Sports writer - Grant writer

Category: UMass Lowell Riverhawks

Calling Out the Superfans and the Tsongas Arena Shopping Cart

Oh, the Superfans.

Oh, the Superfans.

They wear mustard colored cheap t-shirts with burgundy writing, either given out or sold by their bookstore.  Maybe 2% of them own hockey jerseys.  And if the hockey team is playing at the same time as their football or basketball team, they magically dissapear.

Ladies and gentlemen, I present to you the Boston College Superfans.

The Superfans, or Stuperfans, or whatever you wish to refer to them as, are oft-complained about.  I really don’t dislike them, I’m just amazed at their…indifference? Lack of jerseys? Bandwagon jumping? Pep band’s rendition of Ridin’ Dirty by Chamillionaire? (You have not lived until you’ve heard a tuba blast out the first few lines of that song.  Really.  It’s made my Beanpot the last two years.)

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The Giant Garden Sleepover Party

(Or The Skating Monk takes on Semi-Threatening Underrated Cat-Like-Animals)

When I was a Brownie Girl Scout, my troop partook in the Strasenberg Planetarium Sleepover. The name of this program pretty much explains it – roughly 50 Girl Scouts take over the planetarium for an overnight and stay up late watching every show in the planetarium’s rotation. You then get two hours of sleep in the planetarium lobby, where they then wake you up at an ungodly hour by blasting “Here Comes the Sun” and handing you a Wegmans donut and orange juice before forcing you out so they can open for a more profitable event. As you can tell, it was the highlight of the year, especially when your troop eschews camping, like mine did. (We didn’t like getting dirty. Or ticks. Or dampness.)

On a late March Friday evening, I took part in the Great Garden Sleepover Party, or as everyone else knows it as, the Hockey East Semifinals. I was there from 5:15pm – five minutes into the first semifinal game between the University of New Hampshire and Boston College – until the bitter end of the Boston University versus Vermont game – with a final whistle at 1:05am. Such an evening epitomized college hockey for me – spirited, crazy, and a true sports fans dream.

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On Excitement and Nervousness

I remember this combination of dread and excitement. I remember feeling it every morning of every 49ers playoff game in January 1995, back when I eschewed the Bills to make lovey-dovey eyes every time Steve Young appeared on the television screen or sports section. (I had just turned 13 – ripe age for a celebrity mega crush!) I wanted Steve Young and the 49ers to win the Super Bowl so badly that they, and not my then sickly two month old little brother, was what I prayed for when my CCD instructor made us repeat the Apostles Creed like the Rosary was made of it. (There’s a reason it’s not.) Continue reading

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