There are 30 minutes to go before the start of the game. Not many fans of either team are seated yet.
The man says to me, “You know you’re sitting on the wrong side, right?”
I give him a pleasant nod. “Oh,” I say as nicely as you could imagine I might. if you know me, “I didn’t realize it was reserved seating.”
“Oh, no no no,” he says. “It’s not reserved seating. I just thought you might miss your family over there on the other side.”
This comment makes me think. Nowadays, retired, I think less than you might imagine. My family. I have no family now, except for my sisters who live in England. But this, yes, right here in the Blaisdell Arena, it’s true: This is my University Laboratory School Jr. Bow ‘ohana.
“Oh, my family,” I say to him. “My family is over there on that side, but it’s also on the court warming up right now. They’re everywhere in here this afternoon.”
Then looking up at him I say, “Can’t we all just get along?”
“Oh, yes, of course we can,” he says, a bit flustered by my question. He’s old enough to know.
He turns away, and I turn my attention to the Lab School boys’ volleyball team warming up on the Blaisdell Arena court. This is the State Championship match. We’ve never, in the entire history of the school, since 1951, won a State Championship for boys’ volleyball.
A friend phones me from across the court. I’d seen him sitting almost exactly across from me before he called.
“Eh, Lanning, you know you’re sitting on the wrong side of the court, right?”
I laugh. “I don’t like that side. I like to see the team.”
All season long, we’ve sat across from the team. I like being able to see all of their faces. Not just the players on the court, but the ones sitting on the bench. And the coaches. I enjoy watching what they’re saying and the expressions on their faces. When you’re sitting behind the team bench, you miss all of that, a key dimension to enjoying the match.
“Okay,” my friend says. “But if you decide to come over to this side, we’ll have a seat saved for you.”
I thank him and we hang up. Saving seats is a good idea at the State Championship Tournament. It’s not just the Lab School vs. Le Jardin. All the schools in the top eight spots, both Division 1 and Division 2, are here, and all their fans are jamming the place as well.
The seats quickly fill in around me. I get some odd looks from all these Le Jardin fans. It’s all over their faces. Why is this Lab School Jr. Bow fan sitting on “our” side?
I do a lot of smiling and nodding. That same friend who called, the one who encouraged me to join the Jr. Bow fans on the other side of the arena, posts a photo of me on FaceBook. The caption reads, “One green shirt.”
This photo takes me aback. I am the only bright green shirt in a sea of white Le Jardin-attired fans. I stand out like the Jolly Green Giant might.
Finally, the buzzer sounds the beginning of the match between us. I can barely see for all the jumping up and down Le Jardin fans around me.
Okay, at this point, I have to tell you that I cheer very loudly when I watch the Jr. Bows play. Any sport. Boys’ volleyball is the one right now, but I’ve cheered both the boys and the girls in several sports throughout the year.
So today, as is consistent with my MO, I am in normal high-volume form. And boy, do I draw some looks as the match gets more intense so I amp up my bellowing accordingly. A few of the more aggrieved Le Jardin fans try to match my voluble enthusiasm by giving me not-very-kind looks as they boost their volume to try and match mine when their team scores a point.
If they only knew how little a 70-year-old guy cares about things like that. I say, well, kinda immature, but hey, in the heat of the competition and all, well tension might emerge from even 14-year-old kiddos.
A Jr. Bow classmate of mine is watching on the Big Island. He texts me. “I see you all sitting alone on the Le Jarding side,” he says. “What’s up with that?”
I text him back: “Yes, I have a kind of plan.”
My booming shouts drive more and more Le Jardin fans away from where I’m sitting. I’m located almost in the middle of their section, so I’m unintentionally pushing them to either side.
I think they must really and truly hate me by now. But we’re all getting along. Enough.
This, I tell you, is one intense match. I’m constantly yelling. And my normally top-volume cheers have moved up several notches over 10. Now there are empty seats galore surrounding me in the otherwise very packed arena.
So, of course, other people who are not bothered by my constant screaming for our team flow in around me. Most of them are Mililani Trojan players and fans and, caught up in my enthusiasm for the Jr. Bows, they begin cheering for our boys as well. One Trojan backer, amazingly, is even louder than I am. Every time she hollers, the remaining Le Jardin fans in our area wince. I wonder if my glasses might shatter.
The entire match is thrilling. Five electric sets. The last time I was this excited about a volleyball game was when the Jr. Bow girls played for the D2 Championship last semester. They lost a nail-biter. Will our boys suffer the same fate?
Well, no they won’t. The University Laboratory School boys’ volleyball team pulls this one out. They are the State D2 Champions. I am screamed hoarse at this point, and a Kamehameha fan who’s taken a seat behind me congratulates me on the win. He’d started cheering for us, too.
I know our opposite side cheering section didn’t win the match for the Jr. Bows. But I do know this. The dozen or so of us did something to the energy of the Le Jardin cheering section, and that, that may have made a little bit of difference.
Go Jr. Bows.
Lanning Lee 