My husband and I were recently invited to a basketball game by a vendor at his job. I am not really a big sports fan, but when I found out the seats were two rows from the floor, I was extra excited to go. I think I have been that close maybe once before. My lack of interest had me always purchasing $10 seats, if I bought any at all! To be honest, I usually only got to a game if the tickets were free.
The $10 tickets got you in the same section as the free ones, at the highest level of the arena in the “nosebleed seats”. If you jump too high, your hands might hit the ceiling. Your legs ache from all the climbing you have to do to get up there. And there’s usually a bunch of kids; parents trying to show their rugrats a good time without breaking the bank.
The night of the game, I put thought into my outfit. I wore over the knee boots and slim jeans to try and look the part of what I thought the patrons down there would look like rather than my mom jeans and a sweatshirt. I put on a little makeup and actually did my hair. My knees hurt walking down all those steps the same as they had when walking in the opposite direction, but I was still excited to be so close to the action.
I could see the eyebrows of the players, the sweat from their hairlines and even hear them talking with each other. And I knew they would actually be able to hear me when I started to scream my support toward them. After the first basket was made, I was geared to stand up and yell my enjoyment. However, all those around me remained in their seats and gave whispered approval while clapping their hands! For the duration of the game, there was muted applause and conversation from my section and those adjacent to me. It wasn’t until the final quarter when the score was tied and only seconds left in the game, that the crowd in the lower sections started to get pumped and rowdy.
Usually by the fourth quarter, my throat is dry, and my voice is getting raspy. We would have tried to start the wave around the arena at least 4 times with the final one making it more than halfway around. We scream all kinds of nonsense up there because we know no one on the floor can hear anything that we are saying. The shouts usually become words of comradery to the folks around us rather than anything related to the game. We dance to the songs that they play to get the crowd pumped and rap the lyrics over the instrumentals. We sweat up there. We help folks find their dropped phones. We look after their daughter so they can take their son to the bathroom. We become a family.
No such thing down near the floor. Yeah, you heard folks talk about the players and their stats, but not in a way that you could join in and add your two cents. (I don’t know any, but still!) You spoke only with those who rode to the game with you and kept those conversations to a minimum so as not to disturb others. Due to the lack of cheering or jumping up and down, it was cold — causing me to keep my coat on for most of the game. There was no need for slim jeans. The halftime entertainers felt only half the love since no one in the lower sections cheered for their performances.
How. Boring.
I’m not implying that I’ll never sit in such good seats again, but I know I won’t balk at the free tickets either. It might just be that the low ballers know how to party a tad better than the high rollers.
Just saying.
elesjackson 