The frustrations of a Princeton die-hard

"Princeton sucks, Princeton sucks."

Now let me preface this column by saying that I don't believe the above quote, but rather heard them this past weekend when sitting as a spectator at a number of Princeton athletic events.

My ears, and those of the few Tiger fans around me, were rendered helpless by the onslaught of vulgar chants hurled at our innocent University by the blood-red Cornell hockey faithful and the ravenous Johns Hopkins lacrosse groupies.

What specifically dismayed me was my observation of the dearth of Princeton students in attendance at these games. These fans might have served to fire back and put these ignorant others in their place with more creative insults, the kind which only Princetonians can think up.

Let me paint a more vivid picture of exactly what I am talking about.

At Friday's hockey game versus Cornell, held in the intimate confines of Princeton's Baker Rink, Princeton's orange became replaced by Cornell's red.

Even before the puck dropped, Big Red fans made their mark. During warm-ups, the fans held up and shook newspapers. I didn't understand completely what they were trying to say, though it seemed as if they just wanted to let us know that even at Cornell they can read.

Their band, loud and obnoxious, drowned out all noise, though I could still hear chants of "Go Red" from the Cornell fans sitting to my left and to my right, behind and in front of me. I've never been to Ithaca before, though I felt pretty close Friday night, and it felt pretty bad.

Saturday's lacrosse game against Johns Hopkins was another contest in which I found myself questioning exactly where I was situated. Had I unknowingly traveled to Baltimore? The ubiquity of Hopkins fans made it seem so.

Indeed, Blue Jay fans were everywhere — drinking in the parking lot, shouting obscenities in the stands, clogging the concession lines, passed out in the bathroom. Everywhere. They even brought their band, a fact which I think is pathetic but also strangely admirable. Where was our band?

The sound of Princeton cheers was no match to the uncontrolled raucous of Johns Hopkins' side. Every event, from a goal to a face-off to a timeout, was a cause for cheer. Even during the halftime show, they couldn't shut-up.

I recall one incident in which a fan, wearing one of those cheap orange Princeton t-shirts, stood up in front of the crowd, as if to start a cheer. Yet as he removed his hands from his abdomen the word "Sucks" appeared under Princeton. I thought to myself two things — one, what a waste of a good t-shirt, and two, boy I'd love to beat the crap out of that kid — But I didn't, if only because I feared that if I did the multitude of Blue Jays' fans would then come and peck me to death.

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As a Princeton fan, it is always troubling for me to see fans in support of opposing teams that hold signs that read, "When you thought it couldn't get whiter at Princeton, it snows." But if memory serves me correctly, this same sign was at the Penn basketball game. It's even worse when I hear comments such as "Princeton blows," with accompanying hand gestures and even facial expressions.

It's frustrating for the simple reason that it's an insult, albeit of a superficial kind, but an insult none the less.

It is particularly frustrating when I hear direct insults to Princeton athletic teams when Princeton is the home team. It has become painfully obvious to me this weekend that fans from other schools are infinitely more supportive and enthusiastic for their athletic programs, even dominating sports events, attendance-wise, during Princeton home games.

These enemy fans drown out the Princeton crowd noise, completely reversing the home-field advantage. I can only wonder what Princeton athletes are thinking when they hear chants of "Princeton sucks" even as they don their home whites.

Let it be known that this column shouldn't serve as another plea for fan support. That's been done before, and it never helps. Students will be what they'll be, in the sense that we will always lead busy lives in which attendance at sporting events is an infrequent luxury. Sadly, a day will always only have 24 hours, and a weekend only two days.

This, instead, is an apology. It's to say to those Princeton athletes for whom boos are the order of the day, and for whom a sea of Princeton orange seems like a distant memory, or no memory at all, that we true fans are there in body or in spirit, cheering in our hearts louder than words can ring.

And if that isn't enough, do what you do best — destroy the opposition — for that is the best remedy to render an opposing crowd silent.