On Sunday afternoon, all the men in my family—including my nephew—went to Williams Arena to see the Golden Gophers play Northwestern. Minnesota won the game, 75-52.
It was my nephew’s first basketball game, and he was very excited. The Northwestern game was the only conference game of the season in which the starting time—3:00 p.m.—was appropriate for a six-year old. All other home conference games this season are night games.
We have not been attending Golden Gopher games this season; there have simply been too many other things on our schedules.
We would not have attended the Northwestern game, either, except it was the only game of the season suitable for my nephew. When we had asked him whether he wanted to go to a basketball game, he quite naturally had answered, “Yes”—so we obtained tickets to the lone afternoon game on the schedule. It may turn out to be the only game of the season for all of us.
My nephew enjoyed the game. It was the venue and the atmosphere and the noise and the band and the excitement of the large crowd that most appealed to him. The athletic contest itself was of much less interest to him; the rules and finer points of basketball are too arcane for a six-year-old.
We left the game midway through the second half. My nephew, who had missed out on his afternoon nap, was growing tired, and he had seen enough of the game. By 4:30 p.m., he was ready to go home and have his dinner—which he was able to eat at the normal hour.