8:58 a.m. Back inside the M.A.C.C., Bill Wynes, a free-lance lighting technician for Sports Illustrated, works to
string four strobe lights to the ceiling, which will benefit the Sports Illustrated photographer who will be taking photos
at the game. In the background, the scoreboard suddenly comes to life as it flashes the score: Kent 90, Akron 50. The
scoreboard must be psychic.
9:15 a.m. The concession workers arrive and immediately begin preparing the cornerstones of any sports fan's
diet: nachos, pretzels, hot dogs, sauerkraut and pizza. Senior student manager Jeff Culbreth says the vendors will
have "way too much food" on hand. But he estimates there will be 32 Papa John's pizzas available in addition to 30
cases of hot dogs and eight to 10 cases of pretzels, just to name a few.
Culbreth says for this game all of the concession stands will be open, and two additional stands will be set up on
the second floor. The main stand, where Culbreth works, usually accommodates four lines of people. But for the
Akron game, they will try to service 12.
"Overall it usually isn't bad," Culbreth says. "But halftime is going to be just ridiculous."
9:35 a.m. Three-quarters of the way up in the second-level seating, Don Clements and Jim Orack are putting
together the television cameras for the game. Clements says most of the maintenance workers at the game are
free-lancers.
"I work for the 'Anything for a Buck Corporation,"' Clements says.
After adjusting one of the camera's legs to the dark blue platform, Clements takes a couple moments to watch the
Kent State basketball team's practice.
"Hey, do you know what their secret play is?" he asks. "Neither do I, and we aren't gonna find out because they
always kick us out and lock the doors right before their real practice begins. I must've worked a couple thousand
basketball games, and I've never seen a team practice its secret play."
9:50 a.m. On the floor, Kent State coach Gary Waters puts his team through a variety of ball-handling and layup
drills. Seven-foot redshirt John Edwards stands in the paint as 6-foot-9-inch forward Mike Perry is driving toward the
bucket. As he goes up for the shot, Edwards sticks out a right hand, which seems as though it will never stop
extending, until he effortlessly swats the shot away from the rim.
"Yo, you gonna let him do that?" one player yells at Perry. With renewed spirit, Perry retrieves the basketball and
again charges Edwards. This time, Perry slides to the right of his defender, and the ball finds its target rather than the
middle of Edwards' palm.
In the background, players all over the court hustle, scream and fly after one another. This practice seems to have
life or death consequences attached to it.
11:15 a.m. Perry stands alone at the basket in the empty gym. Dribble through the legs. Layup off the glass. Turn
and sink the jump shot. He passes the ball to someone at the other end of the court and makes his exit. The gym is
silent except for the sound of the basketballs hitting off the floor.
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