Maybe the college you attended was an athletic powerhouse. You still follow them today, via March Madness, bowl games, national TV, perhaps the occasional recruiting scandal.
This has not been the case for me.
However, I found myself at the “Tear It Up” women’s/men’s Division III basketball doubleheader on Friday, January 27, 2012, at the Jerome S. Coles Sports Center. The home-team New York University Violets would face my alma mater, the Carnegie Mellon Tartans.
There were definitely sports played at my university; it just wasn’t a very big deal. The college teams that get national press are all Division I. Division III is so distant from that, I’m not entirely sure there even is a Division II. When I was a freshman, CMU football received national coverage only once; a short mocking piece in Sports Illustrated about “Diskette Day.” Yes, I was in attendance.
I knew a few guys on the football team: Craig Roeder from Phillipsburg, New Jersey, who lived on my freshman floor; Marvin Germany, still a buddy today; and Mike Hession. My buddy Todd and I would admiringly refer to him behind his back as “Big Mike,” but I guess in the grand scheme of things he wasn’t all that huge. And Craig and Marvin were, you know, regular-size people.
My freshman year (1987–88) also marked the formation of the University Athletic Association. This included such fearsome programs as Brandeis, New York University, and Diskette Day local rivals Case Western Reserve. I do remember going to see the Tartan basketball squad take on NYU—perhaps their first match-up since the 1930s.
When we wanted to see real college sports, we headed up Forbes Ave. to the University of Pittsburgh campus. There we could see future underwhelming NBA player Charles Smith. I’ll always remember some Pitt cheerleaders coercing me to purchase some sort of button. Todd and I joked that it could’ve read “A pretty girl just suckered me into buying this button.” Then there was Pitt Panther football: Big full stadium where we were handed masks-on-a-stick of future NFL All-Pro running back Craig “Ironhead” Heyward. For a game against Penn State, there were illicit T-shirts of Calvin (sans Hobbes) peeing on “Happy Valley.” Oh man we thought that was hi-larious.
Back on our campus, I was on a very “international” intramural team formed with pals who were mostly engineers. We were the Smodnocs. Just one game sticks out in my mind, but that’s because I scored my only goal in an organized soccer career that dated back to second grade.
What else? They built a new stadium while I was there, which people seemed to like I guess. The first year after I graduated, I would check the CMU football results in USA Today, which listed scores for every college in the country. And then… nothing. For two decades. Until an invite came from the New York chapter of the Alumni Association. I haven’t been a very active alum. I think I went to one prior Association event: A concert at a private residence by Sam Prekop of indie heroes The Sea and Cake. (Sam’s dad was then the dean of our College of Fine Arts.) That was pretty cool.
But now, I don’t know, something brought me back into the fold. Maybe it’s that I have a lot of free time. Perhaps it was the complimentary admission and promise of snacks. I’m not sure. But I reserved a spot, and when the day finally came, dug out my long-retired CMU sweatshirt. And headed into enemy territory.
Interestingly, most of the alums on line seemed older; I was expecting people in their early 20s. (Are recent college grads not moving to New York anymore? Fallout of the failed economy?) We signed in, received name tags, a ticket, and a cardinal-red towel. A reception would be held between the evening’s two games. OK, that’s when they’ll hit us up for money.
But there were probably too many of us for a one-on-one appeal: An email said that nearly 150 alums had pre-registered for the games. Entering the field-house level, we were instructed where CMU alumni would sit, directly behind our players’ bench.
According to the program, the outlook was not good for either of the Tartan squads. Our women’s team had lost 17 consecutive games to NYU, not winning in New York since 1990–91, my senior year. This season, the Tartans were 6–10 overall, with an 0–5 mark in the UAA. The Violets, 9–7 and 1–4 in the UAA, seemed to have the edge on their home floor.
Not tonight, though. The Tartans dominated from beginning to end, led by 18 points from junior Emily Peel. In front of cheering alums, CMU came away with an impressive 65–48 victory.
With a half hour before game #2, we headed to the alumni reception, held in a fencing room on the sweat-scented facility’s second floor. A line formed in front of stacks of pizza boxes (pies cut into sixteenths) and aluminum trays of salad and baked ziti. There seemed to be no escape as university officials called for attention. Oh no, here comes the hard sell. First the director of athletics, but she let us off the hook. Ah, but then it was the vice president of campus affairs, an eternally youthful fellow employed by CMU for 30 years who always reminded me of Hoover from Delta House. But still no pleas to donate. That was left to the new associate vice president for alumni relations and—dun-dun-dun-duuuh—annual giving. I have to say, though, he was pretty mellow about it, and we were back in the gym for the player introductions, NYU alma mater, and the national anthem.
It soon became clear that the men’s team would have more of a challenge versus NYU. The Violets were ranked 17th in Division III, with a overall 14–1 record and 4–1 in the UAA. CMU, on the other hand, were 6–10 and only 1–4 against UAA competition. This could be a long 40 minutes. And yet, after some initial struggles, the Tartans built up a solid lead, ahead by as many as 14 points early in the second half. CMU relied on excellent perimeter shooting.
But the Violets wouldn’t say die in their packed arena. NYU kept chipping away at the lead, paced by 23 points from big bearded Jewish senior Andy Stein. If I was an NYU alum, he would absolutely be my favorite player.
I was starting to feel nervous, antsy, and not just because the annual-giving guy was now sitting next to me on the bleachers. The momentum had clearly shifted. NYU’s purple-clad home fans stomped and chanted. Our defense was porous and on the other end, our shots were not dropping. We were getting sloppy on the fundamentals. “If we’re so good from the perimeter, why do we keep missing from the line?” I asked the grey-mustachioed fellow behind me. “Too close?” he posited.
The Violets cut the deficit to 1 point, and then were down by 2 when a foul sent the Tartans to the charity stripe with 1.3 seconds remaining. I was literally on the edge of my seat. CMU 70, NYU 68: Sinking both free throws would seal the victory. And… he missed the first. Arrgh! CMU called a quick timeout and planned an intentional miss on the second shot, with hopes of running out the clock. But NYU immediately grabbed the rebound and tossed up an 85-foot prayer that… fell just short. We won! We won! All energy was drained from the arena except for our pack of alumni, clapping and cheering. It was a thrilling win and I was ecstatic. What was this strange feeling I was experiencing? Could it possibly be… school spirit?!? Huh! How about that.
Jack Silbert, curator