Wednesday, March 26, 1997 | 11:59 a.m.
FOR ABOUT a decade now, pro sports teams and leagues have taken the stance that louder is better. The days of viewing a game and politely or even rabidly cheering for the home team have been supplanted by the belief that the more raucous the crowd and the more deafening the periphery noise, the more entertained the fans.
It's hogwash, of course, but that's the trend and there's probably no turning back. As a result, spectators across the country are bombarded with high-decibel music and appeals for overzealous responses from highly strung public-address announcers.
New lows are commonplace and one was exposed last week in Hackensack, where the president of the New Jersey Nets admitted his team was utilizing fake crowd noise. Somehow, he wasn't embarrassed.
But Nets coach John Calipari was. "I just shook my head," he said of his reaction to the news. "I said, 'Do we need to do this?'"
Needless to say, this intrusion of fraudulent crowd noise grates on the sports purist. The Nets resorted to doing it in an attempt to cover for the fact they're a dull, lousy team that can't inspire their fans to do more than sit on their collective hands.
Their ersatz noise is always positive, always cheering. When the Nets lost in their home arena, The Meadowlands, by 25 points to the Los Angeles Lakers Monday night, taped cheers filled in the gaps and attempted to balance the actual crowd's inclination to boo. Jim Jackson, suffering through a 2-for-14 shooting night, was a particular target, as was the team in general by the end of the game when it lost for the 47th time in 68 outings and was mathematically eliminated from playoff consideration.
The Nets' ploy, devious that it is, sparked this mesmerizing thought: Are Las Vegas sports fans being subjected to similar shenanigans?
The sometimes mischievous Las Vegas Thunder, at home Tuesday night, fit the bill as suitable tests. If any local team would attempt to light a fire under the audibly challenged, it's the Thunder.
The findings are somewhat incomplete, as the production room was skull-and-crossboned off, making a direct inquiry impossible.
Relying on the naked ear, so to speak, brought suspicious moments but no absolutely detectable fake cheers. While at times there seemed to be more hand-clapping noise than hands clapping, at the very worst the Thunder did nothing more than periodically and subtly enhance legitimate crowd reactions during its 6-3 loss to the Manitoba Moose.
If anything, the pregame introductions may have been augmented, yet that seems harmless. Perhaps the Thunder has no need to beef up the crowd noise, its largely young and female audience providing sufficient squeals and screams of its own.
Cynicism aside, the Thunder passed the test. Yet right next door, at Wilson Stadium, where the UNLV baseball team was playing Loyola Marymount, there wasn't even room for skepticism.
However few its number, the crowd there cheered or booed as it pleased -- just like the old days.
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