Nov. 13, 2007

You used to be assured of a seat, usually your own table. I moved out to San Francisco after graduating in '99 and immediately found a sports bar to watch the early morning goodness that is a Saturday 9 a.m. Georgetown game.  Sure, the place smelled a bit of dishwater, and it was myself and about two other guys I didn't know.  But they had the game on the television, and you'd have your own table to line up the drinks and pound on when we lost games in the fourth overtime.  I'm a sports junkie in general and having first stepped on campus when Allen Iverson was leading us to an Elite Eight, I wasn't going to miss the Hoyas, however they performed.

 

Fast forward six and a half years.  Having gone off to Las Vegas for a bachelor party, I drove quickly to our bar for the second half of the second round game versus Ohio State. The Hibbert spin move game.  Walking into the bar, I was surrounded by fans. I could hardly find the friends I had made years ago watching in that empty bar - we had hundreds of Hoya fans watching the game.  So I had to stand. It was worth the trade-off.

 

Even these days, of course, hundreds of fans are not the norm at those Saturday morning game watches. But we do have a core group of fans - two of whom will be writing on here - that show up.  It's an odd group.  None of us knew each other in college; many of us weren't even in school together.  We range ages from twenty to over forty (and older).  We come from different races, countries and backgrounds.  We don't necessarily have a lot in common.  Heck, one of our little group didn't even go to Georgetown or root for them until a few years ago.  But a few roadtrips, more than a few drinks and countless games managed to bring us all together.  Which is pretty cool.