The GBH Roast of Reed Arena

Cameron Indoor. Rupp Arena. Gallagher-Iba. Phog Allen Fieldhouse. Assembly Hall. Hinkle Fieldhouse. REED ARENA.

All iconic college basketball venues. To roast someone publicly is to love them. And today, Reed Arena, we love you so, so much.

Most people don't realize that Reed Arena was originally meant to be the new home of the Math Department. That's why they designed it as an architectural monument to the least common denominator.

Supposedly the video recordings of the meetings to design Reed Arena are accessible to the public. I'm not into torture porn, though.

You know, usually they build a mausoleum and then put the deceased in it, but with Reed Arena they actually built the structure around the dead program.

Oh I see that Blocker is in the audience. You know, Blocker wanted to be a presenter up here on the dais but the producers were worried that people wouldn't know which depressing building we were roasting.

Let's be honest here, folks. "White Out Reed Arena" is redundant.

Reed Arena is the last earnest woman into the Rodan + Fields pyramid scheme.

Really the reason they made Reed Arena look that way is so that when they mothball the entire basketball program it will already be packed neatly in a brown cardboard box.

It ain’t so bad, I reckon. Suppose the aesthetic of Reed Arena is appropriate for graduation. What better way to welcome thousands of bright-eyed, eager students into the working world than a cubicle that seats 13,000?

Consistency and reliability are admirable virtues in life, but it wouldn’t kill Reed Arena to broaden its Subway order from solely “white bread, lettuce, mayonnaise.”

A nuanced hue of khaki was chosen for the exterior, or as the color is known at Sherwin Williams: Middle Management Apathy.

Reed Arena isn't even edgy enough for people who have uttered the words "no, let's go to the good Applebee's".

Chip and Joanna think Reed Arena is a teardown.

Reed Arena thinks ketchup is spicy.

As an entertainment venue Reed Arena has hosted Jeff Foxworthy and Nickelback, which is appropriate because anyone buying those products probably prefers that they arrive in discreet, unmarked packaging.

Life is a long series of experiences, and sometimes you wonder, “what would it be like to sit in a Ford Taurus outside a Dress Barn?”

Shucks, I know Reed turns into a mega church every Tuesday, but if you can show me where in the gospel it says “making the NIT is holy,” I’ll buy you and Clayton Heldenfels an O’Doul’s.

Heard Garth Brooks played Reed Arena once. Finally found a facility with all the charm of Tricia Yearwood.

Sincerely, though - the acoustics of Reed are an impressive asset. Haven’t been this struck by Aggie acoustics since Christian summer camp when my counselor was strumming a guitar around a campfire to impress a Chi Omega. (Hi, RPTS)

Warms my heart at the end of each semester to see graduation. Haven’t seen that many uniformed engineers walk across a platform since Star Wars.

I’m kidding, of course. Never seen Star Wars.

Hat tip to the Reed Rowdies. Y’all should get course credit for watching SEC basketball unironically.

And a salute to you, Aggie Family. When the hoops team is rolling, y’all turn a very large funeral parlor into a raucous, insane band box. We don’t really love you, Reed Arena. We love the people that have come through you. Acie Law. Joe Jones. BCG. Antoine Wright. Dominque Kirk. Josh Carter. Chris Walker. And many others.

In closing—a suggestion to the A&M brass and suits, if we can be so brazen. Next time you stumble into $100 million and change, build a college basketball GYM. A barn. A place with a little grit and gotdamn character. Hell, a place that John Calipari hates playing in. Let the Aggie spirit turn it into the hardest place to play in the SEC. Reed can be for ceremonies and academia. GBH Fieldhouse* can be for parties, bad ass basketball, and BTHO any visitor who dare enter. Gig ‘em.

*working title