Saturday, March 13, 2010

Better Days Behind

As I was covering the ACC Tournament last night played in front of a sparse and mostly disinterested gathering in cavernous Greensboro Coliseum, it occurred to me that I was probably sitting only a seat or two away from where I sat the night of my first ACC Tournament game, the aforementioned 1974 championship in which the Wolfpack of David Thompson, Tommy Burleson and Monte Towe outlasted the Maryland Terps of John Lucas, Tom McMillen and Len Elmore 103-100. For all the exansion the arena has undergone, the court, best I can tell, is in the same place.

The difference between watching that game and the ones I have watched this weekend is the difference between seeing the Grateful Dead—the vintage Dead, back before Pigpen boozed himself to death and Jerry stuck the needle in his arm—at Cameron Indoor Stadium and watching today’s incarnation of the band at, well, Greensboro Coliseum.

Forgive me if I’m coming off as an old warhorse who has out-lived his war. I’m whipped from having worked the graveyard shift the past two nights, getting in at 2, finally getting to sleep at 5 and getting back over to the Coliseum by the time the games tip off again. Watching inspired N.C. State barge past Clemson and Florida State has been fun, but the cumulative effects are wearing this old body out.

But the truth, as Lenox wrote so eloquently in this morning’s Journal, is the ACC Tournament a full decade into the 21st century is what it is, but it’s not what it was. It’s not even close to being what it was. Back then, when a team had to actually win the ACC Tournament to get a bid to the NCAA Tournament, it was as close to life and death as a sporting event can be. And the place was packed and pulsating. A ticket to the ACC Tournament was a truly prized possession and a seat on press row made you the envy of everyone you knew.. Today, whether you blame it on expansion, a watered-down product, the bad economy or whatever, it’s a empty shell of its former shelf

I still love coming, if nothing else than to see and catch up with so many friends that I usually don’t see any other time of the year. We swap stories, tell lies, bellylaugh with bellies way too full of free food we shouldn’t be eating. When the site is Atlanta, DC or Tampa, if I’m not at a game working you can always find me at the hospitality room at the media hotel, at least until they chase us out.

This year I’m actually thinking of hanging out at the hacienda for tomorrow’s championship and watching it on TV before heading over to Wake to cover the NCAA Tournament Selection show. I would have never, ever, even considered that in years gone by.

The ACC Tournament will never be what it was, but then, again, neither will the Grateful Dead.