My Boys are in Sin City

Lee. Jonathan, Chris, Jackson, Jimmer... and the rest of them. Yep! My. Boys. The Mountain West tournament is going on right now. I'm happily watching TV: BYU vs. Air Force. Go Cougs!

Since 2003, I have found myself happily munching on hot dogs and knocking back caffeine-free soft drinks in the Marriott Center for almost every home game. I absolutely love it when each game starts. Up on the big screen this year, Lee Cummard is announcing "It's time" and then shutting off the arena lights. The crowd sees Jonathan Tavernari with blue flames on his hands. Jimmer Fredette doin' some sort of primal scream. I. Love. It. It makes me sit in my seat and smile -- Big. The whole place full of people. The student section standing throughout the whole game. (Not me. I'm sitting, thank you very much. That's the benefit of being one of the 'old folks' in the crowd.) I love it when they shout out "left, right, left, right" as any opponent player walks to the bench after fouling out. I love the stress and tension of a close game. I love open jumpers for three. I love Cosmo -- he can do about anything and I smile. I like it when the cheerleaders do back flips after every made free throw. However, not to darken the mood, but... I have to confess...(may all my sisters-in-law forgive me)... I do NOT love it when the Cougarettes dance. What the heck is that? It's a flippin' athletic event, people. Why do we have to have vignettes of a dance recital (complete with costumes) throughout the game? Okay, I guess I get it if they are part of the half-time entertainment, but really? Really? During timeouts? Five to six times a game? I have NEVER understood this.

A few times since 2003, during half-time or before a game, some elderly woman will come out on the floor... a different one each time. The announcer will say something like "sweet 'Mabel Ladene Sondersen' (name fictionalized) has been a faithful Cougar fan attending all home games for the past twenty years by herself and for forty years prior to that she came with her late husband Lavar LaRon Sondersen." The announcer will tell of the numerous afghans she has crocheted for the families of freshmen players, the blue and white curtains in her fruit room and her Utah State Fair award-winning "Cougar Blue"-berry Pie. I secretly want to be that woman. Okay, it's not like I want to change my name or wish death on my spouse. Nor do I have any plans to start crocheting. But if watching BYU games is always going to feel as exhilarating as it does now, I'd have to seriously think twice before I moved away from here for my retirement years.

There's something else about BYU games that I love. It has nothing to do with the players (at least not directly) and everything to do with Benjy. I have known Benjy since he was very little. His dad, Glen, was my bishop when I was in Primary. Later, when I decided to clean up my act and go on a mission, Glen was the stake president who walked me through the process... lovingly. He was the stake president that welcomed me home. And... many years later, he was the sealer that married The Captain and me. I've spent time in conversations with Glen's wife, Kaye. Glen and Kaye were lifelong friends of my parents. Their daughter, Jami and her husband Steve are friends of mine. Benjy is Glen and Kaye's youngest son. He's likely in his mid-to-late thirties now. He lives with his parents. He has Down's Syndrome.

Benjy and his dad have season tickets to the BYU basketball games, too. The Captain and I have sat one section away from them for the past three years. There is nothing like watching Benjy stand, cheer and dance while he sings the Cougar Fight Song -- borrowing moves from both the cheerleaders and the Cougarettes. And yes, he knows every word. He stands and celebrates every time the band plays. His hips are twisting and bouncing. His arms are flailing with his own precision movements. His face is rapturous. It's such a full-soul expression of glee and joy. I watch him two or three times a game. I always smile. Sometimes The Captain will nudge me and point over in Benjy's direction. Sometimes my eyes tear up. Sometimes the Captain's do. I also watch the people around Benjy. You see, I feel a bit protective of him, given my history with his family. The seats behind him generally have different faces in them game to game. Sometimes they laugh a bit while Benjy dances. But, the seats in the row in front of him are filled with other "seasoned" ticket holders. Seasoned as in having sat in the same seats for a few years, and seasoned as in a generation or two ahead of college freshmen. They know Benjy and Glen. After every Fight Song, the four of them reach back and Benjy gives each of them a high-five.

There's something about watching BYU basketball. Being there to see it, to experience it. Not everyone "gets" it. Benjy does, though. He's better at conveying what it feels like than I am.