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Negative effects of stadiums on sports
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Standing here, in this arena that is one hundred times larger than my home, I feel like a needle in a haystack. So many people surrounding me it’s like I’m one grain of sand in a whole ocean. The people around the arena form a black and yellow checker board. Their clothing meshes together and looks like a throw. Smelling the concession stand makes me feel like a starving child. The aroma of hotdogs and Italian sausage reminds me of a back yard grill. The smell of melted cheese on nachos makes my stomach growl wishing I had some. I can taste the pretzels as a man and child walk by me with one. The warm bread with coarse salt is delicious.
Then an announcer on a loud intercom yells for the players to come out. The roar of the crowd surrounding me was like being directly behind a jet of an a...
The multi-purpose arena that I have chosen to evaluate is Boston University’s Agganis Arena. This arena is considered to be the next generation of Boston sports and entertainment by incorporating the latest multimedia technologies and providing the finest possible sight lines and views of the action. The arena is located within Boston University's new $225 million John Hancock Student Village, a 10-acre hub of activity designed to be the thriving center of student life and athletics, Agganis Arena is a state-of-the-art, multipurpose sports and entertainment center scheduled to open in January 2005. A 290,000-square-foot premier venue with 6,300 seats for hockey and ice shows, the Arena is expandable to over 7,200 seats for concerts, sporting events, and family shows.
To begin the description of my experience, I arrived at the arena shortly before the
Initially, we had a hard time finding our seats but once discovered the game was quite entertaining and sensational. As was previously stated, we had a hard time finding out seats and yet, I couldn’t help but ponder what aspect of kinesiology the ushers were failing to accomplish by sending us from one place to another thus, the ushers were part of the sports management aspect. Anyhow, once our seats had been located it was off to the vendors to find a nutritiou...
the away team bleachers inside the stadium. A sense of urgency grips them as the first whistle of
It took a while to get in because the line was extremely long but the fans screaming and yelling. The music was playing while the players were warming up. They
Neyland Stadium provides a gathering place where over one hundred thousand people come to cheer for the Tennessee Vols. The stadium, located in the middle of the UT campus, ranks as America’s third largest collegiate stadium with a capacity of 104,079; since people began recording attendance, more than 22.89 million fans have watched Tennessee football in the stadium, and the record attendance was reached when the Vols played the Gators in September 2000(UTsports.com). If you think all you can do is watch the games at home on the couch, think again. You can actually be part of these games and fulfill all your football fan needs. If you come watch a game, it will be well worth your time.
The sounds you can hear at a baseball game are unforgettable. To start off there is not much better than the beautiful sound of a mitt popping when a fastball is rocketed in there by a pitcher. There is the sweet sound of a wooden bat crushing a baseball right after the pitch is thrown. There are fans yelling chants about the other team, and fans getting fired up when the umpire makes a bad call. Whenever someone hits a homerun or scores a run, the crowd makes and exhilarating noise as everyone’s hopes continue to rise. Those are just some of the many sounds you can hear while attending a baseball
As I sat in my comfy theater seat, watching many people file into the Vashon Theater, I pondered the implications of this Super Bowl game. This was the most important game for any sports franchise that had any significance to me. It almost made me shiver, thinking about the joy and celebration that would occur if the Seahawks won the Super Bowl. I listened to the excited chatter all around me, impatient for the game to start, having never experienced an atmosphere so ecstatic, so energetic, so euphoric for a sporting event.
I stood at the front gate of Fenway park, home of the Boston Red Sox, where the Green Monster stands tall, the year of 2013. As soon as I walked in through the front gate, the warm smell of hot buttery popcorn made my mouth water with comfort. This familiar smell brought me back to the times I went to baseball games with my Dad and grandfather. The spots of spilled soda stains stick and sizzle on the cold hard concrete floors surrounding the stadium. The steam of a freshly boiled hot dog fills my nostrils with delight. A few moments later the umpire had a scratchy voice that emitted through the stadium and announced, “Play Ball”. Then the fans all seated waiting for the game to begin. After a few minutes the 1st inning began and one of the most
The feeling is all too familiar, from the front row to the last seats in the bleachers; a
As I sit here with my eyes closed, I imagine a tropical breeze. The warm wet air slides over my face. The humidity seems almost heavy enough to crush me. As I take a deep breath, the realization that this is no tropical air comes crashing in. Instead of the refreshing scent of the ocean, or tropical plants, the taste of salt from sweat and a smell of the human body fill my lungs. The daydream is over. A shrill whistle sounds and the voice of coach Chuck booms through out the room, breaking the peace that was comforting the pain in my shoulder and bringing me back to reality. I was not on some humid island paradise, but rather in the explosive atmosphere of the Hotchkiss High School wrestling room.
CLAP, CLAP, CLAP, CLAP, echoes through my head as I walk to the middle of the mat. "At 160lbs Aidan Conner of La Junta vs. Rodney Jones of Hotchkiss." All I can think of is every bead of sweat, every drip of blood, every mile, every push up, every tear. Why? All of this: just to be victorious. All in preparation for one match, six minutes. For some these six minutes may only be a glimpse, and then again for some it may be the biggest six minutes of their life. Many get the chance to experience it more than once. Some may work harder and want it more than others, but they may never get the chance. All they get is a moral victory. Every kid, every man comes into the tournament with a goal. For some is to win, for some is to place, others are just happy to qualify. These six minutes come on a cold frigid night in February at a place called the Pepsi Center. Once a year this gathering takes place when the small and the large, the best of the best, come to compete in front thousands of people. I am at the Colorado State Wrestling Championships.
The announcer began announcing our team to start the introduction for the game. Since I was the lead-off batter, my name was echoed over the park first. It was at this time that the feeling elevated; the feeling that makes every baseball field so special. As my teammates yelled for me, while I ran to the nearest baseline and faced the crowd, the feeling gave me goose bumps and raised the hairs on the back of my neck. The feeling is so amazing that it will keep me playing baseball for as long as possible because it makes my love for the sport that much more. I can't even begin to explain the complex feeling I get when I walk on a baseball field, but that feeling will always be cherished and hopefully when I pass on my love of baseball to others, they will too understand what that special diamond makes me feel like.
Upon arrival into the jungle of vast buildings, the first thing noticed is the mobbed streets filled with taxi cabs and cars going to and fro in numerous directions, with the scent of exhaust surfing through the air. As you progress deeper into the inner city and exit your vehicle, the aroma of the many restaurants passes through your nostrils and gives you a craving for a ?NY Hot Dog? sold by the street venders on the corner calling out your name. As you continue your journey you are passed by the ongoing flow of pedestrians talking on their cell phones and drinking a Starbucks while enjoying the city. The constant commotion of conversing voices rage up and down the streets as someone calls for a fast taxi. A mixed sound of various music styles all band together to form one wild tune.
A certain familiarity is developed over time that makes it home. Sitting here I can vividly picture being there. I drive my car into the pot-hole filled parking lot off the highway and park in the same spot I always have, people just seem to know that's my spot. Walking around to the back I open the brown door and enter. The familiar damp smell of sweat still pierces my nose when I walk into the hallway even after all these years. The rhythmic beating of the speedbag and clanging of the punching bag hanging from the ceiling echo through the hall. When I walk into the gym I see our instructor Dean with his long dreads sitting at his desk talking on the phone. It sounds as if he is trying to set up some fights for us. I turn my head to the left and see everyone doing their own thing. Chris is kicking the stuffing out of the heavy bag, he thinks he's such a bad-ass. Mitch and Don are goofing around as if they were fifteen, even though they're almost forty. Stretching out is Cara, she's the only female fighter but I wouldn't mess with her.