All I wanna do is make some noise

Last Wednesday night, clad in bright orange, sophomore Ben Easter found himself in a place where it's only safe to wear navy blue: the Duke student cheering section at Cameron Indoor Stadium.

But that didn't stop him from doing what he had come to do: root for Princeton. And he even lived to tell the story.

It might not be a feat of heroic proportions, but going into the Blue Devils' den takes guts. The devoted — some would say pathologically obsessed — fans who inhabit those stands are called the Cameron Crazies for a reason, and it's not just because Dookies like alliteration.

Several hundred Princeton fans made the trip to Durham, N.C. for the game, but the vast majority clumped together, seeking safety in numbers. The stands behind the Tigers' bench looked like Jadwin South, thanks to a bushel of Reunions jacket-wearing alums and a dozen boisterous, orange poncho-clad friends of Judson Wallace.

Ben, however, was alone. Attending the game with two friends from home, he was one of just a handful of Princeton students scattered amongst the Crazies. His ticket, bought through the Princeton athletic department, had pointed him to those seats, so that's where he sat — or rather stood, since no one ever sits at a Duke basketball game.

Once he was there, he joined in the verbal warfare. On several occasions, he says, he had the audacity to scream loudly as a Blue Devil attempted a foul shot. Sure, 500 Crazies pointed at him and chanted mean things, but it was worth it: Daniel Ewing missed a free throw after one of the hollers.

In the end, he walked away respecting the Duke fans because they respected Princeton. He saw them cheering when Will Venable got up uninjured after a rough fall to the floor, saw them praising Venable's remarkable play after the game.

So even though the Tigers lost, Ben needed just one word to sum up his trip: "Awesome."

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Like Ben, I was in Durham on Wednesday night. And like Ben, I had an unabashedly awesome time.

First of all, Duke's press row is close enough to the court that I could smell J.J. Reddick's sweat. Better yet, my seat was free. Did I mention the complimentary snacks and drinks? Topping things off, I even got to ask Coach K. a question in the post-game press conference.

OK, I'll stop gloating.

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But despite the perks of a media pass, I was a bit jealous of Ben and the other Princetonians in the gym: they could cheer.

After two and half years of sitting on press row, I've trained myself not to visibly root for the Tigers. Every so often, I admit, I subtly pump my fist or mutter under my breath at the refs. I also recently started a feud with the sports editor of the Harvard Crimson, but that's another story. For the most part, as the saying goes, "There's no cheering in the press box."

It's tough though, because in my heart, I'm still rooting. I got into sports writing because I'm a fan — a fan who likes to support my teams with passion. So, on the rare occasions when I watch Princeton on TV, I get out all my pent-up cheering. When the Tigers lost to Temple last month on a suspect non-goaltending call, it's possible I screamed some very naughty words from the comfort of my living room.

I miss cheering the most when covering away games. When the Jadwin Jungle is screaming its lungs out right behind me, I know it's being taken care of. On the road, though, it's a different story.

At Duke, a middle-aged woman sitting behind me cried out, "You're the man, Dan," every time Ewing touched the ball; meanwhile, her young son kept yelling, "You can do it, J.J." and bumping into me. A few rows back, a five-and-a-half-foot tall man teased Scott Greenman for being short.

I'm confident the cheers and jeers didn't bother the Tigers on the court. And they didn't affect my reporting performance, either — I actually rather enjoyed the hostile environment.

My senior year in high school, after I'd gotten into Princeton, I went to that year's Penn-Princeton game at the Palestra with the family of one of my best friends. After making the five-hour drive with four Penn alums — listening to Quaker fight songs the whole way — I cheered my little pre-frosh heart out for Princeton.

The Tigers ended up losing the game badly, but I still remember it fondly as my first experience as a real Princetonian — supporting my school with everything I had.

I think it's safe to say that every student at this University fully believes that Princeton is better than Penn or Duke or any place else. So the next time you get a chance to demonstrate that belief, take a cue from the Crazies and let loose. Yelling your heart out, especially when surrounded by opponent fans, can be a whole lot of fun.

Besides, it's much more respectable than dousing your rivals with motor oil while they sleep.