s alma mater is undeniable. In a town of 80 thousand people, 100 thousand gathered on a single street to express their gratitude and congratulate the victors.
It’s my senior year and I’m at church, at Allen Fieldhouse for the first time in my final year at the University of Kansas. There’s celebration, a sermon and ceremony. I’m in a rather lonely position above the other 16,299 people there and operating a spotlight. My job, make sure the 2008 National Championship banner is well lit as it ascends to its permanent position inside Allen Fieldhouse.
