`Power box' needs to cheer on Irish basketball team
By BRIAN CHURNEY
Sports columnist
Once upon a time there was a king and his jester. This king had power over a vast empire of students, alumni, and rabid fans. And wherever the king went, his jester was by his side.
The king and his jester enjoyed being entertained and thus attended many sporting events.
If at all possible, such as at football games, the king stayed far from the townspeople in the comfort of luxury boxes with other members of the aristocracy, sipping the finest drinks and dining on the best food. Most importantly, he was protected from the masses by tinted windows and locked doors.
Not all sports offered these luxuries though. The king enjoyed basketball very much, stemming from his days as a player. If he was to enjoy a basketball game, though, he would have to grace his subjects with his presence. And so he attended his beloved game sitting near the court in the finest seats in the building. His loyal subjects sat behind him with his jester by his side.
And so the king and his jester came faithfully to nearly every game.
One would think that this sort of enthusiasm and support would be appreciated by his subjects for it isn't often that a king would lower himself to being that close in proximity to the proletariat.
But there was something wrong with the king and there was something wrong with the jester. At least it appeared as if there was something wrong.
For the king and his jester simply sat and stared, arms folded, eyes glazed, looking as if they didn't want to be at the game. Looking as if they didn't want to be near their subjects.
The team competed, occasionally looking unbeatable, occasionally looking incompetent. The subjects cheered, celebrating the good times and roaring their encouragement through the bad times. But the king and his jester refrained and simply stared ahead.
After the game, the loyal subjects filed out of the arena, some days smiling, some days shaking their heads in disapproval. But the king and his jester didn't change their expressions, they just picked up their coats and left. They didn't even clap.
OK, so storytelling isn't my cup of tea. I'll spare you the sequel.
In case the metaphor wasn't clear enough for you, I'll explain. Something strange happens at every Irish men's basketball game. To the left of the remarkably loud student section and in front of a group of children loyal to the Dome, who scream for their heroes, is what has affectionately become known as "the power box."
"The power box" is filled with a majority of the decision-making power on campus — Father Mark Poorman, Father William Beauchamp and even Father Edward Malloy. While Poorman, the newest member of "the power box," showed signs of life, cheering as a real fan does, the other two prominent figures, Malloy (our king) and Beauchamp (his jester) appeared less lively than the statue of Moose Krause lounging outside of the Joyce Center.
They just sat there staring ahead, arms folded, chins tucked down, nearly asleep.
Troy Murphy threw down a thunderous dunk and they sat there in silence.
Ted Valentine made a "Ted Valentine" call and they sat there.
The results of the game didn't matter. They just sat there.
It baffles me that two such prominent Notre Dame figures could sit and be so apathetic toward their team. No, they weren't just apathetic. They were rude.
At one point, Beauchamp pushed the leprechaun, who was trying to rouse the aforementioned youngsters, out of the way because the leprechaun stood in Beauchamp's line of sight. No "excuse me," just a shove.
Malloy refused to acknowledge a group of students chanting for him to stand up and join them in rooting for the school he runs. He just ignored them.
As a player for Notre Dame from 1961-1963, Malloy should have an idea what the players are enduring on the court and how beneficial a loud crowd is to creating a tough atmosphere for opponents to play in. He should also know what it's like to play before a crowd that looks as bored as he and his executive vice president have looked this year.
Beauchamp, on the other hand, should know the importance of success of our teams.
His primary responsibility is to act as a link between Malloy and the athletic department. Their success reflects upon the quality of his job. Why would he act so catatonically at the game?
At what point in becoming important did these two men forget how to have fun? The games are played so that spectators can enjoy them, not endure them.
We can all agree that it's admirable for the two of them to attend games with the regularity that they do. But attendance is not enough. Anyone can attend class, but it is only those who listen that get anything out of it.
Don't simply attend the games. Be a fan. It's OK for important people to smile and have fun.
If acting like you're enjoying the game is too much of a chore, then I urge you to stay home. Leave those seats open for the kids behind you. At least they look like they're alive.
The views expressed in this column are those of the author and not necessarily those of The Observer.
All Sports Stories for Thursday, January 27, 2000
