Boston is a major sports town. That may seem obvious, but it was news to me when I moved here. Then again, I’m not exactly informed about sports. I didn’t even know that the Superbowl was upon us – or that the New England Patriots were playing in it – until I heard about it on NPR the day before.

Thus it was unexpectedly that I found myself at TD Garden watching a Boston Celtics game in December. My friend and her spouse were in town for his work, and on their last night they invited me and my boyfriend to a basketball game. I laughed. Why not?

TD Garden

We drove in their rental car and parked in the stadium’s vast garage. After clearing security we emerged onto a wide landing (the loge or main concourse) where a dozen vendors were selling kielbasas, barbecue, and beer. We bought food and entered the arena through a numbered doorway.

Our tickets were high up, and the stairs surprisingly steep. The seats themselves were smallish and close together. Some people sat in puffy winter jackets, while others balled up coats on their laps. Try balancing a hot dog and fries on top of that!

From our perspective, the view was dominated by a massive, four-sided electronic display suspended over the court at a height lower than our seats – positioned, in a way, between us and the game. The hardwood floor gleamed down below.

Game Time

Not much happened basketball-wise that I can remember. Supposedly, the teams were both good and evenly matched. The Celtics won by a few points.

I went and bought seconds before halftime. I paid $6 for fries and asked where I could find a water fountain. Apparently there are no public water fountains at TD Garden.

I remember the half-time schedule better than the game. It was different than I expected. For example, the Celtics honored a local man for exceptional community service as part of their program “Heroes Among Us”. “That’s so random,” I shouted to my boyfriend, “but also kind of cool.” I shouted because it was too loud for indoor voices.

Later they played a short video on the displays, in which each of the Celtics tried to spell the last name of their teammate Semi Ojeleye, most of them failing badly. It was silly and cute.

The weirdest part for me was the cheerleading. Maybe if I watched enough pro men’s sports I might eventually become inured to it, but it’s hard to imagine not being creeped out by the spectacle of young women sexed-up and put on display. And then I think about how commonplace that spectacle is, and it’s a huge downer.

Meanwhile, the electronic displays stole the show. The crowd danced, posed, and waved throughout the game, attempting to get on camera. I tried to keep my eyes on the court, but the screen was like a huge magnet, exerting a constant pull until my gaze snapped back to it. From where I sat, the display became the focal point of my awareness, the action below fading in the background.

Musings

The game seemed to go on forever. How does a 48-minute match take over two hours? I was chatting contentedly with my friend, wondering whether I should go buy more food, when I suddenly suspected that I was being played. I bet they stretch out the game on purpose to make you buy more food and alcohol – and to make people at home watch commercials.

I had a great time with my friends, but in terms of basketball, I probably had more fun watching the one high school game that I attended. There were no long breaks, much less food to distract me, and no screens – just a basketball game where I could pay attention and enjoy the drama of a live competition.

Plus, watching the Celtics play, I didn’t know anyone’s personality or backstory. It must be more fun to watch sports when you follow specific athletes or coaches or teams. I might as well have been watching Season 3 of some show without knowing any of the characters or plot lines.

I suppose the spectacle wasn’t intended for me, anyway. It’s a fluke that I was there at all; I’m not exactly the NBA’s target audience. I probably make a lousy sports fan.