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Earlier this season at the men’s basketball game against
Georgetown, I saw a disturbing sight: The Olsons. Not just any
Olsons, but Mary Kate and Ashley Olson ““ the ones who kept
fifth graders and dirty old men tuned in to “Full
House” for years.
Few would call these seemingly harmless girls
“disturbing.” But they were sitting in the Pauley
Pavilion Arena level in front of the band, in seats that should
have been filled by crazy guys in beaters and beanies and painted
hockey masks.
Minutes later, actor Stephen Baldwin waltzed in and sat four
rows behind the twins, also in the Arena Level.
It’s bad enough he starred in “The Flintstones II:
Viva Rock Vegas,” but watching him sit on his bum the entire
game, even with UCLA dragging the Hoyas all over the floor, made me
want to whack him over the head with a Flintstones club!
These days you don’t have to sit in the student section
long to figure out that the Pauley mystique has faded to a harmless
rumor. No wonder Stanford’s Casey Jacobsen loves playing
here.
The Athletic Department has the rare opportunity to placate
students while at the same time contributing to the basketball
team’s success. Increase student seating close to the court,
take a short-term financial hit and reap the benefits when student
influence peaks.
Dan Bergman, UCLA Class of ’74, agrees. During the
‘SC game he marched up to my seat (first row, concourse, in
front of the band) to meet those occupying the row he and his
buddies claimed for an entire season 30 years ago.
I pointed to the seats in front of me and asked if they belonged
to students in the ’70s. Bergman said everything on the North
Side belonged to students back then, and the arena level was the
place to be. Those were the days of dinosaurs, when Bill Walton
wielded his short jumper and even shorter shorts, and UCLA simply
did not lose.
“The issue back then wasn’t whether or not
we’d win,” Bergman said. “It was whether
we’d score 100 points and get free soft drinks.”
The Bruins nearly put soft drink companies out of business in
the ’70s, in part because of their talent. However, it also
helped that students were given 3,000 seats per game, a number that
has since dwindled to 1,800. But before you scrawl picket signs in
blood and don ski masks to storm the Athletic Department, keep in
mind that seat appropriation is dictated by student interest.
“This year we have only had three games ““ Kansas,
Stanford and USC ““ where we’ve been tight on student
tickets,” associate athletic director Ken Weiner said.
Most students are not as disappointed in the number of seats as
they are about their location. They’d rather have beachfront
property than three condos in Barstow. Weiner points out that when
the student section was cut down a few years ago, the Athletic
Department subtracted an equal number of seats from each level.
This policy may be fair, but it hurts the team and damages
student interest by limiting arena level seats. Only 250 seats are
available for students in this section. Compare that to the 1,000
arena-level student seats provided at the University of Florida, a
public school just slightly larger than UCLA. They call their
section the Rowdy Reptiles. We should call ours the Banished
Bruins.
So who gets the seats we covet, the ones lining the north face
of the court? Let’s just say the old “Turn Pauley
Blue” slogan should instead read “Turn Pauley
Green.” The section at the far end goes to season-ticket
holders paying more than $400 per seat. Immediately to the west sit
the boosters, who spend $5,000 just for the right to pay $499 for a
seat that they invariably vacate with seven minutes left and the
Bruins down by six. Next to the boosters are recruits and family
members.
The school strategically places recruits in these incredible
seats so they can feel the UCLA aura. Unless they’re cruising
for prepubescent female twins, they should be sitting somewhere
else. By taking student seats, they reduce overall enthusiasm,
making it hard for UCLA to compete with schools hosting larger and
more vociferous student sections.
Case in point: Three years ago I was one of the lucky 250
students to gain floor access to a game. Carlos Boozer, then a
blue-chip recruit, strolled past us on his way to the seats Stephen
Baldwin would later contaminate. When 250 students began chanting
his name he smiled shyly and walked on. I wonder what is was like
when he visited Duke and thousands of the Cameron Crazies yelled
like a pack of gamblers who’d just picked Detroit Mercy to
beat UCLA in the NCAA Tournament.
So the Athletic Department is in a bind. Displace the recruits
and boosters or stifle the students?
“They should put the recruits somewhere else,” UCLA
senior guard Billy Knight said. “The people who cheer the
loudest should have the best seats, and that’s the students
and the families. Not the recruits.”
The plan to renovate Pauley is no more than a dream without
booster funding. It’s clear the school needs donors, but
officials must understand that they, and the team, need
students’ influence too.
The Bruins have lost nine contests in the last three years at
Pauley, including embarrassing defeats to Pepperdine and Cal State
Northridge. Blame Steve Lavin all you want, but it doesn’t
help that the students might as well be gagged and blindfolded when
they occupy less than one-fifth of the floor-level seats.
More important are the long-term benefits of increasing student
influence, even if they come at financial cost. Better recruiting,
improved school image and perhaps even more television time are all
additional benefits of extending the arena level seating to
students.
Weiner says that each year the Athletic Department gets feedback
from student input groups. Perhaps these groups are made up of
cadavers located in the Center For Health Sciences basement because
nothing has changed recently.
It is sad that one of the greatest basketball schools in history
has one of the weakest student sections. I applaud those who camp
out and get crazy. You truly are making the best of what is
available.
Perhaps someday the Athletic Department will look to the
long-term and see the benefits of increasing lower-level student
seating.
Until then I’m stuck looking at the back of the Olson
twins’ heads, wondering what they have that I
don’t.