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    todd2006

    The Pomona Stoned Hens left me tickets to the game against Oregon State the other day. Took the wife and had a great time. Free parking, fun crowd, great team. We're hoping to go back soon.

    The best part of the game was the Stanford Student Section. It was the first time I'd seen them and I couldn't stop laughing the entire time. The dancers/cheerleaders have to go though. It was uncomfortable to watch them.

    Firefighters

    I was a founding member of the Sixth Man club (I believe it was 1993? Damn, time flies.) The Club was sponsored by the late Halftime Sports Cafe, where the Beavercats and I (and Los Pintos? Can't remember) worked the bar at age 18 and, of course, drank beers all the time after work. Halftime had very poor margins and closed after 2-3 years for some reason J. I’ll never forget when, as a pledge at SAE, we spent a particularly indulgent evening at Halftime and I had Bart Lammerson pull a Garin Veris Stanford football jersey off the wall, roll it up, and stick it down my pants.

    That first season of Sixth Man there were only 20-30 of us, mostly SAEs, just completely shit faced and screaming ourselves hoarse, watching Brevin Knight run the floor. The standard routine was a power smoke with Jack Tripper before the game (optional for the really big meatheads who thought it made them soft), followed by rum and Pepsi throughout the contest. We'd buy the 32 oz Pepsi, immediately pour half of it out in the bathroom and fill the rest with large flasks that we smuggled into Maples in our pants.

    Then we would let it rip. I remember getting a lot of offended looks from schoolmates and alumni, as 6th Man wasn't very popular back then. The Stanford crowd was very demure and used to losing. So much so that admin was naive enough to let us form a human tunnel on the court for the Stanford players to pass through before the game. That lasted until one of my fraternity brothers, a 3rd round draft pick of the White Sox who will remain nameless, staggered over to the opposite side of the court, where Cal was warming up, and, with a shit eating grin, stuck his middle finger into Monty Buckley's face. Buckley pushed him, started to come after him and had to be restrained. No more human tunnel.

    They also let us stand on the court, and of course we would jostle and sway until we were so close the opposing players would have to deal with not just the blast of obsenities, but the warm, alcoholic fumes pushing against their necks when inbounding on our side. A few times some of my brethren actually ended up on the court, before staggering back. We also were constantly threatened with technical fouls by the refs, as we would actually move the rim and the opposing players' legs by jumping up and down on the then spring-based Maples floor. Eventually, they put chairs and tables in between us and the court after a few seasons.

    But I think the most reprehensible (or delightful, depending on your sobriety/maturity level) aspect of 6th Man was the content of our cheers. “We want Thompson!” was a favorite while Paly Grad and former PAFFL Champ Mark “Milt Money” Thompson pledged the fraternity and warmed the bench his frosh year in 1994. There also was the standard, "SATs, SATs" cheer for Jason Kidd, who struggled repeatedly to break 800 (out of 1600 back then) on the test and, to us, embodied the academic inferiority of Cal. But we took it to another level when we chanted, -CLAP, CLAP - CLAP, CLAP. CLAP - "Your dad hates you!" to Mike Bibby, who at Arizona was estranged from his father, the coach at USC. The attitude was all's fair in love and war - especially when you have 10+ drinks in your system and think you’re some kind of chosen one based on your university and fraternity. We were hated by not just the opposing team but the rest of the Stanford community and there was a blossoming movement to try to shut down the Club at one point. Of course, that didn’t happen and now, through a kind of manifest destiny, the club has swept over the entire eastern side of the pavilion.

    Despite the Club’s growth and the fact that I haven’t been to a game in years, I believe the same juvenile, creative and totally ruthless spirit remains, for better or for worse. I mean, “You got Fingered!” for a Taj Finger block? It really doesn’t get much better.


    Beavercat

    Nice post...

    Mike T & I got jobs there while still in high school right as Halftime opened up. It was a good place but I guess serving minors doesn't pay off long-term :)

    todd2006

    I loved when someone on the other team fouled out and the 6th man group yelled "right! left! right! left!" as the fouled-out player walked off the court, telling him what foot to use. When he was at his chair and bending down, the student section yelled "SIT DOWN!" at the perfect moment.

    The dancing tree was sort of lame though.

    I thought the best part was when the 60-70 year old women came out to dance to that soulja boy song. Of course, seeing the mostly white, preppy, semi-nerdy Stanford kids attempt to do the dance too was somewhat amusing... and sad.

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