Mitch and I went to see the 76ers rock the Pacers last night, tickets supplied by Neil (thanks Neil!) in honor of my birthday.
I haven't really been to an NBA game before. I've been to a few Rutgers games, and a Globetrotters game, and I did go to a Knicks game with my family once, and sat in the fourth row, but I was young (twelve, maybe?) and didn't appreciate it as much as I would now.
We parked a million miles away, right next to the stadium they're building for the Eagles. It looked majestic in the darkness, its steel skeleton lit by flourescent lights. We missed the beginning, but we weren't too late. Larry Brown was wearing black on black on black -- he looked quite dashing. Aaron McKie didn't play, I was sorry about that, I like him. Matt Harpring, my boyfriend, looked cute as usual. I watched him get subbed out, and he came back to the bench and got scolded by Larry Brown, and then sat down with his head cocked like he was pissed. It was cool.
The announcer cracked me up. Everybody always says how he says names funny and low, but I didn't realize HOW low. Whenever a Sixer scores, he says "Allen IVErson, from MATT HARpring," all booming and announcer-like, but when one of the other guys scores, he says, "Jermaine O'Neal", in a real low voice, like it's tearing him up inside that one of the Pacers scored. It cracked my shit up.
Here was my favorite part: fourth quarter, and we had been winning all game, but suddenly the Pacers are up by three. Iverson scores to make it even. The Pacers have the ball, but Iverson gets it and starts racing the other way, but it's getting crowded, so he passes behind his back to Matt, who fucking lays it up like nobody's fucking business to put us up by two. Everybody yells "yay!" and jumps up and down, and they start playing "Play That Funky Music White Boy". Man. That ruled. Matt scored fourteen points during the game, that gorgeous white boy he.
During halftime we went to walk around, but I heard something from the court that sounded like fireworks, so I said, "what's going on in there?" We turned up the next stairs, and it turns out that there was a drum . . . line, doing the halftime show. I'm not a bandfag so I'm going to get some of this terminology wrong, forgive me, former bandfags: there were eight kids: two bass drums, three snares, and three quads. One was a girl. They all had Sixers jerseys on -- I think like one kid had a Mutombo jersey, and all the other kids had AI jerseys. I don't know much about drum stuff, but I thought they were good, and they were a hell of a lot more interesting to watch than the dance team. I'm glad we stopped in to catch them.
I had a fabulous time. The seats weren't so great, but we had a great view, even if we were real far away. And it was so cool just to be there, for real, and be able to watch guys on the sidelines and stuff, whenever I wanted to. I definitely want to splurge for 100-level seats come playoff time. And we won! It was close in the end, so exciting, and we won. And we got home pretty quickly, too. Go Sixers!