Malenda Meacham usually watches the Memphis Grizzlies play their home games at the FedEx Forum from her perch in Section 106. She stands up. She applauds. She walks. And of course, it pretends to bang on cartoon bongos every time they flash on the big arena screens.
A part-time judge playing Bongo Lady, one of the most easily recognizable superfans on the team, Meacham, 51, was among those who worked during the NBA’s long layoff this season, her animated bongos were silenced by the coronavirus pandemic. But when the Grizzlies took on the San Antonio Spurs in a seeding match at the NBA reboot at Walt Disney World in Florida, he took the opportunity to make his presence felt again.
Dressed in his custom powder blue jersey, Meacham provided the ticket information – Section 2, Seat 1 – then spent the next two hours sweating for each possession. In the third quarter, he even popped a pair of bongos (signed by former defensive stopper Tony Allen) at the urging of other fans in his section.
“We should all make air bongos!” Meacham said.
The strange thing was that Meacham was nowhere near the arena. In fact, he was on the sofa in his living room in Hernando, Miss., Yelling at his laptop.
As part of its extensive efforts to create an atmosphere for games within its fanless bubble at Disney World, the NBA has invited viewers to participate, virtually. Selected fans who are watching the games from home are live streamed on three video cards that stretch along each baseline and a sideline. There are 10 sections in all, each with 32 seats, which help produce the vague look of the bleachers, along with the all-too-familiar vibe of a video conference, which seems sadly appropriate these days.
“We wanted to create something that would bring our fans to the players,” Sara Zuckert, head of the NBA’s Next Gen Telecast, said in a telephone interview. “It’s also a way to give fans the opportunity to feel like they’re interacting by improving the broadcast for everyone else at home.”
As the coronavirus continues to disrupt sports and the way fans view them, leagues around the world have showcased varying levels of creativity when it comes to livening up their blank backgrounds. Major League Baseball teams have lined up cardboard cutouts of fans. A creative baseball club in South Korea has enlisted stuffed animals to fill its stadium. At the Major League Soccer tournament in Florida, digital video cards are buzzing with activity. And then there are the tarps, so many tarps in so many countries that repair so many vacancies.
In partnership with Microsoft, the NBA has harnessed the magic of 21st century computer technology to broadcast fans like Bongo Lady directly to its three arenas at Disney World. (Imagine reading that sentence before the season starts.)
Most of the virtual seats for each game are assigned to the designated “home” team, with a section typically reserved for the players’ family and friends. The rest largely goes to season ticket holders, sponsors, and fans who apply online, although there have been celebrity cameos. Rapper Lil Wayne, for example, was recently spotted behind the Los Angeles Lakers bench.
Former players such as Paul Pierce, Chris Bosh and Manu Ginobili also made appearances, from the comfort of their home. The games now double as “Where’s Wally?” Research: Was it really Shaquille O’Neal watching the Milwaukee Bucks play the Miami Heat? (Yes it was.)
Peggy Rounds, a Grizzlies account executive, reached out to Meacham to see if she would be a virtual fan for the team’s match against Spurs.
“Who wouldn’t want to try this?” Meacham asked.
Meacham signed a three-page waiver describing various rules. Top of the list: no swearing, as virtual fan audio would be mixed and piped into the arena. Meacham knew in advance that he would struggle with that restriction. As the game progressed, she was grateful for the ability to turn off her microphone. Yes, Bongo Lady has gone offline. He picked his points, though, like when Spurs’ Lonnie Walker threw a wandering sweater. Meacham leaned on his laptop.
“AIRBALLLLL!” she said.
Meacham was looking at a split screen of the rest of the fans in his section, in the form of a video conference and live feed of the game itself. It also aired the game’s regional broadcast on its television, which provided a much broader and more intuitive viewing experience. But there was a delay, which was problematic – her reactions as one of the virtual fans had to come in real time and that required her to pay attention to the pint-sized feed on her laptop.
However, the telecast was vivid and enticing, and Meacham wanted to see what was really going on. She was both invested in the game – which the Grizzlies desperately needed to win to increase their odds of getting a seat in the playoffs – and eager to fulfill her duties as a virtual fan. The tension was real.
“I’m happy to do it for the players,” he said. “If there’s any chance it’ll give them some extra oomph, then it’s worth it.”
Rounds, the Grizzlies account executive, oversaw Meacham’s section as moderator (don’t swear; stay in your seat) while a member of the team’s dance team pumped the energy by starting chants. There was a semi-successful attempt to make the wave. When Ja Morant, the team’s star guard, drained a sweater, several fans mimicked his celebration of the “mask”. Meacham screamed for joy.
“Give me five! Give me five?” Meacham said as he extended his arms. “Nobody gives high five.”
He suffered other minor inconveniences. He was not familiar with the Microsoft program. (“I’m a Zoom girl,” she said.) The virtual fan “sitting” in front of her was too close to her computer camera, which had the effect of partially blocking her. (“I keep trying to get his attention,” said Meacham, who pretended to squeeze the offending fan’s head between thumb and forefinger like an overripe tomato.) he struggled to stay in place as the game slipped away from Memphis.
“I get too excited,” he said. “I’m usually on my feet.”
The fourth quarter was heartbreaking for Meacham, who spent entire estates with his head in his hands. He put away his bongos.
“I think I might need a drink,” he said.
Later, he digested the loss by reflecting on the experience.
“I know the NBA is just trying to do the best it can under the circumstances,” Meacham said. “And I’m honored that the Grizzlies asked me to do that.”
But he was looking forward to the day when he could watch a game the old way, in person.
