Gund Arena Adds Sporty Spice to Your Week
BY SARAH MILLER-DAVENPORT

I won’t claim to be a big basketball fan (I have been known to accidentally cheer for the wrong team at games), but I knew my New York City pride was needed at the Knicks vs. Cavs game this past Monday night. 
The four of us — seniors Jenny Eisenberg, Jen Arffmann, Melissa Cardwell and myself — knew we would be in the minority rooting for the Knicks at Gund Arena, and mentally prepared ourselves to defend our home team on the 45-minute drive to Cleveland.
We arrived at the arena a half-hour early, coughed up an exorbitant $12 for parking and bought our tickets at the box office. Navigating our way through the monolith that is Gund Arena, we passed what seemed to be hundreds of overpriced concession stands on the way to our seats, safe in the knowledge that we had sneaked a box of Crunch & Munch passed the guards at the door.
As we were dismayed to discover, $18 tickets apparently buy you the crappiest seats in the arena, and we began planning our clandestine escape from the nosebleed section as soon as we sat down.
At first we were confused by the presence of a very small child wearing a very large t-shirt on the court, but soon found out that little Christopher Hoffman had been given the privileged title of honorary ball-boy for getting good grades in school. 
Before we could crack any more jokes about Christopher’s enormous floor-dragging shirt, the lights went out and a makeshift laser-light show began, signaling that the game was about to start. When the lights came back on, the Cavs Dance Team, mere cheerleader imposters at best, performed a poorly synchronized aerobics routine in place of a real cheer. I don’t think I will ever be able to fully express my deep sense of sadness at the gradual demise of the traditional pompom-swinging, pyramid-making cheerleading routine. Call me a purist, but when I attend a sports event, I want to see cheerleaders in cute pleated skirts, engaging in lots of screaming and gymnastics – none of this “dance” bullshit.
But I digress. The game began, with the two teams finishing practically neck and neck by the end of the first quarter (to be completely honest, I don’t actually remember the scores). We took the short break between quarters to find better seats, avoiding the arena employees in the teal, purple and pink blazers, and settled back down in seats much closer to the action.
The Knicks were eight points behind by the end of the second quarter, and we complained bitterly of the opposing team’s bad sportsmanship as we suffered through the Cavs Dance Team halftime routine.
We managed to finagle our way into the premium seat section during the break, and were thrilled to realize that sitting right in front of us was none other than Christopher Hoffman, honorary ball-boy, still garbed in that gigantic t-shirt.
The second half of the game was significantly more interesting, as every time we insulted the Cavs, Christopher and his friends would whip around and heckle us. At one point, we thought we heard them ask if they could come up and sit in our row — battle us face-to-face — but it was too loud to be sure.
The final quarter was intense: the Knicks had begun to redeem themselves, pulling ahead of the Cavs on several occasions. But despite our best efforts, a Knicks victory was not to be. The Cavs won 80-78.
So we returned to Oberlin, defeated and humbled like the Knicks we love.