Good Riddance, Mac Court

Say what you want about history and tradition; I'm glad the University of Oregon basketball teams are finished playing their home games at McArthur Court.

Sure, The Pit had a certain charm.

It was tough to be a fan in that venue - when the place was rocking and the Duck men or women were winning - and not get swept up.

The building was a living piece of history, and the ghosts of Oregon teams past seemed to float over the court above the arena's upper balcony during games, weaving in and out of championship banners, cracked wooden rafters and the exposed steel beams that held up the roof.

You could peer over the edge of that third balcony and it was almost as if you, yourself, were floating directly over the court. To wit, opposing players often talked about The Pit's intimidation factor, and feeling as though the raucous home fans were right on top of them.

That charm played a big role in any positive memories I have about Mac Court. That and being in attendance for some pretty memorable moments at The Pit - watching a couple of Elite Eight teams tear through the regular season. Seeing Luke Jackson drop 42 points on Arizona. I was at the 1999 game when USC's Adam Spanich nailed two three-pointers in 2.8 seconds to give the Trojans a one-point victory over the Ducks. Not exactly a happy memory, but an amazing feat to witness, nonetheless.

Others have been on hand for more impressive Mac Court moments: seeing the 1939 Tall Firs team make its run to the NCAA title; watching the Ducks improbably defeat top-ranked UCLA in 1974; watching Ronnie Lee and a host of other UO greats.

I'd love to say all my memories of The Pit will remain positive and nostalgic, but they won't. They'll be more like the ones I have of the Ducks' 2006 home victory over Cal - 92-84 - when I purchased tickets in the last row of the third balcony, behind the south basket. The tickets weren't billed as obstructed view, and perhaps if you were Gumby, they weren't. But my brother and I, flexible as we are, had a heck of a time seeing anything at all. The scoreboard was completely obscured by a beam. We had to stand up on our toes to see the basket closest to us, then had to slouch down in our seats to see the far hoop.

It's a memory I recant almost like a war story; I'm proud to have weathered it, and I never want to do it again.

I've also sat far back on the second level, tucked underneath the third balcony's floor in a claustrophobic's nightmare, and when fans up above start jumping up and down and stomping their feet, that's a pretty scary place to be. The whole upper level shakes, and it's not difficult to imagine the thing busting loose.

Structural and safety issues aside, The Pit's seating is a disaster, too, depending on where you are. In some areas of the second and third levels, rows are so close together that my legs don't fit unless I turn sideways in my seat. I'm a tick over 6 feet tall, and at one game in 2009, I sat next to a guy who was at least 6-3. I thought I was miserably uncomfortable, squished into my seat with my knees jammed into the chair in front ... until I looked over and saw my tall neighbor folded up like a human pretzel.

We were in the third row of the second level, at about halfcourt, which really ought to be great seats, particularly for the money we paid. They weren't. When the girl sitting in front of me leaned forward with her elbows on her knees, I couldn't see the court without leaning one way or the other. So that's how I watched the entire game - bobbing and weaving to get a glimpse of the action.

At the 2008 Civil War, my wife and I sat in the lower bowl, one row up from the floor. We paid a pretty penny for the tickets, but figured it'd be fun to sit so close at least once. It almost was. We were just next to the Oregon student section - The Pit Crew - and with students standing in the bleachers all the way down to the floor level, the court's left corner was completely obscured, even when we stood up. Ridiculous, that big-time-donor-level seats would have any obscured view whatsoever.

To be fair, I've had some great experiences at Mac Court, too. When I've been lucky enough to get tickets at the bottom level, or in the first few rows of the second level, or in the first row of the third level.

But if you're not in one of those spots in Mac Court, forget about it. Seeing all of the court and all of the scoreboard - and being even remotely comfortable - are luxuries you might not get to enjoy. Not to mention the upper level gets so hot and stuffy when The Pit is packed that you can't breathe; fans stand next to the popped-open windows at halftime just to suck in some air.

I'm not at all a fan of progress for the sake of progress, and although Oregon is pretty well-known for that, the move from Mac Court to Matthew Knight Arena is not one of those deals.
It's necessary.

And it's about time.

Source:
Good Riddance, Mac Court Originally published on WiredOregon.com.