Last Thursday, when the women’s basketball team played California at McArthur Court, I had a revelation. Ironically enough, it started with me hitting my head. Allow me to explain.
As I walked down a hallway to the media room, I stopped to spit my gum out in a trash can. Apparently, I leaned too far over the bin and slammed my forehead on a vent that sat directly next to it. My head searing in a mixture of pain and embarrassment, I cursed Mac Court for having put a trash can right next to a vent.
Now, admittedly that whole incident was my fault. I was a klutz, and I paid for it with a nice little bump above my eye. But as I watched the rest of the game, I began to think about all of Mac Court’s weird intricacies. Like, for instance, the time when a live bat found its way into the building. Or that many of the views in the upper deck are obstructed in some way.
There’s also the possibility that if the gym ever gets rowdy again (which is debatable, given how this season has started), the place could crumble to pieces.
As I thought about all of this (when really, I should have been watching the game) I began to realize how much I’m going to miss Mac Court. Call me an old-timer, but I’ve always enjoyed the traditional, dangerously ancient arenas more than the shiny, corporate-laced shopping malls that have invaded the modern sports world. I am, after all, a Cubs fan. If Wrigley Field ever gets torn down, I’ll probably cry.
To me, there’s something special about older stadiums. They have their own personalities, their own stories to tell. You look out at the playing field, and you can almost feel the history staring right back at you. It sounds corny, but I honestly believe this.
Now, I’ve only been in Oregon for the last year and a half. Growing up in Chicago, I knew little about Mac Court and all of its history. So I admit, it sounds a little phony for me to be whining about how much I’ll miss something I barely know. But the truth is, I do feel like I know Mac Court. It doesn’t take long to establish a connection with a place like that. If a sports arena is special, you know right away, and Mac Court is definitely one of a kind.
It is also part of a dying breed.
Now, more than ever, America is immersed in the JumboTron era, where hot dog races draw more attention than the game itself. Nothing represents this sad truth more than Jerry Jones’ Cowboys Stadium. The $40 million high definition television screen is almost as big as the field, and the game seems to take a backseat to the stadium experience.
That, whether you like it or not, is the era we are living in. Mac Court is just the latest of the older arenas to get the axe. There will certainly be more to come. To be fair, I understand that it costs boatloads of money to keep Mac Court functional, and it would have to be replaced eventually.
But that doesn’t mean I can’t be sad to see it go. Sure, part of me is excited to see Matthew Knight Arena and just what kind of stadium $200 million can buy. Yet, the sentimentalist in me finds it hard to let go.
That, more than anything, is why I am writing this column. My goal for the rest of this season is to enjoy Mac Court as much as possible, while I still can. I encourage the rest of you to do the same. I’ll be the first to admit, I haven’t done my part this year. Aside from games I’ve covered, I haven’t spent much time in the building.
That will soon change, and I hope that other fans will come to a similar conclusion. Maybe you don’t want to watch the Ducks (it has been more than two weeks since either the men or women have won a game), but if nothing else, come to appreciate the beauty of Mac Court. It won’t be around for much longer.
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