COLUMN: Penn's real home-court advantage

From Jeremy Reiss', "Vegas, Baby," Fall '00 From Jeremy Reiss', "Vegas, Baby," Fall '00Not long ago, a friend asked me if I thought the fans in the Palestra had an effect on the outcome of Penn men's basketball games. This weekend, though, star Cornell forward Ray Mercedes changed my mind. I realized that while it may be hard to quantify the effect on the scoreboard, the fans are as much a part of the game at the Palestra as the first player off the bench. While the no-standing policy may have subdued the Penn fans just a tad, the Palestra remains one of the rarest of places that can unite a student body for the common goal of degrading an opponent and taking him out of his game. Shoot an airball, you'll be constantly reminded; make a shot and you'll only be heckled more. On Friday night, Mercedes became the latest, and perhaps most glaring, example that the structure and atmosphere of the Palestra is such that the fans can influence the way the game is played -- at least for Ivy League opponents who don't normally face large, enthusiastic and hostile crowds. Even during warmups, Mercedes' trash talking and sly grin in response to heckling from the sidelines suggested that he not only understood, but welcomed, the unique Palestra atmosphere. And once the game started -- and Mercedes scored 11 of Cornell's first 13 points -- the real fun began. Every time he touched the ball, Mercedes faced mocking chants of his name and countless attempts to explain to him exactly how much he "sucks." A certain Daily Pennsylvanian columnist even yelled that he should transfer to Penn because his current team can't win a game. But through it all, Mercedes seemed to love every minute of it -- except, of course, for losing. If nothing else, it was probably more attention than Mercedes ever receives at Cornell. Whether giving the student section a thumbs up, or smiling at the persistence of our taunting when he was at the foul line, he showed himself to be a crowd pleaser, for whom there is no better venue than the Palestra. This year's Quakers team doesn't need fan support to beat every team in the Ivy League -- even Princeton. But if you think the fans don't have an effect on the games, Just ask Harvard's best player, Dan Clemente. The forward was virtually invisible in a Palestra loss, scoring just two points and fouling out after facing a barrage of insults and obscenities from the Quaker fans. Sure, that could have been a fluke, but there's no denying that Dartmouth guard Greg Buth was visibly angered by the taunting the next night, repeatedly pointing to the crowd after each shot and hoisting up shot after ill-advised shot to try to silence the Palestra faithful. Sometimes, the atmosphere can be so powerful it can even backfire. Former Princeton guard Brian Earl, for instance, was one player who thrived on playing at the Palestra. Though he was the butt of perhaps some of the most vicious jokes of all, Earl helped engineer one of the greatest comebacks in college basketball history at the Palestra last February. At the other end of the spectrum, look to Friday, when Mercedes was burned on defense by an alley-oop to Penn's Ugonna Onyekwe because he was too busy reacting to the fans. Still, Mercedes insists, "I feed off the [Palestra] fans trying to get in my head," he said yesterday. "[But] instead of getting into by head, you add to my game." And I think he's right. Clearly, playing in college basketball's most historic arena can bring out both the best and worst in an opponent. But on Friday night, the fan pressure served, above all, to raise Mercedes' enthusiasm to the next level. Sure, he was frustrated that his 24 points were not enough to overcome the Quakers. But for much of Friday's game, Ray Mercedes was having as much fun as I was. "I also like playing at the Palestra because you guys -- meaning the hecklers -- remind me of back home," he said. "You make playing a very competitive game very fun." And if the Palestra can bring out that level of emotion from opponents, imagine the rush it can bring about for Penn's own players. From the chorus of "UUUUUU" that erupts every time Onyekwe dunks the ball to raucous ovations for the last players off the bench, the feeling of hearing thousands of fellow students screaming your name must be a thrill I can't fully comprehend. And that's just it. Like no other institution in the Ivy League -- and few others in the country -- the Palestra at its best unconditionally rewards its own and relentlessly reminds opponents exactly whose house it is.