#but like mostly it was THIS...Sting's suits (maybe 200 k was the figure for the stage as well as costumes and lighting etc...but his point

[cinemaocd]

I love this concert

[junker-town]

The Big East tournament quarterfinals lasted for one eerie, pointless half

Noah K. Murray-USA TODAY Sports

It was quite the different scene inside the nearly empty Madison Square Garden on Thursday.

NEW YORK — For college basketball fans in New York, Big East tournament Thursday is more than the quarterfinal day. It’s a ritual started 40 years ago and perfected slowly over time.

It starts that morning with a call into work. You can’t make it in today. Came down with something overnight … Carlesimonia if you’re a Seton Hall fan, or maybe Hoyafluenza.

The first game starts at noon. You go watch the No. 1 seed coast to victory as the arena slowly fills and your early afternoon beer slowly empties. The No. 4 vs. No. 5 game is next and it’s a little more competitive. That ends around 4:30 p.m. and it’s time for a quick bite at one of the dozens of bars in Manhattan’s West 30s. You’re back in the building well before 7 p.m. for the nightcap: the two-seed vs. seven-seed game and the three vs. six. The event ends around midnight, and by that point you’ve watched eight power conference teams battle it out in an arena that just feels like it was made for college basketball.

It’s one of the great days on the New York sports calendar.

In 2020, with the coronavirus spreading rapidly throughout the country, the sacred ritual came to an eerie halt when the Big East canceled its tournament at halftime of the first quarterfinal game.

It became clear early Wednesday that this could happen and the possibility increased during the first-round doubleheader when the league announced it would play the quarterfinals in front of an audience limited to 200 immediate family members of players and staff from each team.

Yeah, fictional cases of Carlesimonia ended real fast in favor of something far more real.

Oddly, it never seemed like the nearly empty arena games were going to happen, even as the announcement was made Wednesday. The situation had escalated so quickly that outright cancelation seemed inevitable. That feeling intensified as the second game on Wednesday got underway and word got out that the Utah Jazz’s Rudy Gobert had tested positive and the NBA would suspend its season.

No announcement came after the second game. Or overnight. Or the next morning.

Creighton and St. John’s both showed up to the Garden Thursday. Media, pep bands, cheer teams, and family were there as well. I spoke with Jocelyn Stange, the Creighton cheer coach, before the game and she said her team was proceeding as normal. They’d be there to pump up however many Creighton fans were actually in the stands. Her team stretched, huddled, then took their spot on the baseline.

As of around 11 a.m., it appeared to be game on.

Then, as has happened throughout this surreal pandemic, the dominoes began to fall again. The Big Ten announced it had canceled the rest of its tournament. The AAC did the same. The SEC, Big 12, and Pac-12 weren’t far behind, with the mid-major conferences following suit. Even at 11:55, with no announcement made and both teams on the court, it felt like the Big East would call the whole thing off.

The pregame countdown clock hit zero and there was still no announcement. The Creighton pep band played the national anthem. Polite applause from 400 fans followed, but no announcement. The starting lineups were read with the MSG PA announcer’s voice booming throughout the mostly empty arena. The teams broke their huddles and stepped to mid-court. Still no announcement.

With virtually no other sporting events happening nationwide, the Big East tournament quarterfinals began. To the fans’ credit, they did a good job filling the void left by 18,000 empty seats. Creighton and St. John’s fans alternated roars as their teams each went on first-half runs. The pep bands played at timeouts and heckled the players throughout. If it wasn’t for literally everything else happening in America at this time, you could have been tricked into believing this was a normal basketball game, albeit in front of a small crowd.

Then came the first media timeout and a moment of tension after a couple minutes passed and neither team had broken their huddles. The St. John’s pep band finished it song and for an instant, the arena fell into a brief but unsettling silence, like one of those moments in a crowded room when everyone coincidentally stops talking at once. The horn cut through the silence and jerked the fans back to reality as the two teams re-took the court and the next segment began.

A similar process played out at the under-12 timeout, the under-8, and the under-4. With Twitter ablaze as basketball fans wondered what the heck the Big East was doing still playing games, the action played on and the fans seemed blissfully unaware of the heat the league was taking. Or they just didn’t care.

Sometime in those final minutes of the first half, the Big East finally made the decision to cancel the tournament. The announcement came shortly after halftime began with St. John’s clinging to a 38-35 lead. It was on FS1 far before it was announced in the arena, but word seemed to spread fast. Murmurs began throughout the St. John’s pep band’s section and a moment later fans who had been sitting quietly during the halftime break began to make their way to the exits.

With a couple minutes left before the second half was supposed to start, the fans finally got official word. Quarterfinal Thursday was over one-eighth of the way through and most fans weren’t even around to enjoy that.

The second-best week in college basketball, behind only the beginning of the NCAA tournament, came to an end. March Madness was officially canceled later Thursday.

This crisis will pass eventually, and hopefully without a death toll that grows any bigger. Sports will return, as insignificant as they seem right now. But we were robbed of a truly magical time here at Madison Square Garden. Don’t get me wrong, this was the right call. Anyone with common sense would agree people should not congregate en masse during a global pandemic. It still stings. I still want to go watch college basketball. I still want my quarterfinal Thursday back, even though I know better.

