Reynolds Coliseum, Raleigh, N.C., 1990s, by Kevin Hilgers
From MemoryArchive
Who: Kevin Hilgers What: Reynolds Coliseum When: 1990s Where: Raleigh, N.C.
I didn't even apply to N.C. State and never even considered it. It's for the sciences, and I lean toward the humanities and a life of poorly paying jobs. But that never meant I couldn't root for Wolfpack. When I was 5 and my family moved to the Triangle area of North Carolina, I had to pick a basketball team. The options were Duke, Carolina or State – choose one and stick with it. I was sitting in the car on the way back from soccer practice and people were talking about the Carolina-State game that would happen that evening. Always seeking approval as a little kid, I had to get in on it. NC State's underdog label appealed to me. This was when the basketball program was on the verge of tanking and the late Jim Valvano was under investigation. Carolina and Dean Smith and Duke and Coach K were the pretty boys, but I couldn't pull for a team that was already on top. After all, being a fan is about supporting a team win or lose – that's how you feel the true glory of victory. So it was right then that I swore my allegiance to the North Carolina State Wolfpack, which gave me 10 seasons of suffering, frustration and low expectations, all the while learning what a true sports rivalry is.
But despite the atrociousness of the Wolfpack, my dad and I still went to the games at old Reynolds Coliseum. Talk what you want about Cameron Indoor Stadium – Reynolds was up there with the best old barns in college basketball. It was built in the 1940s to hold agricultural events (it was N.C. State after all) and quickly became the hub of the powerful basketball program of Everett Case, the legendary Wolfpack coach from that era who helped found ACC basketball as we know it.
My memories of Reynolds are from the later years. My dad and I would park in the garage on freezing winter nights and make our way across the brick-covered campus. Then above the pine trees rose the art deco spires of Reynolds Coliseum, adorned with spires and lit up with flood lights in a Gotham City-esque scene.
The lobby had marble floors and two opposite staircases leading up to the concourse, where a trophy case held the game balls and nets of N.C. State basketball lore. It sent a shiver across your body and made your eyes tear up out of reverence. The Pack teams of Jeremy Hyatt, Ishua Benjamin, Todd Fuller and Justin Gainey were far from the Cardiac Pack, David Thompson or Everett Case, but they had chosen to be part of the legacy of one of the greatest college basketball programs in the nation.
Even though the team struggled, the 12,000+ red seats were usually full for ACC games. The students sat basically on the court – the small lower level was a few feet below the permanent seating – surrounding it on the sidelines and baselines. They were all in red and never quiet. The ones I remember the most were in the endzone, and they'd pick up the temporary seats and wave them to distract opponents on the free throw line.
My dad sometimes got partial season tickets, which included some good ACC games, and we sat in the endzone, pretty far from the court. But even so, we got to see Tim Duncan and Wake Forest along with the despised Tar Heels. I'm pretty sure they lost that game, but the place was jumping and I would have been surely been caught in a Hillsborough Street riot had they actually won.
I got to go beyond just the main seating bowl sometimes. My neighbor was the president of the Wolfpack Club, the main booster organization. He gave us baseline tickets in 1999 to see Duke, a great team that I thought couldn't be stopped before it lost to UConn in the national championship. His little son took me around the athletic offices in the bowels of the arena and introduced me to Les Robinson, the transition coach between Valvano and Herb Sendek.
In 1999, the Pack moved to the Entertainment and Sports Arena, now the RBC Center. They put a track in the concourse of old Reynolds and now use it for women's basketball and volleyball. I've been there since. All the tattered red championship banners proclaiming ACC, NCAA and Dixie Classic victories are gone, replaced by new stylized women's banners. It's been empty when I've stopped by, quiet except for the whistles and squeaking shoes. That's hardly emblematic of what it once was, host to NCAA tournaments, ACC tournaments and the greatest college basketball player ever, David Thompson.
The crowds at the RBC Center aren't quite as loud, and the building lacks character. Now Duke's Cameron is the only classic arena in the ACC. A friend at State complains that students don't understand the team's history and what the Wolfpack meant to college basketball. When State lost Reynolds, some of its legacy went too.
We're the Red and White from State
And we know we are the best.
A hand behind our back,
We can take on all the rest.
Go to helll, Carolina.
Devils and Deacs stand in line.
The Red and White from N.C. State.
Go State!
