Custodial worker Cathy Robinson works on clearing trash from the reserved section following the game. (photo by Greg Ruffing)

4:51 p.m. With 2:48 remaining, Whorton comes out of the game. He hugs his coaches and teammates. In the same substitution, Lehrke comes in for the final minutes and is met with a small eruption from the crowd.

When the clock has almost expired, Mitchell, the junior point guard who scored big on Senior Day with 22 points, comes out of the game with the score at 74-53. Mitchell walks with purpose toward the bench, and he is met with a big bear hug from Whorton. Mitchell gets the seniors for at least a little while longer.

Lehrke, the senior who doesn't see much playing time, finds a way to make his time count today. The crowd bears witness as Lehrke finds his way to the hoop, receives the ball and scores on a reverse layup. Whorton and Mitchell both seem to jump higher than they have all year. The score at this time doesn't matter — this day is complete.

4:57 p.m. The scoreboard shows Kent State's victory: 83-54. The fans rush the floor, forming one giant screaming, jumping mass at half court. "Revenge is Soooo Sweet" flashes on the top of the scoreboard.

5:02 p.m. Having been fairly empty a couple hours before the game started, the Kent Shop is now packed.

5:14 p.m. The chairs that served as each team's bench are now being folded up again and placed on their racks. Hall Security is packed up and preparing to leave. The concession tables on the second floor are bare. No lines. No workers.

5:22 p.m. Four workers begin cleaning the upper section of bleachers. Tonight they are lucky — usually they only have two or three workers. But it will still take them close to eight hours to clean up the mess that is scattered throughout the empty gym.

"It's a pretty big mess," says Bill Ross, custodial working supervisor, with a nod and a grin. "Yeah, it's a really big mess." That's an understatement.

5:30 p.m. Activity has ceased in the Kent Shop. The door is closed and locked. Business is done for the day.

5:35 p.m. The Akron players have left their locker room. It is now empty, but their presence is still felt. Coke cups, ice bags, bandages and rubber gloves are strewn across the room. A few of the blue locker doors are ajar.

6:18 p.m. The workers cleaning the bleachers have progressed about half way down the upper sections. Two more people have now joined in helping them. The gym is now silent with the occasional sound of a broom on the bleachers or some piece of garbage being tossed into a barrel. There's no yelling, no cheering.

6:20 p.m. While workers continue to clean the bleachers, the battlefield still awaits them.

The aftermath.

The student section is deserted, but the fans have left their mark. Daily Kent Staters blanket the aisles. The carcasses of blue and yellow balloons have been abandoned on the battlefield. Pieces of confetti are mounded everywhere. Popcorn kernels lie dribbled about in trails that lead nowhere. Candy wrappers and bare sucker sticks, an empty carton of Reiter orange juice and half a hot dog, McDonald's french fries and the mangled remnants of a Whopper are all scattered about like roadkill on the expressway.

Scores of losing raffle tickets ooze unluckiness from where they have been left in the bleachers.

Two lights snap off overhead. Dozens of leaflets are scattered in the bleachers. "3 Tha-REE" they read. Some have had their comers ripped off to be used for confetti. They look moth-eaten and weary. "RAY -N- GEOFF THE CENTER OF R WORLD" proclaims another sign. It is scrawled in big, bouncing letters, written in blue and green marker on a piece of poster board. "GO KENT — Beat Akron" reads a third sign.

They did. <B>