GAME 9: IN THE CRIMINAL JUSTICE SYSTEM...

Welcome to the Bronx. This is 'Suits'. He will break your face.

Ever feel like you're in an episode of Law & Order? If you haven't, you've never been to Fordham University in the Bronx. The 9th game in our little tour of Gotham college hoops outposts brought us to the infamous borough oft-associated with gang violence, widespread arson and the Son of Sam. Sure, we'd visited the Bronx before, but it was some fairy-tale, fantasyland version of the Bronx known as Riverdale. Doesn't count. This was the real shit.

My fellow Nut, referred to as both Ducats and Magellan in previous entries and identified by the handle of Briscoe here, gets huge kudos for her willingness to make the adventurous trek on a Thursday night to the upper reaches of the Bronx for a 9 pm tip time between Fordham and UMass. We met at a bar in the relatively safe oasis of Manhattan to drink enough courage before heading north nearly 200 blocks. The D-train (for 'Death'?) dropped us at Fordham Road, just south of 200th St. As we ascended the stairs to exit the station, we called our families to say goodbye and checked to make sure our firearms were locked and loaded. We were good to go.

Once we surfaced, we realized just how far from our destination (aka 'the nearest bar') we actually were. We quickly realized we were going to have to ride a bus. Oh the horror. Still, it got us right quick to Arthur Ave., the storied heart of old Italian Bronx. This is where Jake friggin' Lamotta used to knock the snot out of people. After retiring from boxing, Lamotta opened up a few bars in the neighborhood, one of which could have easily been Mugz's, where Briscoe and I ended up for a pre-game beer and a shot. And no, that's not a typo, that's exactly what the buzzing, broken neon above the door said.

He didn't excel at spelling.

Mugz's is where we met Suits, who, despite the earlier reference to face-breaking, is actually a very nice guy. We asked Suits for a little history on the place, but sadly he did not regale us with tales of Lamotta and Cus D'Amato breaking skulls and sucking back Ballantine's together. No, instead he informed us that Mugz's 'has been a Fordham bar since 1989...' Then, before we had a chance to ask him what it was before that, he became distracted by the new episode of Smallville glowing from the small TV above the bar. Suddenly, things felt a lot less dangerous -- and whole lot less interesting -- so we downed our drinks and bade Suits a fond farewell. I'm sure he would've returned the sentiment had he not been so engrossed in the intense, on-screen chemistry between Lex and Lois.

As difficult as it was, we pulled ourselves out of Mugz's and made the short walk across a gorgeous campus to the dank, sweaty confines of the oldest gymnasium still in use in Division I college basketball, Rose Hill Gym. It was game time, Bronx-style.

GAME 9: UMass Minutemen (17-7) vs. Fordham Rams (13-10)
Tonight was special. Tonight, the bright lights of ESPN shone on this tiny gym at the center of the old Bronck farm. Ok, the dim bulbs of ESPN2, but still, the game was on national TV, and the crowd was pumped. The seats were filled. The students were loud. People sported body paint. And one guy had a Mexican wrestling mask on. Beautiful.

Ole.

Briscoe and I quickly found a seat a few rows up from the UMass bench. Looking around, we noticed most of the bodies around us were 1) Not painted. 2) Not sporting Fordham colors. And 3) Old. We weren't having any of that noise. Within about 30 seconds we had done the right thing and crammed ourselves into the student section right behind the basket. I was within high-fiving distance of wrestling mask guy. It was perfect. It's been a few years -- ok, more than a decade -- since I last attended a basketball game in which I stood from start to finish. Tonight, fueled by the ale of Mugz's and the spirit surrounding me, Briscoe and I would pull it off.

We even remained standing through the lameness of this:



In case the video doesn't do this justice, that guy in what appears to be a turban is apparently supposed to be a Minuteman. As the two Rams mascots converge on him to either beat or possibly rape him, the great reveal shows that he's actually sporting a Fordham t-shirt. All involved become friends, the crowd roars, and we remained standing.

Frankly, as lame as that little sketch was, it was the only reason to stand during the first part of the game. By far, it was the most thrilling and best executed moment of the first 10 minutes. Check out the scoreboard at the 10:36 mark:



Good god. Seriously, it was ugly. It was painful. It was slow. And yet, we remained standing. Seriously, a medal was in order.

Luckily, both teams picked it up after that point, UMass jumping out to a 10-point lead in a matter of minutes, only to be answered by a furious Fordham surge that brought the Rams within 3 at the break. And that's when I spotted this guy:



If you'll recall from our earlier experience in Riverdale, this is Freddy Sez, frequent pan-banging denizen of Yankee Stadium and what I thought was a loyal Manhattan Jasper fan. But now, seeing him here at a Fordham game, pan firmly in hand, I had to question the guy's allegiance. He was two-timing the Jaspers, dressed in Fordham scarlet. He was a scarlet harlot. It was a crushing realization, kind of like finding out that Santa Claus doesn't exist. I needed answers.

During halftime, I tracked Freddy down outside the gym to demand an explanation. I told him we'd seen him earlier in the season at the Jaspers game and I pleaded with him, "how can you cheer for both teams Freddy? how can you do it??" My voice rising in exasperation and anger, I was ready to go all Lamotta on him. And then, he answered: His one good eye looked straight at me and through a toothless grin, Freddy Sez said "I cheer for the Bronx."

Go on Freddy. Keep banging that pan.

After that, there really isn't much point in recapping the 2nd half, particularly given the fact that the hometown Rams completely ran out of steam and ended up losing by almost 20. Freddy's heartfelt profession of loyalty to 'da Bronx was more than enough to make for a satisfactory evening.

We did stay 'till the end, and we did remain standing the entire time. By the time we filed out of Rose Hill, we too were loyal to the Bronx. So much so in fact, we went back to the Mugz's to share in the revelry of a blowout loss with the Fordham faithful. It is, after all, 'a Fordham bar.' Since 1989 anyway. Suits says so. And if you disagree? Well, he'll break your face. Bronx style.

FINAL: 74 59 (recap)

Bronx gypsy cab.