MADISON, WIS. ? Tim Bateman had the seat to beat Sunday, up in the second deck, Section 206.
By Allen Fieldhouse standards, it was among the best at Kohl Center.
“Up here, we all stand,” said Bateman, a Lawrence graduate student at KU who was surrounded by loud, fist-pumping Jayhawks fans. “The security guy warned us to sit down. We didn’t. They said they’d call the cops. We didn’t sit. It feels like home.”
The same desire to cheer the Jayhawks left me with one of the less fan-friendly seats in the arena. It sounds like a golden place directly behind KU’s bench but it actually had limitations.
I could see well during time-outs or when somebody was shooting a free throw.
But when action got furious, the tallest people in the building KU’s players stood up. As they should.
I realized when they bolted, something good was happening. If they jumped up and down, the news was spectacular.
As the clock wound down on the Oregon Ducks, Bateman waved the wheat with his traveling buddy, Ryan Werner of Lawrence.
“This is a great atmosphere,” Bateman said. “I’d never been to the NCAA Tournament before. It’s great to see it all live, instead of on TV.”
Tim Carpenter
MADISON, WIS. ? Tim Bateman had the seat to beat Sunday, up in the second deck, Section 206.
By Allen Fieldhouse standards, it was among the best at Kohl Center.
“Up here, we all stand,” said Bateman, a Lawrence graduate student at KU who was surrounded by loud, fist-pumping Jayhawks fans. “The security guy warned us to sit down. We didn’t. They said they’d call the cops. We didn’t sit. It feels like home.”
The same desire to cheer the Jayhawks left me with one of the less fan-friendly seats in the arena. It sounds like a golden place directly behind KU’s bench but it actually had limitations.
I could see well during time-outs or when somebody was shooting a free throw.
But when action got furious, the tallest people in the building KU’s players stood up. As they should.
I realized when they bolted, something good was happening. If they jumped up and down, the news was spectacular.
As the clock wound down on the Oregon Ducks, Bateman waved the wheat with his traveling buddy, Ryan Werner of Lawrence.
“This is a great atmosphere,” Bateman said. “I’d never been to the NCAA Tournament before. It’s great to see it all live, instead of on TV.”
Tim Carpenter
MADISON, WIS. ? Tim Bateman had the seat to beat Sunday, up in the second deck, Section 206.
By Allen Fieldhouse standards, it was among the best at Kohl Center.
“Up here, we all stand,” said Bateman, a Lawrence graduate student at KU who was surrounded by loud, fist-pumping Jayhawks fans. “The security guy warned us to sit down. We didn’t. They said they’d call the cops. We didn’t sit. It feels like home.”
The same desire to cheer the Jayhawks left me with one of the less fan-friendly seats in the arena. It sounds like a golden place directly behind KU’s bench but it actually had limitations.
I could see well during time-outs or when somebody was shooting a free throw.
But when action got furious, the tallest people in the building KU’s players stood up. As they should.
I realized when they bolted, something good was happening. If they jumped up and down, the news was spectacular.
As the clock wound down on the Oregon Ducks, Bateman waved the wheat with his traveling buddy, Ryan Werner of Lawrence.
“This is a great atmosphere,” Bateman said. “I’d never been to the NCAA Tournament before. It’s great to see it all live, instead of on TV.”
Tim Carpenter
MADISON, WIS. ? Tim Bateman had the seat to beat Sunday, up in the second deck, Section 206.
By Allen Fieldhouse standards, it was among the best at Kohl Center.
“Up here, we all stand,” said Bateman, a Lawrence graduate student at KU who was surrounded by loud, fist-pumping Jayhawks fans. “The security guy warned us to sit down. We didn’t. They said they’d call the cops. We didn’t sit. It feels like home.”
The same desire to cheer the Jayhawks left me with one of the less fan-friendly seats in the arena. It sounds like a golden place directly behind KU’s bench but it actually had limitations.
I could see well during time-outs or when somebody was shooting a free throw.
But when action got furious, the tallest people in the building KU’s players stood up. As they should.
I realized when they bolted, something good was happening. If they jumped up and down, the news was spectacular.
As the clock wound down on the Oregon Ducks, Bateman waved the wheat with his traveling buddy, Ryan Werner of Lawrence.
“This is a great atmosphere,” Bateman said. “I’d never been to the NCAA Tournament before. It’s great to see it all live, instead of on TV.”
Tim Carpenter
MADISON, WIS. ? Frank Genna’s tavern was the ultimate in neighborhood bars.
He deployed a tough-love sense of humor with regulars and just the right amount of lousy service for outsiders to make the joint endearing.
The place opened 38 years ago, the same year his daughter, Lori, was born in Madison. Lori recalls her father coming home at night during the protest-ravaged 1960s with tear gas burning his eyes.
He was unfazed.
Lori grew up and graduated from Kansas University with a fine arts degree in 1997. She still lives in Lawrence and works for Hallmark Cards in Kansas City, Mo.
