Why I ... And Las Vegas Love UNLV Runnin' Rebel Basketball

Hello and welcome to the second installment of "Why I..." This is officially going to be a recurring column within my blog where I explain or defend something or some action. Last time, I did one on why I boycotted the bowl season. (Which looks like it may have succeeded!)

Today, I'm talking about a team that, honestly, reaches me on a different level than any other.

Most people know me as a Boston Celtics fan, a New York Jets fan, a Manchester City FC fan or a Chicago White Sox fan. But for as long as I can remember, college basketball has been the sport I love the most.

And in college basketball, though multiple teams (North Carolina, Gonzaga, etc.) have my rooting interests, no team means more to me - or has my allegiance on a deeper lever - than the UNLV Runnin' Rebels.

I was only a baby (just over the 5-month mark to be exact) when UNLV began its legendary run through the 1990 NCAA Tournament. Jerry Tarkanian had left the school months before the earliest sports memory I have (the 1992 Dream Team).

In spite of that, however, I still was raised with the glory days of the Runnin' Rebels. I had trading cards of the 1990-91 team that demolished every regular season opponent they faced. I had a video called "The Tarkanian Years," which chronicled his two decades of service to this team, as well as the creation of the Thomas & Mack Center.

Though that VHS tape was lost when we moved houses in 2001 (if anyone has a copy I'll buy it from you!), I watched it every night. To this day I still remember both legendary Rebel songs that played in full during that video:

"Runnin' Rebel Fever" by George Dare

And "Walk Like a Tarkanian," a lyrical song parody of "Walk Like an Egyptian."

To this day, if there's a towel in my area when watching a Rebel game, I will chew and suck the juice out of it.

My first sporting event ever was a Runnin' Rebel game. I still have a clear picture in my head of the dark blue lights that led me up through the tunnel, up the stairs and to the second deck of the T&M. I still get goosebumps thinking about the lights going out, the red "Runnin' Rebels" carpet being rolled out, and the spotlight focusing in on each starter as they walked from their entrance tunnel to center court.

This team was my childhood for sure, but what ties me to them isn't just those memories. It's what this team meant to the community around me that always astounds me.

My uncle still has a recording of the 1990 National Championship game in his house, which I've watched through multiple times myself. My mom (a 1987 alumna) and dad were in Vegas throughout Tark's last decade here and still tell me how crazy the town was about that squad.

In elementary school, one P.E. and Field Day event everyone loved (and usually finished with) was Rebel Ball. In middle school, we filled out tournament brackets. Even in high school, during March Madness, my Spanish class formed teams and reviewed with a basketball hoop, while my History class watched the Rebels' tournament game in class.

It's amazing to see how many people are affected by this team, but there is a cultural reason for it.

Las Vegas is a town where very little of the community is represented by something that belongs to the citizens. The Strip is filled with hotels that try to bring the greatness of other towns (New York New York, Paris, Venetian, etc.) here. So little of the culture is Las Vegans' own.

The state itself ranks near the bottom of every category of measurable success, and near the top of nearly every category of failure.

Even UNLV, the lone university in town, is a commuter campus. The commuter mindset of the town makes it difficult for anyone at the school to want to build a community.

There are no professional teams to bring people in, and UNLV's football squad has never brought the city to a frenzy (mostly because they're waging a war on watchable football).

The town that became famous for hosting other's parties finally had their own with this basketball team. They alone made citizens feel like they were part of a community.

Kentucky fans have baseball and horse racing. Indiana fans have their local sports scene and the Colts. North Carolina has multiple schools and pro squads. Even Gonzaga has nearby Seattle's many technological achievements, Starbucks and the Mariners.

When I sat (or rather, stood) in the student section during the San Diego State game on Saturday, a person in the row behind me said of one of the players, "He's in my class!"

That's when I knew what this team meant to the community. It's that ability to look at something and say that this community created it.

Standing in a frenzied crowd not seen in years, it was clear that it was that mindset that drove everyone in that building to cheer even harder for that squad.

It's for that reason why Tarkanian still has a semi-deity status in this town even though he's been out of coaching since the turn of the century. It's why the city's main newspaper, the Review Journal, will give the team most of the front page, if not all of it, whenever it accomplishes something of note.

I went to UNLV mostly for affordability, scholarships and the Honors College. But when I look back at my time here, individual classes won't be my main memory. Clubs and drama won't be. Even my two campus jobs, one of which I basically lived in the office for more than two years, won't be my focus.

Rather, my greatest memories will be hanging out with my classmates, friends and brother from the student section. Whether it be the Shark Tank, Kruger's Korner or The Rebellion, I never felt more like I was part of an extended city community than when thousands of us partied in those seats.

Those of you from out of town won't understand this. You'll wonder why we don't make community out of art, academia or even the other college/minor league sports teams here.

All I can say is: It's a birthright. If you have to ask, you won't get it. But talk to people here about UNLV basketball and sit in the T&M on a sell-out night, and maybe you'll get a shade of what I'm talking about here.