I remember my first taste of Georgetown basketball. Four years ago, when I was a freshman, Georgetown opened the season in late November against Temple at what was then MCI Center. My friend and I discussed whether we should attend the game. We hadn’t come to Georgetown because of the basketball, but we elected to go anyway.

We waltzed into the gym 20 minutes before tip-off and landed seats five rows from the court. There was only a single section allotted for students, but there was no crowd, and there was no excitement. Brandon Bowman jacked up awkward, contested shots for 40 minutes, and the Hoyas lost by 18.

“So this is Georgetown basketball,” I remember thinking.

Three weeks later Georgetown played then-No. 1 Illinois at MCI. Illinois fans filled our arena to capacity and gave everyone a lesson in active crowd participation. Shortly before halftime, Georgetown was surprisingly leading by a couple of points in a game that the Hoyas would go on to lose by 15. My friend pulled out her cell phone and took a picture of the scoreboard.

“So we can remember that we were actually winning against the No. 1 team in the country,” she stated matter-of-factly.

onths later, after our season had already ended in the NIT, I remember sitting in my dorm room and watching North Carolina beat that same Illinois team to win the National Championship. As they cut down the nets I clicked off the tiny television so that I could finish my Macroeconomics problem set. A floormate mentioned a friend of his who was a Tar Heel freshman.

“Those kids,” he said, “must be having a hell of a time right now. We are never going to know what that feels like.”

And now four years later we’re in the midst of our first undefeated season at home since the 1995-1996 heyday of Allen Iverson. Our team is coming off a Final Four appearance and has been ranked as high as No. 4 in the land. Students routinely leave for games two hours early because they worry about landing a seat anywhere in either of our two lower-level student sections. Maybe we don’t yet know what it feels like to win the title, but we wrote the book on how to storm the White House.

Before it gets too hectic and the urgency of each Big East and NCAA Tournament game descends upon us, I think we’d be well served to cherish this home court environment that we’ve built.

Because there’s just two games left. That means only two more times to stand in the student section and mercilessly make fun of the opposing head coach. Only twice more that Jack the Bulldog can parade around and attract an entourage that rivals 50 Cent’s. Just a couple more opportunities to look at the Hoya Blue kids, the cheerleaders and the Pep Band, and to realize that all of their respective group leaders are Hoyas I’ve spent the past four years growing up alongside.

I may not have come to Georgetown for the basketball, but the games have become a symbol of belonging here on this Hilltop that I’m going to miss dearly after I graduate.

Not too long ago was Senior Parents’ Weekend, and my mom and dad dutifully made the trek down from New York for the experience. Friday night we went out to a nice dinner, and our Saturday at the Senior Auction was a pretty good time, too. They stuck around on Sunday, but it was really Monday for which I was anxiously waiting. Georgetown was scheduled to play Villanova, and I was excited that my parents would finally be able to attend a home game.

For a couple of weeks I’d been surreptitiously hinting that they should try and take Monday and Tuesday off from work so that they could see what it’s like when the Hoyas play at Verizon. Georgetown Basketball had turned out to be such an important part of my four years here that I thought it would be fitting for them to experience a taste of it on their own.

I wanted them to see how cool it is that so many students are willing to drop whatever they’re doing, forget about any lingering homework, and come cheer on the basketball team. I thought it would be fun for them to watch us turn our backs on the opposing team and to chant “Roy, Roy, Roy” in unison. It’s an experience that just doesn’t translate through the television.

When it was all over, after Jonathan Wallace hit those clutch free throws to seal the deal and send Villanova home with a loss, I met up with them in the aisle of section 120. Eagerly, I asked if they’d had a good time.

“It was fantastic,” my mom said. “I’d come to every game if I could.”

y sentiments exactly.

So now there’s just two more left.

Turns out I’m here for the basketball after all.

Chris Seneca is a senior in the School of Foreign Service. He can be reached at senecathehoya.com.

“