Bustling inside a warm gymnasium foyer, folks stomp their feet, brush snow off their coats and smile.
A friendly ticket taker greets them, along with the smell of buttery popcorn and the high school bands blaring rendition of “China Grove” by the Doobie Brothers.
Standing at the entrance --just under the No Pop in the Gym sign -- they scan the crowded bleachers, looking for friends or for a seat.
They settle in for 32 minutes of action. It’s their team against their arch rival. Anticipation mounts.
Ah. There’s nothing like an evening of high school hoops.
Bright red and blue and green signs scattered over the walls welcome the visiting team and encourage the home team.
The opposing coaches meet on the sidelines near midcourt, shake hands and turn to watch warmups. Arms akimbo, they lean back and chat.
Managers rush around, setting up water bottles and straightening towels. Scorekeepers bend over their books, inking in the lineups. Statisticians check their pencil points. Assistant coaches adjust their ties. Timers and announcers wait.
Buzzzz.
The teams line up by their coaches and the crowd unites on its feet, singing the National Anthem. The starters are announced.
Finally. Game time.
Funny, but this is when some of those smiling, happy fans disappear. Somehow, the tipoff gives them a license to be rude, obnoxious and immature.
And I’m being diplomatic here.
Take a recent game I attended. An official whistled, signaling an offensive foul. Immediately a forty-something man behind me stood up and screeched, “You idiot! That’s not a foul.”
His blonde beard contrasted sharply with his burning red face. The tendons bulged in his neck as he showered those around him with spittle and screams.
We ducked.
Then there’s another area fan. He went to an opposing school gym to watch a game and ended up spewing obscenities. Really.
“The home athletic director came over to me and said, ‘He’s your fan. You get rid of him,’ ” reported the athletic director of the visiting team. “I went up to him, gave him his $3 back and told him he had to leave.
“Heck, it wasn’t even my home game. The money came out of my pocket.”
If all it takes is $3 to get rid of ‘em, I would do it too.
Or how about this one? A woman stood during a timeout and yelled at the coach of her son’s team, “Get that (point guard) outta there. He can’t even dribble.”
Yikes.
At another game, a seventh-grade boy seated next to me kept calling the opposing players crude names. He was old enough to know better. When I was his age, I knew better.
“Does your mother know you talk like that?” I finally asked him.
My answer came in his silence.
This 13-year-old kid learned to talk like that from someone. Maybe from a parent or from a friend’s parents. Or maybe at a Division I or professional sporting event.
Hey, these are high school athletes -- 15, 16 and 17-year-old boys and girls. Find another place for your petty whining and booing.
“I think of high school athletic events as an extension of the classroom,” another area athletic director told me at a recent game. “The students and athletes are learning here. Many times the way a parent behaves at a game is not what we want our kid s to learn.”
No kidding.
Sure, it’s great when parents get involved and show up at contests to support their kids. And not every parent is a poor sport. Some are, though.
Do they honestly think their screaming at an official is going to change a call? Will the official stop the game, march over and say, “You’re right. I do need a new pair of glasses.”?
Yes, officials make mistakes. Coaches and players do, too.
They aren’t intentional ones.
Kids aren’t getting paid to be out there. Coaches and officials don’t haul in the big bucks, either. In fact the main reason they do what they do is to have fun. They enjoy the sport.
The same goes for the fans, I’m sure. Passion and love for a particular school is a good thing. Rivalries and sold-out games and showdowns between unbeaten teams are great.
When enthusiasm turns into venom and hatred, the high school game is no longer fun.
If ignorant, obnoxious fans suck all the fun out of the game, what happens next?
No more officials to referee the games. No more coaches to direct and lead the teams. No more kids trying out.
What then?
The empty bleachers, littered with cups and candy wrappers, will be silent but for the echoes of taunts and jeers.
The scoreboard, unlit.
The clock, still.
—Jane Bos
Jane Bos is a prep sports writer for the Grand Rapids Press.