University of Virginia Library

Basketball As Living Theater

By Harv Feigenbaum

There are some of us who
remember when U. Hall was called
the Pregnant Clam and when Hoot
Gibson was that celluloid cowboy
who preceded Howdy Doody on
Saturday mornings. Of course, all
that has changed now. Coach
Gibson is a name mouthed with
hoarse enthusiasm (some what
lessened by recent games), his team
has been the subject of a laudatory
political cartoon in the Daily
Progress (which is itself a political
cartoon) and that unusually
successful Cavalier team has forced
the Cavalier Daily to drop the g
from amazing— at least in its sports
headlines.

But some of us, alas, are not
sports fans. We are the ones who, if
asked about Tom McMillen, would
murmur something about British
politics and Christine Keeler (first
names don't seem to matter much).
We are also the ones who invariably
push on doors plainly marked
"pull." Some of those doors are in
U. Hall and we still push them.
Why? Because there is more to
basketball than just the game. It is a
spectacle, a show, a circus, and that
attracts us non-sports fans like flies
to cow pastures.

It is for this reason that I'm a bit
disappointed in those three-piece
suited, pipe-smoking gents who are
constantly decrying State U-ism.
These poor fellows obviously have
no sense of theater: For what is a
cheerleader but a chorus girl; and
mindless slogans painted hastily still
make for a colorful decor.

The Actors

And the actors! Ah, the actors!
Colorfully costumed, sweating
bodies who might well be fitted
with tridents and swords, awaiting
the direction of the thumbs of the
crowd; instead they bounce orange
globes and sport sneakers, awaiting
the whistles of the referees. No less
important are those black-striped
villains who have no need to twirl
their mustaches to earn the hisses
of the crowd, preceding each vile
act with gestures not unlike those
of a Siamese ballet.

They are not the only
performers, though, Who can forget
the thrilling moments given us by
South Carolina's Frank McGuire
and his supporting players in the
press corps? And those countless
individuals who do their bit to
entertain the crowds. Think how
bereft you would feel if Mr.
Carmichael didn't show up for a
game.

The Audience

The audience plays its part as
well. They respond to the
cheerleaders' prompting in a unified
fashion that would inspire the Red
Army Chorus to emulation.

Some techniques have been
refined elsewhere, which makes us
realize how much work lies ahead if
U. Hall is to give us fine theater. A
recent trip to Duke (a trip the
Cavaliers would have done well to
have avoided) indicated to this
reporter the quality of their
mise-en-scene. The cheerleaders
there are first-rate dancers (ours
appear to be of a more sedentary
variety) and provide, with the help
of their pep band, the atmosphere
of a really good strip joint: not
elegant, but bawdy. The intimate
size of Duke's indoor stadium
(rumored to hold eight thousand
souls — whether bodies accompany
is not known) aids considerably as
the walls reverberate with such
sounds of the Fifties as "Two bits,
six bits" and whatever else people
used to say when they cheered.
Duke's penchant for perpetuating
nostalgia moves any whose tastes
favor spectacle over sport.

But what can we do to
encourage the dramatic art of
basketball? Coach Gibson is
certainly a great director, but a few
suggestions could be made.
Everyone knows a good cager must
be a good actor, for how else will a
ref see those personal fouls. Those
players who slam to the floor at the
wispy touch of an opponent's
elbow are doing fine but a few
more fights would certainly enliven
the action.

The audience can do its bit as
well. Rubber chickens were a great
innovation, but the field of
technical fouls is open ended and
has limitless possibilities for the
imaginative spectator and potential
participant.

It is with anxious anticipation
that I await tomorrow's game.
After all, each game is Opening
Night and the critics are always in
the audience.