The Gophers play the No. 5 team in the country, Michigan, at home on Thursday night. At roughly the same time only a few miles away, the Timberwolves play one of the NBA's best teams, the Los Angeles Clippers.
In terms of rooting interest among Twin Cities hoops fans, there's no comparison in choosing between those two viewing options. The Gophers own the winter months when the basketball team is good and the Barn comes alive. That just hasn't happened in a long time.
The sports landscape around here lately has resembled a frozen abyss once Vikings season concludes, a cold, dark interlude until we turn our attention to spring training and the NFL draft.
The Gophers are starting to breathe life into a bland basketball scene. Their fast start, top-10 national ranking and unselfish style of play have captured fan interest and turned Williams Arena into a destination once again. Thursday's clash with Michigan represents a scalper's delight and a chance for the Barn to reveal its soul after years of dormancy.
The Gophers have an opportunity to claim center stage in a season that began with more intrigue focused on the Target Center tenants. That's not necessarily a knock on the Wolves, though. They positioned themselves to return to relevance when they removed some dead weight and assembled a more professional outfit this season. But knuckle pushups and an assortment of injuries have turned their promising season into a real buzzkill.
Talk to long-time followers of Twin Cities sports and they contend that a relevant Gophers basketball team ranks third in popularity, behind only the Vikings and Twins. The old guard wax poetic about spending snowy Saturday afternoons inside the Barn when the building shook and their heads pounded because of the intense noise. They recall stories -- or an old wives' tale? -- about a frustrated fire marshal turning a blind eye to the turnstile count as bodies crammed inside to supply a suffocating home-court advantage. The anticipation of a big game at the Barn made the wait insufferably long.
The romanticism gained a foothold under Bill Musselman in the early 1970s and picked up a new generation as Clem Haskins built a Final Four program. But those warm memories became just that as an academic scandal and substandard product knocked the program into irrelevancy. As a result, the Barn began to show its warts.
Having migrated here in 2000, the mysticism surrounding the old arena and raised court escaped me. Frankly, I didn't understand the love affair and questioned the effect Williams Arena had in recruiting because young kids like shiny new things. They appreciate bling more than tradition.
