2008 Woodie Awards
Otto Arena: a home away from home away from home
by Andrew Miller
Issue date: 1/29/08
Section: Voices
Though no one has ever mistaken me for famished, I was even chubbier growing up. Don't get me wrong - I was active. My parents enlisted me into little league baseball and pee-wee football where I had moderate success, but basketball was borderline traumatic. Even as youth sports swung toward participation and building self-esteem, I spent many-a-game fixed in my folding chair, watching on and waiting for a growth spurt.
It never came.
I think like most disillusioned 20-somethings, I feel I was a capable athlete in my youth. I had a good arm playing catcher and always started as an offensive linemen. But I never found my place on the basketball court. Height trumps gerth in this cruelest of sport, and that's still apparent as I spend most of my afternoons at Otto Arena, just as hopeless as the 12-year-old my mother described as not fat, but "husky." (I was pretty fat, Mom.)
For those who haven't seen it, all three courts at Otto are filled with pick-up games by 3 p.m. each weekday, while weekends find players showing up as soon as their hangovers have worn off. It's always the same guys and always the same game: First to 15, ones and twos, straight-up.
But there's more to it.
Otto has become something like a second home for many. I love walking in on any given afternoon and seeing the gym full, even knowing I may have to wait two or three games to get in. It's one of the few times and places on campus where students truly bond. There's no alcohol. There's no fee. There's no attendance requirement. If you want to define "student union" as "a central location on campus where students convene," Centennial has nothing on Otto.
I guess I feel fortunate I found that increasingly illusive "thing to do" since many students complain Mankato is either a night at the movies or a night at the bars. I've had plenty of both, and nothing has been as continually fulfilling as basketball. Granted, I'm much better at plopping into a chair and watching a movie or stumbling around with a whiskey sour in hand, but at least I have that something to look forward to every day.
It's not perfect, of course. Some guys play like it's a continuation of their expired collegiate careers while others never got over that loss in the high school state tournament. I pool myself with those who know their abilities are limited (to put it nicely), but my love for basketball offsets my hatred of failure. If at the end of the day the worst thing I did was miss an open lay-up, I think I can live with myself.
I haven't done it all at Minnesota State, but there's not much I haven't seen or done on this campus. (God knows I have given myself plenty of time.) At a time when administration is up in arms about how to dissuade students from drinking, when the city continues to fail to provide entertainment options and when students cease using their imaginations, I'm glad there is Otto.
Andrew Miller is a Reporter staff writer
It never came.
I think like most disillusioned 20-somethings, I feel I was a capable athlete in my youth. I had a good arm playing catcher and always started as an offensive linemen. But I never found my place on the basketball court. Height trumps gerth in this cruelest of sport, and that's still apparent as I spend most of my afternoons at Otto Arena, just as hopeless as the 12-year-old my mother described as not fat, but "husky." (I was pretty fat, Mom.)
For those who haven't seen it, all three courts at Otto are filled with pick-up games by 3 p.m. each weekday, while weekends find players showing up as soon as their hangovers have worn off. It's always the same guys and always the same game: First to 15, ones and twos, straight-up.
But there's more to it.
Otto has become something like a second home for many. I love walking in on any given afternoon and seeing the gym full, even knowing I may have to wait two or three games to get in. It's one of the few times and places on campus where students truly bond. There's no alcohol. There's no fee. There's no attendance requirement. If you want to define "student union" as "a central location on campus where students convene," Centennial has nothing on Otto.
I guess I feel fortunate I found that increasingly illusive "thing to do" since many students complain Mankato is either a night at the movies or a night at the bars. I've had plenty of both, and nothing has been as continually fulfilling as basketball. Granted, I'm much better at plopping into a chair and watching a movie or stumbling around with a whiskey sour in hand, but at least I have that something to look forward to every day.
It's not perfect, of course. Some guys play like it's a continuation of their expired collegiate careers while others never got over that loss in the high school state tournament. I pool myself with those who know their abilities are limited (to put it nicely), but my love for basketball offsets my hatred of failure. If at the end of the day the worst thing I did was miss an open lay-up, I think I can live with myself.
I haven't done it all at Minnesota State, but there's not much I haven't seen or done on this campus. (God knows I have given myself plenty of time.) At a time when administration is up in arms about how to dissuade students from drinking, when the city continues to fail to provide entertainment options and when students cease using their imaginations, I'm glad there is Otto.
Andrew Miller is a Reporter staff writer
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