COLUMN: Palestra gives Penn a real advantage

From Eric Goldstein's "Upon Further Review," Fall '95 The post-Bill Bradley era of Ivy hoops has been, for the most part, a series of backdoor cuts looped together. Sure, Princeton nearly upset Georgetown, perhaps should have upset Georgetown, in the 1989 NCAA Tourney. But after a one-game-and-out performance, the Ivy schools would go back into hibernation for another 12 months. But much has changed since Tigers forward Kit Mueller nearly outlasted Hoyas freshman phenom Alonzo Mourning, before losing on a controversial non-call, 50-49. While Pete Carril has stuck with his 1950s style, Penn dragged the Ivy League kicking and screaming into the Showtime era. With perhaps the most brilliant playmaker in conference history, Jerome Allen, and one of the nation's deadliest long-range bombers, Matt Maloney, the Quakers brought numerous Palestra crowds to their feet and made opponents reconsider their prejudices toward Ivy hoops. Come on, can you imagine Dicky V calling a Princeton game? "Oh, baby, check out that defense! Can you believe it, baby? 21-20 at the half! Are you kidding me?" With the rejuvenation of the Penn program came a rebirth of the Palestra. The long-time center of the Philadelphia basketball scene, the Palestra has played host to some of the greatest college players ever. But with the slow death of the Big 5 and Princeton's '80s domination of the Ivies, there was little to cheer about in the Palestra -- until the arrival of Jerome & Co. For the first time since 1979, the Quakers were back in the national spotlight, and the Penn fans responded by flocking back to the Palestra. Like the Quakers program as a whole, the Palestra and its face-painting inhabitants are anomalies in the Ivy League. The typical Ancient Eight arena looks more like a high school gym than the majestic temple with which we are blessed. Penn enjoys a home-court advantage unlike any other school in the conference, perhaps the only home-court advantage in the conference. Most Ivy schools are happy if just the players actually show up. Monday's losing effort to USC was a perfect example. Despite a crowd of only 4,100, under half-capacity, the Quakers fans were most definitely a factor. As the game entered the final five minutes of play, the crowd came alive, screaming, clapping, stomping feet, doing anything to distract the Trojans offense. With the bleachers rocking and the hardwood vibrating, the Quakers forced a few USC turnovers and tied the game at 78 on a Tim Krug three-pointer with just 43.3 seconds remaining in the game. Trojans guard Cameron Murray silenced the crowd in the closing seconds with a game-winning jump shot from the foul line. But throughout the contest, the Palestra crowd was most definitely a sixth man for the Penn squad. On two separate occasions, once late in the first half, once in the second, the Trojans were forced to take timeouts when the Quakers fans rose to their feet. The noise from the stands definitely rattled USC at times. Apathetic fans often say the players on the court tune the crowd out, they don't hear the fans. If that were the case, would USC guard Cameron Murray pump his fists toward the student section after a layup and foul? Would Trojans center David Crouse turn around and scope out the stands after a profanity was hurled in his direction? After the game, would defensive whiz Stais Boseman sarcastically slap hands with a fan in the first row who was on him all night? The players do hear the crowd, and it does bother them. That is the advantage Penn has that any other Ivy team does not. Most Princeton students could not even tell you how to get to Jadwin Gym, much less have actually watched a game there. Columbia's facilities are only slightly better than my high school's, and it shows in the attendance. Penn students are blessed to have such a majestic facility as the Palestra. But it takes the fans to transform that arena into a home court.

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