UNCG vs Miami College Basketball

My wife and I decided to go see UNCG and Miami play basketball last night.  We knew it would be a tough game but after all, we’re both Alumni, and we haven’t seen a game all year (if you don’t count watching it over the web).

In fact, I haven’t been to an actual game since they moved their home court from little Fleming Gym (approx max attendance of 2300) to the Greensboro Coliseum (where the ACC tournament is held every so often, max attendance 23,000).  That’s a big difference in venues.

In the old days when I had first graduated the university, tickets were $6 and for several years, I even had season tickets.  But last night, when I logged online to check things out before we walked out the door, I was shocked.

Tickets on the court floor were $50.  The floor level was $25 and the cheapest thing going was $15 for the upper level.

I told Carmen, then gathered $30 in fives and ones and we headed out the door.

We got there early because I wasn’t sure what to expect.  It’s UNC Greensboro versus Miami, so it was hard for me to guess the turnout.

The most amazing thing happened as we walked up the ramp to the Coliseum.  A guy was scalping tickets for $10.

Ticket scalping at a UNCG game?

Yeah.  You know it.  I parted with $20 and suddenly, we had front row seats.

My wife knows my “goofy side” and she knows my “business side” but tonight, for the first time ever, she was treated to my “fan side.”

Early in the game, a Miami player practically molested a UNCG player and then knocked the ball out.  The ref nearest them didn’t call a foul, and instead whistled possession for Miami.

I was livid.  The score was close and we were holding our own against an ACC opponent.  We had an actual chance at this game if the refs called it fair.  I cupped my hands around my mouth and yelled at full volume, “Come on ref, get your head outta your ass!”

Oh yeah, did I mention it was loud?

My wife blushed and her eyes got big and I think she moved away from me a little.  The people around us laughed nervously and more important, the security guy not more than three feet from me on the floor whipped around.

I held my hands up and nodded, signaling that I was calm and he shook his head.  After a few seconds, he said, “You’re right, but you can’t say it.”

I acknowledged this and looked at my wife.  She was still blushing and looking at me wild-eyed, disbelief at my actions painted all over her face.

Later, she said to me, “I didn’t know this about you.”


“How you get at a game.”

“Yeah,” I said.  “You’ve seen me in front of the TV but what fun is it yelling at the TV?”

She just shook her head.

I didn’t shut up during the game.  I was loud and I was rowdy.  But because I was scolded by the guy wearing a bowtie, I kept it clean.

I told the ref he sucked.  I told the big guy on the other team he was a dough boy.  And I yelled for my team until my voice grew hoarse.

Those people that know this side of me aren’t surprised by this.  I was this way 20 years ago when I was in the student section.  I’ll probably still be this way 20 years from now.

My wife and I have known each other for more than thirty years and even though we didn’t “re-meet” and marry until almost two years ago, last night surprised me as much as it did her. I had no idea my wife didn’t know this side of me.

Who said there were no more surprises after the first year?  She ought to see me when we’re playing an actual rival.  Anyone know a good marriage counselor?