Ladies and Gentlemen, our hearts are on the line.

It is an odd concept, I will be the first to admit it. People, my family included, ask me why I spend eight or nine hours a day waiting in the Spectrum for games to start 14, 15, 16 times a year. I tell them "so I can get front row seats" but the real answer is even more simple than that: because those 8 or 9 hours, 15 times a year, is all I get. Not everybody knows what I mean. Some people really like Aggie basketball. They cheer for the Aggies no matter what, and don't miss a game when they are in Logan. These are what I call "spectators." They come to the games before tip-off, they stay until the end of the game, and they cheer when we do something good. Don't misinterpret me, we need spectators. In fact, I would argue that they make up 95% of our home crowd. But they don't love the Aggies like we do. They don't get why we spend a large portion of our money, time, and most importantly our emotional effort in a basketball team. I don't know exactly where the sagebrush supposedly grows (besides Nevada, the sagebrush state), but you would be hard-pressed to find a "fan" in the front two rows at a basketball game who could say, with a clean conscience, that they don't love the spot (clap clap) where the sagebrush grows. Fans are different than spectators because their night, and even their week, revolves around the result of the basketball game.

Alright, I dropped the L-bomb without explaining it. I've used it before. "You don't really love them" is the stock response, but I do, and I'm sure many of you do too. We have invested our emotions, our hearts, into a team over which we have little control. Maybe this is why we have such a huge home court advantage. In a town without distractions, we have come to rely on our basketball team. The Boise States, Nevadas, and BYUs of the world want nothing more than to break our hearts and to break the hearts of our team. When our girlfriend dumped us senior year after three years of romance and planning what college you would attend together, you could not fight back. You could not yell at her, chant at her, count her steps in left, right, left, rights as she walked away and clap when she finally sat in her little red sports car and drove away. You had to stand there and take it. The Spectrum offers the crowd a place to fight back, and now the SOW takes that fight on the road.

The important thing that sets Utah State apart is the guys on our team. Why doesn't another small town feel as passionate about their team as we do ours? New Mexico State, for example, has been good and Las Cruces doesn't offer too many things besides basketball either. The answer? The men on the team. It is hard to root for a team that finds itself in prison. It is hard to root for a team that has members who are shot, innocent or not, before even arriving in college. For Nevada fans (although they do live in a larger city, Reno), it is hard to root for players who jump ship and join the NBA after two or three years. Aggies stick around.

I remember hearing a story about WAC player of the year Gary Wilkinson. The girl who told me this story was in charge of cleaning the Spectrum floor after practices. She stood in the hallway with the broom and trashcan when a group of players walked by. The group was trying to get Wilkinson to come hang out with them that night. Gary's reply is what set him apart as a person, and maybe even a player. He said, "No thanks guys. My wife is making waffles for dinner tonight."
This man not only was excited about going home to his wife and her waffles, but he felt no shame admitting it to his friends. This is the same kid who drank heavily, did drugs, dropped out of high school (and never played high school ball) and needed the death of a close friend to shock him into shape. He became such a good guy that many people would have trouble believing he ever was anything else. Gary was also in my English class my sophomore year. My teacher, an 80-something year old woman, broke her leg and had trouble getting into the classroom. Gary would wait for her and help her into the class. These are the types of guys that make it easy to cheer for.

I'm not saying other teams don't have good guys too. They do. I'm sure every team is made up mostly of great people. The Aggies give back though. They smile when they see us show up in the thousands for an away game against a Big Sky team. They feel confident in front of us at home, no matter how many points they trail by. They love us the same way that we love them.

These emotional investments brought the real Aggie fans on a roller coaster ride that defied gravity with more ups than downs last season. En route to a 30 win season, the Aggies no longer lost gimme road games. The momentum built and fans and spectators both started making the trips to SUU, UVSC, Idaho State, and eventually, the WAC tournament. I was meant to drive to Reno the morning of our first game. However, the night before, I couldn't sleep so I texted the kids who would be traveling with me. I asked if they wanted to leave right then and there, they said yes, and we were off. We left at 9 PM Logan time and didn't reach Reno until the middle single digit hours of the morning Nevada Time. Thanks to some hospitable Aggie fans who arrived before us, we found a place to sleep for the night.

Everywhere we went that weekend became a battle.

