UH volleyball best seen up close
By Stephen Tsai
Advertiser Staff Writer
Not everyone in the University of Hawai'i men's volleyball community can agree on many things, but one thing most believe is that it is better to see a volleyball match in person than on television.
"It's the difference between turning on your sprinkler in the backyard and running through that as opposed to going to the big water park," UH middle blocker Brian Nordberg said.
"Live is better than TV," said outside hitter Costas Theocharidis, who often tries to watch the delayed telecast of home matches. "I guess it's the emotion thing. You can show your emotions on TV, but when you're in the arena, you can see all of the people in the stands showing their emotions, too. It's really exciting."
Even K5 play-by-play announcer Jim Leahey — who will work tonight's UH match against Cal State Northridge — admitted, "Although television tries to do the best it can, it's still confined to the size of the screen."
The debate — "Do I stay or do I go?" — has been refueled because UH men's volleyball, like Rainbow Wahine volleyball and Rainbow basketball, has experienced declining attendance in recent years yet continues to draw a sizable television audience.
Wilton recalled that in the first four years the Warriors played in the Stan Sheriff Center, even though the matches were televised live, the crowds were large, boisterous and youthful. But he noted that began to change in 1997, when a new ticket policy was implemented, most notably the price of student tickets going from $4 to $7 per match. Students now pay $6 per match.
"When that happened, we immediately lost our youth," said Wilton, noting that a UH-sponsored study showed the Warriors' target audience should be in the 13-to-29 age range.
Wilton said he hopes UH eventually will lower ticket prices for students, as well as create a larger youth section in the lower bowl. "When you've got a defending national champion and you're filling your arena at about 40-percent average, there's plenty of reason to ponder," Wilton said.
Meanwhile, those associated with the program believe there is no substitute for being there, citing such reasons as:
• It's easier to follow the action: The speed of men's volleyball is difficult to capture with the television eye. Because points are scored rapidly, a wide shot of the entire court is needed. But pulling back the shot deprives viewers of the players' expressions. The emotions and close-ups are shown on the replays.
"In terms of the technical side, the view's a lot better at the game than on television," Nordberg said. "Sometimes you can't tell (from a telecast) if the ball's being set forward or backward until three seconds afterwards. (At a match) all of the action is in front of you."
Middle blocker Joshua Stanhiser said: "When you're watching it in person, everything's magnified. When you're watching it on TV, the ball doesn't look like it's moving fast. It's a completely different experience."
• Timeouts aren't boring: Televised matches include a mandatory 90-second timeout at the halfway point of each game. In addition, UH's marketing department requests a 10-minute break between Games 2 and 3 (instead of the usual three-minute intermission between games.) That means a three-game match played at UH will have 15 more minutes of timeouts than a three-game match played on the Mainland.
While television viewers are watching commercials or news updates, fans in the arena— and sometimes visiting players — are scrambling for coupons or T-shirts, or watching hysterical on-court contests.
Earlier this season, Ball State players spent a timeout watching Alan Hackbarth, the self-styled Rubberband Man, perform one of his Gumby-like dances, rather than plot strategy. The players contributed to the standing ovation.
• It's more fun to sing in a chorus: At the suggestion of former UH media specialist Susan Miller nine years ago, Wilton requested that "Hawai'i Pono'i" follow the singing of the national anthem. The fans always participate in singing "Hawai'i Pono'i," even if an instrumental artist, such as Jake Shimabukuro, or a taped version is used.
"That's how much the song means to people here," Leahey said. "When you're in the arena, with other people, you're closer to the team, and vicariously you can celebrate what goes on. You feel you're a part of it — by what you yell, what you cheer, what you sing, the kind of sign that you hold up."
Leahey said his 75-year-old aunt, Marie, sometimes parks on Wilder Avenue to avoid the crush of the exiting crowd. The walk is difficult, "but she just loves to go to volleyball," he said. "She loves the excitement of being in the arena. She loves me, but she would rather be at the match than watch it on television. She tells me by the time she gets home she can watch the replay. But by then it's time to go to bed, so she doesn't see much."
