High noon. Seven hours before the Utah State Aggies tip-off against the Boise State Broncos, and fans are already gathering outside the doors that lead into their basketball shrine: The Spectrum.
Fans clad in dark blue (Aggie Blue), along with their laptops, textbooks, homework, card games, and snack foods, are strewn out across the floor.
Seconds seem like days. Minutes pass slower than finals week. The excitement in the air is so thick it's like sharing an elevator with a woman wearing far too much perfume.
Lucky for Aggie fans, they will have a respite from their waiting—if only for a few hours. There is a women's game at 3:00, which means the doors will open at 2:00—the customary one hour prior to tip-off.
By 1:30 the students have put away their laptops, games, and textbooks and have lined up by the doors. Each student—all well-seasoned veterans of the Aggie student section—has his or her student I.D. card ready to show to the usher at the door.
2:00 rolls around, and the students flood into the upper concourse of The Spectrum. Once to their seats, the students sit back and enjoy the women's basketball game (in which the Aggies eventually come out on top). The students, while supportive of their women's team, are careful to save their voices for the much anticipated men's game.
Following the women's game, ushers clear the house. The students trudge up the steep and narrow steps, up to the concourse, and out into the small space in between two sets of doors. One set leads into their beloved Spectrum; the other separates them from the cold winds of a Logan winter.
It's still only 4:00 pm. Three hours until game time and two hours prior to the opening of the doors.
All of this waiting prior to each game has created a tight-knit family of Aggie students. For the rookies in the room, the two-hour wait from 4:00 to 6:00 will be torture. But the well-seasoned veterans mingle together in conversations that seem to discuss every topic under the sun.
A couple of students are sent to retrieve pizza from the local five-dollar pizza shop. They are graciously received upon their return as the Aggie faithful consume their pre-game meal.
5:30 rolls around, and once again the students are on their feet in a formation as close to a line as one can hope for in such a tight space. While many of the tight-knit community have an unwritten seating chart with each person occupying the same seat each game, the situation becomes stressful and full of suspense.
The ushers are cheered as they arrive to set up the scanning machines used to swipe each student I.D. card. To the hardcore Aggies, these ushers are just as well known as the star players on the court.
The suspense continues to build as the clock ticks closer to 6:00. With each passing second the crowd packs closer and closer while pushing more and more towards the front.
The first student I.D. card is already in the scanner, waiting to be swiped, as all eyes stare intently at the digital clock that reads 5:59.
The clock strikes 6:00 pm. The mayhem that ensues is surpassed by the chaos of black Friday Christmas shopping only in the number of trampling deaths and gang shootings.
Students fly down the steep stairs two, sometimes three at a time. All this despite community consensus of who will occupy which seat.
Once at their seats, the students don't waste time to catch their breath, but instead immediately begin heckling Boise St. point guard Anthony Thomas, who is warming up on the opposite end of the court.
Despite having already made himself a target of ridicule at the previous year's WAC tournament, the fact that Thomas is wearing a white T-shirt instead of the team warmups is not helping to spare him from Aggie heckling.
As the music blares from the sound system, the students watch their beloved Aggies warm up while sharing high fives and encouraging words.
An unfortunate incident occurs about 30 minutes before game time. A student in the Aggie student section thinks he can get away with wearing a bright orange Boise State sweatshirt.
This poor misguided soul immediately has all 4,000 students screaming at him in rage and displeasure as if he is Satan himself (and let's face it, who else would be dumb enough to try that?).
Within moments, one of the faithful Aggie women comes storming up the steps with a blue shirt in hand. Hell hath no fury like a woman scorned, but a scorned Aggie woman? Well, she makes a regular scorned woman look like an angel.
The student—proving he has some shred of intelligence—consents to put on the Aggie Blue shirt, much to the roaring pleasure of the rest of the students.
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