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For 72 years, Mac Court existed and I could care less. But then I went to a game and a torrid four year affair began.

McArthur Court will get its final farewell today and while my four years wasn’t much in the grand scheme of its existence, it was enough for me to know that this building is special and will always have a prominent place in Oregon Duck history.

It’s 1998, I’m a high school senior and it’s my first time

I’m taking an early January road trip to Eugene to see my future school take on the UCLA Bruins, led by Baron Davis, and I’m awoken to a special building. Time may have burdened its aesthetic and functional appeal, but passionate, adoring fans continue to pump life inside its walls.

I’m in the 300 section, far above the action sitting on a wooden bench. There is a group of rowdy students below and the game is intense. The crowd injects energy throughout the building and I’m either happy to know when the place collapses I’m on top or frightened of the extra distance I’m going to fall.

Davis hits a jumper for UCLA at the buzzer to give UCLA a two point win,  but the losing is overshadowed by the intoxication of this raucous environment in a rickety old gym that shakes with every footstep of 9,087 people. I’m hooked.

It’s 2000 and I’m sitting beneath Mac Court in a dark room

I’ve been to enough games sitting in the student section as a freshman now to know that this building has an aura that you cannot ignore. I have yet to witness what it’s really capable of, but I can sense it. Deep in the bowels of Mac, I sit with 10-20 others and listen to athletic department officials talk about forming an organized group to support the basketball team. We’ll call it the Pit Crew.

It’s Thursday, January 27, 2000 and an oompa loompa is having problems with his free throw.

The Pit Crew at its finest.

Yes, Brandon Granville*, the basket is shaking and yes, you still have to make your free throw. You can point and complain to the ref. They can make an announcement to calm everyone down, they can even award you an extra free throw, but you simply can’t change a building’s character. That’s just how the game  is played here at Mac Court.

*couldn’t verify this was Brandon Granville taking the free throw but that’s my memory and I’m sticking to it!

It’s Thursday, March 2, 2000 and I’ve witnessed the greatest finish ever

Only in a building like this can a team be down four points with what, four, maybe five seconds left on the clock and still hope (expect?) to win. Arizona State lets Oregon’s Ben Lindquist heave a length of the court pass to Alex Scales who easily drills a three point jumper to cut the lead to one.

There’s maybe 1 or 2 seconds left now, Ducks down 1. ASU struggles to inbound the ball and overthrows the intended target. No one touches the ball as it goes out of bounds, the clock never starts and Oregon gets possession under its own basket. This time, the Sun Devils play some defense and force an imperfect pass beyond half court that sails past one ASU player and into the hands of Darius Wright who has just enough time to turn and launch a 30 foot prayer.

And it’s answered. Swish.

Ducks win and pandemonium ensues. Its the loudest noise I’ve ever heard and we’re deliriously running on the court. I can only imagine what those that left early are thinking as they hear the cheers that slip through the cracks of The Pit’s aging walls.

It’s two days later and the madness won’t stop

Oregon gets down by 17 to the nation’s number three team, Arizona. With around 12 minutes to go, Oregon goes on a tear and the building stirs to life. Ducks win by five and it’s time to rush the court.

Again.

What a weekend.

It’s Thursday, Feb. 22, 2001 and the cheers are for me

UCLA is always a big deal and this time around, Sports Illustrated’s Grant Wahl is in town to cover the game. He comes by our front row seats and a friend of mine tells him I’m an aspiring journalist (though that ship had sailed) that needs an internship. Wahl laughs it off and that’s that.

Fast forward to an early timeout and I stand behind the three point line with a basketball, ready to shoot. I float a nervous airball (maybe two) but hit the required 5 threes – on just 7 shots! – well before the timer runs out. I turn and “sshh” the UCLA bench (as if they care). At least once in these four short years, the crowds cheers are intended solely for me.

At halftime, Wahl comes back and says SI could use some three-point shooters and hands me his contact info. My friend, roommate and Pit Crew prez extraordinaire, Nate Jolly, wins the halftime bingo contest.

Mac Court is powerful in ways you don’t even know.

It’s late 2001 and the Pit Crew doesn’t have t-shirts for the 01-02 season

Yikes, I'd like a redo, but it's an original.

Nike isn’t going to help out with our Pit Crew shirts this year and we’re running out of time. Nate and I, armed only with a computer lab running Adobe Illustrator, slave away to create something out of thin air. Graphic design artists, we are not, but the Pit Crew logo for at least the next four years is born.

Present-day me cringes at the sight of it now, but everyone starts somewhere.

Our logo is now on hundreds of shirts worn to every game. We’ve given something back to the building that feels like home.

It’s Saturday, Feb. 23, 2002 and a senior is having his moment

It’s the last game and Oregon is on the verge of an undefeated record within the cozy confines of McArthur Court. Freddie Jones, who I was lucky enough to watch and root for in high school as well, is possessed by some sort of Mac Court demon and unleashes hell on the Huskies. If I didn’t have stats to prove otherwise, I’d swear he had 53 points in the first 10 minutes of the game.

He’s draining threes and throwing down posterizing dunks while showing more emotion than ever before in his career. Clearly, on this, his last game ever at Mac Court, he knows it’s a special moment and understands what it means to play in this building for this crowd with this uniform.

It’s Saturday, March 1, 2003 and we bid thee farewell, Coach Lavin

We’ve organized a party thrown by the Pit Crew for Steve Lavin. We’re calling it the “Farewell Lavin Tour” as everyone knows he’s as good as fired at season’s end. Lavin loves it, waves to the crowd and gives us a wink. Even a dead man walking for the opposition knows how special Mac Court is.

It’s the same day and Lavin isn’t the only one saying goodbye

Before Mac Court really stirs to life, the Pit Crew is in place

Following Oregon’s 31 point victory, I look up in the rafters where I watched my first game and know this is it. No more of my usual front row seat. No more early entry into the building and getting to watch Mac Court transform from gentle to enraged. No more banging on the doors insisting we be let in, no more interacting with Fox Sports announcers and having the ear of opposing players.

There will be no more pounding on the walls leading to the Ducks dressing room as they ready themselves to take the court, nor will there be another day of jumping up and down screaming at the top of our lungs.

My time with Mac Court is over. It’s someone else’s turn…that is, until it’s gone forever.

It’s Saturday, March 6, 2010 and someone has to turn the lights off

Mac, it’s been fun. Change is inevitable and it’s for the good, but you’ve been a special building. My memories are but a four year blip on a long, illustrious history that has spanned the Tall Firs, Webfoots, Kamikaze Kids and numerous other forgotten eras. Thanks for the good times you’ve given to Duck fans of all ages. You will be missed.