School spirit, old-time gym give Stanford advantages

  Jeff Agase Agase hopes he still has a
job once the bill gets back to his boss. E-mail him at agase@ucla.edu. Click Here
for more articles by Jeff Agase

SECTION 5, ROW U, SEAT 8, MAPLES PAVILION “”mdash; Fifteen
minutes before tipoff, Stanford’s Casey Jacobsen looked to
his right and saw three grown men dressed like cartoon trees.
Without so much as a glance in their direction, he continued his
warm up.

Welcome to the wacky, loony, head-shakingly unique world of
Maples Pavilion.

But before I get into the particulars of the second stop on my
soiree with the arenas of the Bay Area, I’d be remiss if I
didn’t mention that the whole escapade almost never
happened.

You see, the Daily Bruin gets two press passes for the
“real” basketball writers. I’m not one of
them.

So I asked my esteemed boss, Daily Bruin sports editor Scott
Schultz, if he’d hook me up with a reimbursement for whatever
I spent in negotiation with an “independent ticket
broker.” Shockingly, he agreed.

What a sucker! Playing with the house’s money, I set to
put my expense account to use.

Not surprisingly, Stanford has what amounts to a demilitarized
zone just around Maples where “independent ticket
brokers” aren’t allowed.

Classy. Made me feel like a criminal, or like a public school
rube.

I walked all of five feet and found an entrepreneur ready to
deal.

“So, where are they?” I asked.

“Row U,” he said. “So that’s gotta be,
at least, (counting on his fingers) like, a few rows up, but not in
the back.”

Deal! Charge it to the Daily Bruin!

We walked into the tiny, homespun gym, and proceeded to Row U,
which, according to an always reputable “independent ticket
broker,” wasn’t too far back.

Yeah, not too far. Just the LAST row. And I thought this was an
honest profession.

Oh well. It’s Maples time!

The first thing you notice about Maples is that you could
probably jog a lap all the way around in about a half minute.
It’s that small.

On the bright side, that meant Row U wasn’t bad after all.
Relegated to the corner like children doing time for headhunting a
schoolmate in dodge ball, we still had as good a view as from any
of the blue concourse seats at Pauley.

The second thing you notice about Maples, from anywhere in the
stands, is the wall of black-shirted hooligans, better known around
these parts as the Sixth Man Club. They occupy an entire lower
level section of seats (stop salivating) from one baseline to the
other (I’m serious, control yourself).

The Sixth Man has, without a doubt, the best seats in the house.
For that right, the student purchases season tickets and receives a
snappy black shirt with a “6” on the back. The effect
is truly a thing of beauty.

The Sixth Man puts its prime position to brilliant use. Amid
chants of “FOREARM” to a suspended Matt Barnes was the
efficient distribution of gameday notes and chants to its 600 rabid
fans.

The chants included a particularly clever one:
“Don’t Fire Lavin!”

The back of the sheet displayed a mug shot of Barnes, and
underneath, his charge: “Penal Code 8676: Assaulting a
midget.”

The signs they brought in (yep, they’re actually allowed
to do that) included one of those use-the-acronym-to-write-a-phrase
taunts: “UCLA ““ Unfortunately, your College Lacks
Adequacy.”

Not exactly your typically trivial “CBS ““
Can’t Beat Stanford” sign. And that’s the thing
about Stanford.  Sometimes it’s difficult to separate
the pretension from the organized silliness. But that’s their
thing, and it works well.

The arena seats less than 8,000. Even more than Haas, it screams
old-time high school gym, complete with practice baskets hanging
from the ceiling in plain view and no video replay board.

High rollers get a special row of red seats that look a lot like
what you might imagine would be in the den of a stereotypical
Stanford graduate.

Classy. As we eyed a possible seat upgrade, I heard echoes of
USC fans earlier this year, who without overwhelming evidence,
called me “public school trash.”

In Maples, no such doubt even existed. Just for kicks, though,
we walked around courtside at halftime, eventually making our way
in front of the Sixth Man. We didn’t instigate anything, I
promise.

But the Stanford wolves picked up on our scent in a matter of
seconds. Then began the barrage of insults. One guy tried to trip
me.

“Hey, we do that kind of thing at public school,
too,” I thought. Only their seats are better. And the floor
really does feel like it lies on a fault line, oscillating as the
Bruins tried to put the game away with free throws.

Maples gives Stanford so many competitive advantages it’s
a wonder they don’t just award them automatic wins at
home.

Alas, they do not, although for the last three years (all UCLA
wins) Stanford might’ve wished it were so.

All we wished for was that seat upgrade. In a matter of 30
seconds, we claimed a pair of unused seats, learned they were owned
by someone else, were asked to leave and told, “You’re
not welcome here.”

No big deal. The view of the final score from Row U was just
fine.

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