Welcome to another edition of our summer series Arena Wars, where we've summoned the fans to defend their home court.
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This week we leave the Big Ten (fret not Minnesota fans, we'll be back) to feature a matchup of Syracuse's Carrier Dome, one of the nation's most cavernous home courts, and Big East rival Connecticut's Gampel Pavilion, one of the conferences smallest arenas.
While the Huskies split their time between Gampel Pavilion and the XL Center in Hartford, Conn., for the purposes of Arena Wars we preferred the on-campus coziness of Gampel. Opened in 1990, Connecticut has lost just 17 games in their on-campus home while claiming 125 victories.
The Carrier Dome not only has the distinction of hosting Syracuse Orange basketball, but football as well, hence a capacity that tops 33,000 for hoops action. Since opening its doors in 1980 the Orange's record at the Carrier Dome stands at 422-87.
| Carrier Dome -- home of the Syracuse Orange | ||||||||||||
I've been in places louder, where the shrill siren of cheers ricochet off the walls and beams and pierces the ears with a biting sharpness. However, that can be accomplished in any field-house with 200 people and Aunt Edna. Not in the Dome. Pundits talk about the intimidating atmosphere there -- but I must admit, it doesn't occur every game. In fact it doesn't occur most games. It takes a full season to build up to it. Ten thousand for an exhibition, 15K for the season opener against NNW Slappy St., maybe 25K for the mid-week Big East opener. We wait. As each game approaches, the students arrive in line earlier to make the mad dash for those coveted Front Row seats. Eventually they wait overnight, maybe five nights, in 5-degree weather, all to see "G-Town" and the "UConnvicts" up close.
When the schedule comes out, we look for a prime Saturday evening match-up in mid-February and lock in those tix. As an alum, I anticipate it with anxious glee like the holidays. Game day means I get to drive the hour from here in Binghamton early in the morning, hit up Marshall St., sample the best cuisine and pints at Faegan's, and engorge in the best comfort food and pitchers at Chuck's -- for the Dome is not off campus. You don't take a shuttle to get there. You walk out of the bar on M Street and you are looking directly at the Newhouse School, where tomorrow's Costas or Tirico is learning the trade. Beyond that is the iconic spire of Crouse College. Over that, rises what can only be described as a giant interwoven pillow, a roof straight out of an Asimov novel -- as if it were conceived 50 years ago as what the future might look like in the 21st Century. It's only four blocks away, but it is uphill, and the cold is extra biting today. As I wedge through the turnstile, I walk the yawning halls adorned with towering posters of players, concerts, and convergences past. Donovan McNabb, Derrick Coleman and Dwight Freeney all frozen in time. The voices of Billy Joel, Billy Graham and Billy Owens still echoing off the walls. The Greatest athlete, the greatest lacrosse program and the greatest block of all time are immortalized in mural-sized banners across the stadium. All attempt to hide a foreboding and cold fact: It is just a hunk of concrete. Some call it a sarcophagus, but to us, it's a concerto hall. For when the big game comes, when the top deck is full, when we all have sought shelter in this commons of sports greatness, the yells of elation strike not a sharp chord in one's ear. Rather, it rises gloriously and powerfully. Thirty-four thousand wail and whistle at the top of their ability. All winter we have waited for this. The roar rattles our bodies so hard that, if harnessed correctly, we're certain it could keep the heat on in all our homes until May. Win or lose, we leave inspired, refreshed -- unleashed. Back to our towns and villages. Best get the chains and flares ready, we might get stuck in that snowbank at midnight, but at least we know that we can beat winter. If we can do that, the promising bloom of May and the Finger Lakes and the Adirondacks and the Catskills and all the stuff the gets us too excited to type commas can't be too far away.
You see, everything about our home cavern is nothing more than a simple reflection of what it means to be an upstate New Yorker. It survives. We survive. From post-industrial depressions, to heavy taxes, to the soul-suffocating brutality of a harsh winter, we stand resolute, and in love, with the most beautiful countryside on god's green earth. Granted, it is a very utilitarian shelter. A big bunker nestled in staunch defiance of the worst old man winter can do. Heavy on the necessities, light on the niceties -- but it's OUR shelter. Dome Sweet Dome it is. -- grahamcracker3 (James Graham '04) |
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| Harry A. Gampel Pavilion -- home of the Connecticut Huskies | ||||||||||||
Opened on January 21, 1990, Gampel seats 10,167 people for basketball games. It replaced Greer Fieldhouse, which only sat a little over 4,000. Seats are rarely empty, especially when rivals like Syracuse, Villanova, or Pittsburgh come to town. Students will line up hours, and even days, before important matchups. Krzyzewski-ville at Duke gets a lot of attention, but North Carolina's weather is tropical compared to winter days in New England. But not even temperatures that reach well below freezing will deter UConn students from arriving early to get the best seats in the house.
And the tradition doesn't end with on-court success. One well-known ritual takes place while the visiting team is being introduced. Standing with our back to the court, so as not to give full acknowledgment to the visiting team, the crowd chants "Suck!" as each player is announced. Immature, yes but still fun for the student section to partake in. "Big Red" is another great tradition. This time, a large man known to all as Big Red leads all 10,000 plus fans in a unified cheer. If the opposing team calls timeout to stop a UConn run, Big Red stands up and spells out UConn with his arms, as everyone loudly chants "U-C-O-N-N! UCONN! UCONN! UCONN!" This always gets the crowd pumped up. The student section itself is split up into a lower and upper level, with the concourse walkway acting as the divider. Many opposing fans must walk along that concourse to reach their seats, subjecting them to verbal abuse and torment from above and below courtesy of UConn students. The main visitor section is the located almost next to the upper student section, resulting in a very rowdy atmosphere.
After spending four years as a student at UConn, I can tell you that Gampel Pavilion is an excellent place to watch a college basketball game. The rowdy atmosphere from both the students and the regular fans, and the superb talent on the floor, make it one of the best home arenas in the nation. -- Calhoun4Pres |
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| Gary Parrish's take |
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Is bigger better?
If so, the Carrier Dome should dominate this week's Arena Wars given that it's three times larger than Gampel Pavilion. It's also easier to spell, and that's a bonus. So while I'm not typically a fan of basketball played in domes, I'm actually for the Carrier Dome in this setting because I dislike home courts that aren't fulltime home courts. I like Cameron Indoor because that's Duke's home. I like Allen Fieldhouse because that's Kansas' home. But at UConn, sometimes the games are played at Gampel Pavilion, other times in downtown Hartford. And because I'm a stickler for consistency -- it stems from an anxiety disorder -- I'm much more comfortable with the Carrier Dome in general. I know if I'm going to see the Orange play a home game that the Carrier Dome is the place I'll be visiting. There's something to be said for that. To me, it's kind of like what people say about quarterbacks. If you have two, you really have none. Or is that what they say about girlfriends? I always get those confused. |

