Columnist Ron Kantowski: A mile high and light years away from Vegas

Friday, March 12, 2004 | 10:36 a.m.

Ron Kantowski is a Las Vegas Sun sports writer. Reach him at ron@lasvegassun.com or (702) 259-4088.

DENVER -- It was midway through the second half of Thursday's first Mountain West Conference men's basketball quarterfinal when the Brigham Young players sauntered into the Pepsi Center in preparation for their game against Wyoming.

Almost immediately, they were welcomed with a resounding chorus of boos.

Ah, now that's the Mountain West tournament as I remember it.

A few minutes later, a Wyoming fan spilled a beer on my loafers, there were three bad calls on three trips down the floor and the entire San Diego State cheering section left in the same taxi. It appeared everything was back to normal.

Indeed, there were times Thursday when it was nearly impossible to tell the difference between the Rocky Mountain High version of the tournament and the way it was in Las Vegas the past four years, and the three years before that, when it was played at the Thomas & Mack Center with the Western Athletic Conference logo on the hardwood.

But to tell the truth, there were other times when the tournament seemed like an imposter, at least compared to the atmosphere it generated when it was played in Las Vegas.

When was the last time, for instance, that New Mexico and UNLV played a tournament game in front of fewer than 3,000 people?

With Denver's chilly weather and rolled up sidewalks being no match for Las Vegas' balmy sunshine and 24-7 nightlife, attendance was down at the quarterfinals. The afternoon session attracted 7,028 while the evening games pulled in 9,781, most of whom were counting sheep -- especially the fans of the Colorado State Rams -- by the time the Rebels and Lobos tipped off at 10 p.m.

On the positive side, none of the players dressed at a locker bearing his nameplate, and that's a tradeoff not to be taken lightly.

The biggest -- only? -- reason the MWC moved the tournament to Denver, of course, is because nobody has the home court advantage at the Pepsi Center. I think the final vote was something like 7 for (the eight MWC coaches minus Charlie Spoonhour) to 13,400 (last year's average attendance at the Mack) against.

Although the Rebels have cut down the nets only once on their home floor, Rick Majerus and the six disciples said it wasn't fair that the UNLV players got to sleep in their own beds while theirs had to rough it at $300-a-night suites at the MGM Grand.

But the coaches were right. And perhaps the only reason that fans of the other teams didn't seem too upset about being bounced from the tournament by the Rebels is because by the time they left Las Vegas, they wouldn't have enough money to pay for an NCAA tournament trip, anyway.

Although it's wide-open spaces are a deterrent, there are those who believe the Mountain West will never be considered a legitimate basketball conference until its fans can support a tournament on a neutral court, and to a large extent, that's what this change in scenery is all about.

It's hard to blame the MWC for aspiring to be the Big Ten, but at the same time, it only has itself to blame for the usually passionate New Mexico fans staying home in droves. If it could have forseen that this day was coming, it should have just played the tournament in some place like Albuquerque from the start, so as not to spoil the league's fans on Las Vegas' many charms.

But as much as it pains me to say it, I think there's potential for the tournament to grow in Denver. For starters, the arena is fantastic, and its location, within walking distance of downtown Denver and its many bars and bistros, lends itself to some postgame merrymaking and/or a Colorado football recruiting party. If only they stayed open past 9 p.m.

That's a slight exaggeration, of course, but the Mountain West seems to be growing testy amid all the needling and criticism, some of which is even being generated by the hometown media. A story written by the Denver Post's Natalie Meisler, who has been covering the tournament from inception, seem to get under the skin of the guys with the purple-and-white logos stitched on their breast pockets. But having read it, it seemed no more harmful than Air Force's transition game.

Besides, what else would they expect from a sports writer whose cats are named Rio and Bellagio?