She’s back in Madison for the Jayhawks’ NCAA Tournament games. She stays in the home of her sister, Kristi, who has operated Genna’s since Frank’s health began to deteriorate in the 1980s. He died in 1987.
Lori said Genna’s was Madison’s longest continuously operated bar in the Capitol area. The name is the same, but the atmosphere has evolved.
“It’s had two life cycles,” she said.
While Frank was content running a local pub, Kristi thought bigger. She moved Genna’s to an historic two-story, triangular-shaped building on Main Street across from the Wisconsin statehouse.
There’s still an old-tavern feel, with a long bar and high ceilings. But there’s also a great jukebox, poetry readings and, on Saturdays, Lawrence Welk Night.
“They show the TV program, turn on a bubble machine and drink martinis,” Lori said.
Tim Carpenter
MADISON, WIS. ? Frank Genna’s tavern was the ultimate in neighborhood bars.
He deployed a tough-love sense of humor with regulars and just the right amount of lousy service for outsiders to make the joint endearing.
The place opened 38 years ago, the same year his daughter, Lori, was born in Madison. Lori recalls her father coming home at night during the protest-ravaged 1960s with tear gas burning his eyes.
He was unfazed.
Lori grew up and graduated from Kansas University with a fine arts degree in 1997. She still lives in Lawrence and works for Hallmark Cards in Kansas City, Mo.
She’s back in Madison for the Jayhawks’ NCAA Tournament games. She stays in the home of her sister, Kristi, who has operated Genna’s since Frank’s health began to deteriorate in the 1980s. He died in 1987.
Lori said Genna’s was Madison’s longest continuously operated bar in the Capitol area. The name is the same, but the atmosphere has evolved.
“It’s had two life cycles,” she said.
While Frank was content running a local pub, Kristi thought bigger. She moved Genna’s to an historic two-story, triangular-shaped building on Main Street across from the Wisconsin statehouse.
There’s still an old-tavern feel, with a long bar and high ceilings. But there’s also a great jukebox, poetry readings and, on Saturdays, Lawrence Welk Night.
“They show the TV program, turn on a bubble machine and drink martinis,” Lori said.
Tim Carpenter
MADISON, WIS. ? Frank Genna’s tavern was the ultimate in neighborhood bars.
He deployed a tough-love sense of humor with regulars and just the right amount of lousy service for outsiders to make the joint endearing.
The place opened 38 years ago, the same year his daughter, Lori, was born in Madison. Lori recalls her father coming home at night during the protest-ravaged 1960s with tear gas burning his eyes.
He was unfazed.
Lori grew up and graduated from Kansas University with a fine arts degree in 1997. She still lives in Lawrence and works for Hallmark Cards in Kansas City, Mo.
She’s back in Madison for the Jayhawks’ NCAA Tournament games. She stays in the home of her sister, Kristi, who has operated Genna’s since Frank’s health began to deteriorate in the 1980s. He died in 1987.
Lori said Genna’s was Madison’s longest continuously operated bar in the Capitol area. The name is the same, but the atmosphere has evolved.
“It’s had two life cycles,” she said.
While Frank was content running a local pub, Kristi thought bigger. She moved Genna’s to an historic two-story, triangular-shaped building on Main Street across from the Wisconsin statehouse.
There’s still an old-tavern feel, with a long bar and high ceilings. But there’s also a great jukebox, poetry readings and, on Saturdays, Lawrence Welk Night.
“They show the TV program, turn on a bubble machine and drink martinis,” Lori said.
Tim Carpenter
MADISON, WIS. ? Frank Genna’s tavern was the ultimate in neighborhood bars.
He deployed a tough-love sense of humor with regulars and just the right amount of lousy service for outsiders to make the joint endearing.
The place opened 38 years ago, the same year his daughter, Lori, was born in Madison. Lori recalls her father coming home at night during the protest-ravaged 1960s with tear gas burning his eyes.
He was unfazed.
Lori grew up and graduated from Kansas University with a fine arts degree in 1997. She still lives in Lawrence and works for Hallmark Cards in Kansas City, Mo.
She’s back in Madison for the Jayhawks’ NCAA Tournament games. She stays in the home of her sister, Kristi, who has operated Genna’s since Frank’s health began to deteriorate in the 1980s. He died in 1987.
Lori said Genna’s was Madison’s longest continuously operated bar in the Capitol area. The name is the same, but the atmosphere has evolved.
“It’s had two life cycles,” she said.
While Frank was content running a local pub, Kristi thought bigger. She moved Genna’s to an historic two-story, triangular-shaped building on Main Street across from the Wisconsin statehouse.
There’s still an old-tavern feel, with a long bar and high ceilings. But there’s also a great jukebox, poetry readings and, on Saturdays, Lawrence Welk Night.
“They show the TV program, turn on a bubble machine and drink martinis,” Lori said.
Tim Carpenter
