Game day traditions

Like many sports fans, Buzz Chance has his game day superstitions.

Any time the Baltimore Express hits the basketball court – and Buzz isn’t at Mobtown Arena to cheer them on live – his den served as his own personal luxury suite.

The well-worn yellow Camelback sofa is situated six feet away from the wall-mounted television, and above the TV is a faded red, black and silver Express pennant.

The square side table to the right of the couch features a big bowl full of chips and a smaller one overflowing with mixed nuts. And ice cold beer is just an arms-length away, thanks to the old, battered blue cooler parked on the floor.

But the good luck charm is his dad, who occupies the threadbare easy chair nestled in the corner of the room.

Watching the Express together is a longstanding tradition, one that began when Buzz was just a child. He still remembers snuggling next to his father in the Buick Riviera and taking their 15-mile journey to Mobtown Arena back in 1972. Although their seats were of the “nosebleed” variety, that was just a minor detail.

For the first time, Buzz was getting to see his beloved basketball team up close and in person.

He could still remember wolfing down two hot dogs and what seemed like a washtub-sized vat of popcorn as the Express made quick work of the Austin Jammers.

Buzz recalled the final score being Baltimore 113, Austin 104, but his dad never could seem to settle on the final.

“That first game was a fun one, wasn’t it?” his father would say when reminiscing about the outing. “I think Baltimore won 115 to 100, or something like that.”

“It was 113-104, dad,” Buzz would reply. “Like they say, you never forget your first time. I remember you buying me that pennant and me having a stomach ache from all that popcorn I ate. And I’ll always remember that score.

“Are you sure? Because I really thought it was 120-112, or something like that.”

The subject would come up several different times over the years, and Buzz’s dad always remembered the final tally differently. Only during the dawn of the internet age did Buzz finally convince his father – sort of.

“Look here,” Buzz said, clacking away at the clunky home computer after the noisy dual-up connection was complete. “This has all the Express information dating back to the first year of the franchise in 1968. See … Express 113, Jammers 104, November 17, 1972.”

His dad ambled over to the “computer machine,” raised his eyeglasses and leaned in.

“Hmmm,” he said. “Well, I guess you’re right. But I coulda sworn it was 118-110 … or something like that.”

More than 50 years later, the Express and Jammers were back at it, this time in Game 4 of the Continental Division playoffs.

Growing up, Buzz always perched on the couch and his dad plopped in his easy chair when the two watched games together. The tradition took a break when Buzz went to college and in the early days of his marriage, but ultimately it continued when his father moved in with Buzz and his wife back in 2020.

His dad was too feeble to actually go to games by then, but he still enjoyed following the Express on television.

And on this night, Buzz guzzled beer, shoveled in snacks, cussed a little and cheered a lot as the Express hung on for a 107-99 road win, evening the series at two games apiece.

Once the game ended, he turned off the TV, walked over to the easy chair and carefully lifted up the urn with his father’s remains. Once placed back in its usual spot on the mantle of the fireplace, Buzz smiled.

“Thanks for helping pull ‘em through against the Jammers again, Pop,” he said. “Still wasn’t as good as that time you took me to my first game, though. Remember? Baltimore 113, Austin 104 … or something like that.”