Columnist Ron Kantowski: Old days: Fewer wins, less hassle

Thursday, Aug. 29, 2002 | 8:59 a.m.

Ron Kantowski's insider notes column appears Tuesday and his Page One column appears Thursday. He can be reached at ron@lasvegassun.com or (702) 259-4088.

Don't get me wrong: The massive press box tower, bright scoreboard, real grass, exciting players, competitive team and butts in the seats -- and everything else John Robinson has wrought in two-plus years at UNLV -- are steps in the right direction.

On most Saturday afternoons (or Saturday nights or late Friday afternoons or Thursday nights or whenever ESPN tells the Rebels it is time to play), if you squint just right and the wind's not blowing too much sand into the stands from the parking lots, the big-time college football atmosphere is almost palpable at Sam Boyd Stadium these days.

Here's to you, Mr. Robinson. Joltin' Jim Strong has left and gone away. Yay, yay yay.

But I must confess. The sentimentalist in me -- or maybe it's the crotchety old man in me, threatening to burst through my chest cavity like that monster in "Alien I" -- longs for the old and futile days, when Wayne Nunnely and Strong and Jeff Horton were coach, and you didn't have to leave the house two hours prior to kickoff to make sure you wouldn't miss it.

Who knew that just a couple of years later that it would behoove Rebels fans to visit Tickets.com prior to setting out for Boyd Stadium? I remember going to the "Will Call" window to pick up tickets to find it boarded up, like an old Texaco station on the Interstate. Will Call? Won't Call was more like it.

Speaking of old Texaco stations, be glad you never had to wait in line to use the one restroom in the sardine can that served as the old press box. By the time it was your turn to use the facilities, that's what they smelled like.

That's why it was better to sit in the stands. Of course, prior to Robinson's reign, sitting in the stands was optional. You could stretch out any which way you pleased. I remember one Indian summer afternoon against New Mexico State where I took a nap at the 35-yard line in the east stands.

I didn't wake up until Derek Stott overthrew his intended receiver on an out pattern by 15 yards, and the football clanged around the empty bleachers like a pinball.

The turnstiles didn't exactly sing in those days. They sounded like Rosanne Barr with a sore throat.

This Saturday, the Rebels and Wisconsin most likely will play before a record crowd at the House That Robinson Rebuilt. But if I see a scalper working the soccer field parking lots, I'm gonna tell Jim Strong that I've already got tickets.