A couple of weeks ago, I interviewed Oregon guard Micaela Cocks about McArthur Court. Cocks is a senior, and the 83-year-old gym is the only one she will have known in her college career. Perhaps unsurprisingly, she didn’t want to talk about Matthew Knight Arena, rising from the landscape several blocks away.
“I try not to think about it,” Cocks told me.
I can sympathize. I’ve spent four basketball seasons at Mac Court. The memory of my first endeavor into Section 10 was also Oregon’s first Pacific-10 Conference home game of the 2006-07 season, against Stanford. In pregame warm-ups, with roughly 90 minutes to go before the actual contest, someone a few rows ahead of me inquired about Landry Fields’ body development. I knew I was at home.
I have attended more games than I care to count at Mac Court. I have yelled until my voice scratches and returns to normal only the next day. I have jumped so high and so often, I’ve pictured myself falling through the bleachers. I have asked opposing players all the tough questions, from applicable basketball skills to referendums on their physical appearance to relationship statuses and more. I have started chants and I have kept them going one beat too long.
I have experienced joy at Mac Court and I have experienced pain. I have experienced the thrill of an Oregon victory and the agony of a Duck defeat, all in the same weekend. In 2007, I watched from the first row as Oregon suffered a close loss to USC, followed by the Ducks’ stunning upset win over No. 1 UCLA. Which I watched from home. (Still haven’t forgiven my parents — probably never will.)
I have tunneled at Mac Court. I have run down those steps clapping, singing “Mighty Oregon” — and then screaming, flailing, throwing my body with reckless abandon toward the nearest person I see in a yellow shirt. I have slapped the locker room door until my hand goes numb. I have brought it in with the other Pit Crew members as the team prays — and brought it out to further applause for the team and high-fives.
I have camped out at Mac Court. I have waited 14, 17, 20 hours before a game outside its doors. I have worn too many layers and too few. I have stared at passersby from the comfortable confines of the student entrance — what are you looking at? Huh? What’s wrong with you?
I have had great moments with friends at Mac Court. Nothing bonds a group of teenagers and 20-somethings like hours in the bitter cold together. We have watched endless hours of video from YouTube and DVDs. We have debated college football, college basketball, the three major professional sports, recruiting, attractiveness of women, United States intervention into foreign affairs (just kidding), and countless other topics. We never settled a single debate. It was always worth it.
I have helped to create the intimidating atmosphere at Mac Court. I have yelled at opposing players walking off the bus. I have made individual signs and group signs. I have represented everything I stood for at Lavin Lovefests and SI On Campus’ video tour of Eugene with Jenn Sterger. (Any of you freshmen remember her?) I have set the record for largest sign ever brought to a game at Mac Court, against USC two seasons ago. My 3-and-a-half-foot by 5-foot sign listed the full “class schedule” of O.J. Mayo. My record will never be broken, as the athletic department issued an edict that day banning individual signs of that size.
I have hit a game-winning shot at Mac Court. My 16-foot bank shot over sports information director Greg Walker sealed the contest for the Emerald staff in a hard-fought battle. I felt bigger than Tajuan Porter and Aaron Brooks — literally; I’m 6 feet 2 inches —and the Lukes and Fred Jones and that misbegotten stalwart of Oregon basketball, Ray Schafer — figuratively.
Lastly, I owe thanks to Mac Court. That building helped introduce me to literally hundreds of my fellow students, many of whom I am proud to call good friends. I have yelled with them, agonized with them, nearly froze to death with them and bled with them — and throughout it all, we’ve made memories that will endure for the rest of our lives.
I’m going to miss Mac Court. May its spirit live on across campus for generations to come.
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