COLUMN: The Line: Love it or leave it?

Once again, The Line leaves true fans nothing to complain about. Here's a little quiz for you: A: None. It's that simple. If you're a student and a fan, you made your peace with the ticket line, you camped out and you didn't complain about it. Look, no matter what anyone says, The Line has always and will forever serve one purpose: It separates the fans from the rest of the rooters. Like those who get on the roller coaster a second time and those who just take pictures from outside the gate, the true diehards are skimmed from the pool of regular ticket holders, from those who just enjoy going to the games, by The Line. Because a fan, in the truest sense of the word, is a fanatic. And fanatics will do just about anything for tickets. A fan doesn't mind sacrificing a weekend at a moment's surprise notice to get the best seats at the Palestra. If getting those seats are that important to you, then you're a fanatic and you'll spend the weekend on The Line. If you can't bear not going out for one night, then you don't take part in The Line. If you place sleeping in your own bed or studying in the library for an upcoming midterm above being the first one to rush the hardwood when the players grab their scissors after beating Princeton, then the Line isn't for you. You buy your tickets on your own time and you make peace with the situation. If you didn't wait on The Line, that's perfectly OK. There's no shame in cheering from Section 215. But if you didn't wait on The Line and you're complaining about it, take a second to re-evaluate your position. Either The Line -- and the best tickets -- are important enough for you to adjust your other weekend plans, or it's not. It's that simple. You can't have your tickets and party/study/sleep, too. Fans will sleep outside, braving near-freezing temperatures and beds of concrete. They will study, turning brittle pages with glove-covered fingers. They will go days eating only those foods that come packaged in foil wrappers, all the while fighting off hungry squirrels and the urge to go to the bathroom in a facility with running water. Except at Penn, they don't have to. Because the Athletic Department makes it easy for the true fans. They schedule the start and end of The Line, maintain order throughout, allow students to sleep indoors, hand out free pizza and hold raffles for everything from socks to plane tickets. They shut off the lights in the concourse at "bed time." This year, they even tried to avoid the problems that plagued them in the past, by burning the midnight oil to make the final, 6 a.m. ticket-purchasing go as smoothly and painlessly as possible. Come to think of it, they did everything but put mints on the pillows of the makeshift beds in the hallway. The Palestra, circa last weekend, was conducive to studying. With all its corners and benches and passageways and hidden nooks, the 72-year-old gym offered plenty of semi-private study areas. I was on The Line this weekend, and I brought my laptop and wrote a paper. I found a phone line and checked my e-mail. The Palestra was also conducive to sleeping. Just ask any of the myriad students who lugged sleeping bags, mattresses or even sofas across campus to while the hours away by sleeping. This isn't about what the Athletic Department does, doesn't or should be doing differently regarding The Line. Six years ago, The Line had no formal structure, began when the first student showed up, was held outdoors, offered no breaks, wristbands or line checks and ended with a near-riot. When tickets went on sale, students rushed the entrance, leaving several fans injured, pinned against the bricks or trampled to the pavement. The fan response? In '94, even more fans camped out. The Line isn't about freebies or non-alcoholic programming or being accommodating to students worried about sleeping in their own beds before interviews. It's about fans buying tickets and the more tentative supporters staying home. If you're complaining about The Line, ask yourself if you have a legitimate gripe or if you're just whining. Are you mad that it went until Monday morning? Well, this year you at least had a chance to go out and party in your Halloween costume Friday night. Last year, did you complain that The Line consumed both of your weekend nights? After all, it's not The Line's job to cater to the students. It's simply a benefit to Penn fans that it does. There is, after all, no bad seat in the Palestra. If you've weighed the options and decided that sleeping in the Palestra isn't worth it, then you buy your tickets on your own terms, get a decent seat and enjoy 13 games in the most historic gym in America. There's no fairer way to give out the best seats than to hand them out in order. If you're upset, maybe the issue is not The Line. Maybe you're bitter that your friends don't care as much about the games as you do and you couldn't justify camping out alone. Or maybe you just want Penn to give you a better shot at getting a prize for which others are willing to sacrifice more. If you didn't camp out but are planning to buy tickets, I look forward to seeing you at the Palestra in the coming months. I have no doubt that you'll be cheering just as loud, painting your face just as often and rushing the court as frequently as the real fans who camped out. But please, don't complain. You made your choice and I made mine. And there's nothing unfair about The Line.