Next year’s figures to be sweeter anyway, with a resurgent UConn program returning to the conference. The Huskies bring a ton of fans and will add even more electricity to the greatest basketball venue on Earth. It’ll be torturous waiting for it. We just have to accept that as reality.

[junker-town]

The Big East tournament quarterfinals lasted for one eerie, pointless half

Noah K. Murray-USA TODAY Sports

Inside the nearly empty Madison Square Garden on Thursday

NEW YORK — For college basketball fans in New York, Big East tournament Thursday is more than the quarterfinal day. It’s a ritual started 40 years ago and perfected slowly over time.

It starts that morning with a call into work. You can’t make it in today. Came down with something overnight…Carlesimonia if you’re a Seton Hall fan, or maybe Hoyafluenza.

The first game starts at noon. You go watch the 1 seed coast to victory as the arena slowly fills and your early afternoon beer slowly empties. The 4-5 game is next and it’s a little more competitive. That ends around 4:30 and it’s time for a quick bite at one of the dozens of bars in Manhattan’s West 30s. You’re back in the building well before 7 for the nightcap: the 2 vs. 7 game and the 3 vs. 6. The event ends around midnight, and by that point you’ve watched eight power conference teams battle it out in an arena that just feels like it was made for college basketball.

It’s one of the great days on the New York sports calendar.

In 2020, with the Coronavirus spreading rapidly throughout the country, the sacred ritual came to an eerie halt when the Big East canceled its tournament at halftime of the first quarterfinal game.

It became clear early on Wednesday that this could happen and the possibility increased during the first-round doubleheader when the league announced it would play the quarterfinals in front of an audience limited to 200 immediate family members of players and staff from each team.

Yeah, fictional cases of Carlesimonia ended real fast in favor of something far more real.

Oddly, it never seemed like the nearly empty arena games were going to happen, even as the announcement was made on Wednesday. The situation had escalated so quickly that outright cancelation seemed inevitable. That feeling intensified as the second game on Wednesday got underway and word got out that Rudy Gobert had tested positive and the NBA would suspend its season.

No announcement came after the second game. Or overnight. Or the next morning.

Creighton and St. John’s both showed up to the Garden on Thursday. Media, pep bands, cheer teams, and family were there as well. I spoke with Jocelyn Stange, the Creighton cheer coach, before the game and she said her team was proceeding as normal. They’d be there to pump up however many Creighton fans were actually in the stands. Her team stretched, huddled, then took their spot on the baseline.

As of around 11 a.m., it appeared to be game on.

Then, as has happened throughout this surreal pandemic, the dominoes began to fall again. The Big Ten announced it had canceled the rest of its tournament. The AAC did the same. The SEC, Big 12, and Pac-12 weren’t far behind, with the mid-major conferences following suit. Even at 11:55, with no announcement made and both teams on the court, it felt like the Big East would call the whole thing off.

The pregame countdown clock hit 0 and there was still no announcement. The Creighton pep band played the national anthem. Polite applause from 400 fans followed, but no announcement. The starting lineups were read with the MSG PA announcer’s voice booming throughout the mostly empty arena. The teams broke their huddles and stepped to mid-court. Still no announcement.

With virtually no other sporting events happening nationwide, the Big East tournament quarterfinals began. To the fans’ credit, they did a good job filling the void left by 18,000 empty seats. Creighton and St. John’s fans alternated roars as their teams each went on first-half runs. The pep bands played at timeouts and heckled the players throughout. If it wasn’t for literally everything else happening in America at this time, you could have been tricked into believing this was a normal basketball game, albeit in front of a small crowd.

Then came the first media timeout and a moment of tension after a couple minutes passed and neither team had broken their huddles. The St. John’s pep band finished it song and for an instant, the arena fell into a brief but unsettling silence, like one of those moments in a crowded room when everyone coincidentally stops talking at once. The horn cut through the silence and jerked the fans back to reality as the two teams re-took the court and the next segment began.

A similar process played out at the under-12 timeout, the under-8, and the under-4. With Twitter ablaze as basketball fans wondered what the heck the Big East was doing still playing games, the action played on and the fans seemed blissfully unaware of the heat the league was taking. Or they just didn’t care.

Sometime in those final minutes of the first half, the Big East finally made the decision to cancel the tournament. The announcement came shortly after halftime began with St. John’s clinging to a 38-35 lead. It was on FS1 far before it was announced in the arena, but word seemed to spread fast. Murmurs began throughout the St. John’s pep band’s section and a moment later fans who had been sitting quietly during the halftime break began to make their way to the exits.

With a couple minutes left before the second half was supposed to start, the fans finally got official word. Quarterfinal Thursday was over one eighth of the way through and most fans weren’t even around to enjoy that.

The second-best week in college basketball, behind only the beginning of the NCAA Tournament, came to an end. March Madness was officially canceled later Thursday.

This crisis will pass eventually, and hopefully without a death toll that grows any bigger. Sports will return, as insignificant as they seem right now. But we were robbed of a truly magical time here at Madison Square Garden. Don’t get me wrong, this was the right call. Anyone with common sense would agree that people should not congregate en masse during a global pandemic. It still stings. I still want to go watch college basketball. I still want my quarterfinal Thursday back, even though I know better.

Next year’s figures to be sweeter anyway, with a resurgent UConn program returning to the conference. The Huskies bring a ton of fans and will add even more electricity to the greatest basketball venue on Earth. It’ll be torturous waiting for it. We just have to accept that as reality.