Last night, I found myself in the stands as the Bearkat men’s basketball team played the McNeese Cowboys. It was a pivotal game, as a Bearkat victory would ensure them as the No. 1 seed in the Southland Conference.
Orange pride oozed in the atmosphere, and the smell of citrus filled the coliseum. There was so much orange that almost everyone got a helping of Vitamin C.
The lights were bright and the fans yelled in boisterous fashion. But, as hundreds of fans yelled, “Defense! Defense!”, I sat in my chair with my netbook in my lap, seemingly void of emotion and showing no school spirit.
It wasn’t that I didn’t want to join in the spirited festivities. I love SHSU, athletic prowess, the Orange Pride dancers and loud noises. I was able to find all of these wonderful things at Johnson Coliseum. However, I had yet to find a topic for my column by the time the game was supposed to start.
Destiny had left me few options, and I had no choice but to merge them all with the hopes of a positive outcome for everyone.
-A finished column
-A Bearkat victory
-A Sprite and a hot dog with mustardmaybe some chili as well
My journalistic duties coupled with procrastination crippled my school spirit, thus restricting my attention to 13 inches of technologic diversion. I tried to sit as far up as possible so I could finish my column without seeming out of place, but there were just too many people to do so.
A cheerleader gave me a quizzical look as I tried to type while standing.
Though I was a lone journalist in a sea of rowdiness, I was able to find fish out what I needed.
I felt a strange sense of community at which every aspect of SHSU was represented. There were the elderly Bearkats that purchased their season tickets, and next to their section were the freshmen, who recklessly proclaimed “Eat Em Up Kats!”.
Members of the Pi Kappa Alpha blazoned their “Pike Pride” with fraternity letters, while their feminine Alpha Delta Pi counterparts dawned the spirited simplicity of orange shirts.
And while students from Huntsville High gleaned at the dazzling delight of the Orange Pride dancers, a group of Japanese exchange students got their first taste of Division II NCAA Men’s Basketball.
It seemed like there was something for every spectator, no matter what stereotype they fell into. I was certain we all would scatter to our destinations once the final whistle blew, but for a few hours we all had something in common.
Orange Pride.
As the ballers battled on the court, I raged on my lap top in literary labor. A part of me likes to think that the entire coliseum was cheering for the successful competition of my column.
“Eat em up Brad!”
But the honest parts of me know that didn’t happen. All self-gratitude aside, I would say it was a favorable night for everyone involved.
Bearkats Won. Column done.