We wore blue and white constantly, but made a point to set us apart from the blue and white of Reno. We hung our UTAH STATE flag in my car window, pointed our UTAH STATE hats in the direction of any Pack fan, and sung the Scotsman as we ate at I-Hop. We arrived at Lawlor for the first game and realized what we were in for. The Nevada fans cheered for Fresno State, but not wholeheartedly because they knew they could not out-decibel the Aggie faithful. The next game, the cheers from Nevada and other schools got a little bit louder as our emotional investment was at risk more than ever. New Mexico State had somehow managed a lead with just seconds left, but Newbold came through. Most of us probably felt guilty afterward. We doubted the Aggies, but it was hard not to. Tyler Newbold, ever the dependable one, broke out of his small shooting slump to save us from heartbreak. It is hard to think about why, but the Aggies likely would have ended up in the NIT if Newbold had not hit that shot. He steadied our hope and we returned the last day to face heartbreak in the face against the Nevada Wolf Pack.

Before tip-off, I felt nauseous. I could not eat the morning of the championship game. It sounds ridiculous, I know, but I promise you that I was not the only one. My friend looked at me and said,
"What is wrong with you?"
I could tell I was pale. My hands were clammy and shaking.
"I'm scared," I told him, and I was.
My year was invested in the emotional stock the Aggies had to offer. I had spent hundreds of dollars on tickets, gas, hotel rooms, food, soda, and medicine to ease the pain that develops from screaming your heart out in as close as literal terms as I dream could be possible. The jump ball went up, the Wolf Pack couldn't hit a shot, and the Aggies raced out to a huge lead. As I cheered, clapped, and chanted (we're the home team. Where are your fans? You can't guard him), my color returned and my hands felt warm again. I was confident again in My team. I was there for them and I knew that although they do not win every game, they wouldn't let me down.

The heartache, though, couldn't be avoided and I knew it.

Like the high school girlfriend with graduation in sight, you knew there was a specific timeline for your heart to stay unbroken. As we drove home from the WAC tournament, some self-called "expert" parroted off the match-ups for the NCAA tournament. When he got to Marquette-Utah State, he paused to say,
"Expect a blowout here."
The two other guys in my car were as outraged as I was, and we even called him up to point out that Utah State had won 30 games that season. He said it didn't matter because our schedule was soft. We agreed to remind him of his words when we beat Marquette in the first round, but I think we knew what was coming.

I had been in bed sick for the entire period of time between the WAC tournament and the NCAA game. I managed to consume enough dayquil to make it out of bed and into the car to drive to Boise and see the Aggies. I hardly slept the night before the game, just like the players and other few hundred fans who had made the trip up. Again, before tip-off, I was terrified. I was pale, nervous, and scarred. I was happy with how far the Aggies had allowed our trip to go though, and I think that at that moment, waiting for the game to begin, I decided a win or a loss, I'd go home content if not happy.

The game ended. We lost by 4 really, but the scoreboard only said we lost by 1 because Jaxon Myaer made a three at the buzzer. Our silence was a stark contrast to the noise the SOW usually delivered. Nobody wanted to leave the stadium. We all sat there, staring at our feet and listening to the squeaking sneakers of Cornell and Mizzou warming up. The entire season had led up to us sitting there. Our lowered grades, our voices we had somehow managed to forget to bring back from Reno, our money, our time, and our love had all been spent. It was worth it.

So now a new season begins. Many expect a result similar to last year, and I admit that I sometimes let myself hope for it. Regardless if we win every game from here on out, or if we finish the season with the lone win over Weber State, the "fans" will be there with the Aggies. Every broken face, foot, finger, of the players is ours as well; every broken heart is our broken heart. We feel for the Newbolds and Jaxons and Poohs of our team. We feel for the walk-ons that never play, because really, they are the heart and soul of the Aggies. They are the hard workers and the ones truly dedicated like we are.

I don't know if this article is a plea to be a fan and not a spectator. I don't know if this article is a thank you to Stew for finding the Gary Wilkinsons of the world. I don't know if this is a defense of my endless hours spent at the Spectrum. But I hope that many of you find pieces of yourself in my words. I intended to title this "Who We Love Most" when I started writing, but the "Who" part is too easy. It is the "Why" that we are constantly searching for, and I think I found the answer. We love Aggie basketball because it loves us back. It might not produce 30 wins every year or a tournament win, but there is nothing better than watching Big Blue drop from the scoreboard, the Aggies run out of the tunnel, or singing the Scotsman with 10,269 of your closest friends.

This is why we love most.

Comments (1)

Name

Email

Website

Title

Comment

smaller | bigger

Subscribe via email (registered users only)

Add Comment