When I picked up my �working media� pass before Saturday night�s Predators game, I couldn�t help but chuckle. This isn�t work, I thought to myself. I was about to spend two and a half hours in Section 303 of the Gaylord Entertainment Center, with the self-proclaimed loudest, proudest and most entertaining fans of the universe. I was going to yell my brains out, taunt the other team, scream �you suck� � I was going to submerge myself into everything Cell Block 303 is known for. The Backdrop I spent hours preparing myself for that night. About a week prior, I contacted Mark Hollingsworth, the ringleader of the Rafter Rats. The Duke of Rebuke, as Hollingsworth is known, is one of the original season-ticket holders for 303. He and four of his buddies had always been hockey fans, stretching back to the days of the Nashville Knights. When Nashville was selected as an NHL expansion city, the Duke and his buddies rushed to buy tickets. Moments before the first puck dropped in what was then known as the Nashville Arena, the Duke stood up and introduced himself and his buddies to the other members of the section. �We�re gonna be idiots,� explained the Duke. �We�re gonna scream and holler and yell rude things.� When a few �like-minded idiots� joined in the Duke and his buddies� crazy antics, Section 303 was born. Three seasons later, Section 303 is still going strong. The infectious chant of �Goa-lie, Goa-lie, Goa-lie, you suck!� and other 303isms spread like wildfire through the arena. A Web site � www.section303.com � was born. Even the Predators� organization took notice, paying homage to the boisterous bunch by hoisting a huge Cell Block 303 banner above the section. Felt like they were being left out, other season-ticket holders filled out applications to make the switch to 303. �I�ve sat in other sections before,� said Steven Holland, a former 333 season-ticket holder before a 1999 switch to 303. �It�s totally different over here. I felt like I was in church over there.� Not exactly a choir boy myself, I was thrilled when the Duke offered me a seat next to him and amongst the other 303 looney tunes for Saturday�s game against the Columbus Blue Jackets. Armed with a notepad, my Predators� shirt and an open mind, I prepared myself for an evening full of fun. The Experience Let�s get this out of the way � my intentions were harmless. I was going to do a story about the history of 303, complete with quotes from various section members, Preds� management and players, with the added twist of actually braving the elements and sitting in the eye of the storm. I was going to gain true perspective. But as any self-respecting journalist (stop snickering) will tell you, we write what we see. I did not enjoy my experience in 303. Cell blocks around the world should riot in protest of their name and riotous reputation being lent to a section that earned more yawns than cheers from this sportswriter. I tried to get into the flow of things. I took my seat next to the Duke and yelled during the first �Let�s go Predators� chant. But you can�t force goose bumps. I watched the first time the �Hit somebody, hit anybody, hit everybody� chant was started, trying to learn the intricacies. When I participated on the second go-round, I confirmed my suspicion � it is as dull to participate as it is to listen. And for a section that professes an undying love to the Predators, win or lose, they sure didn�t show any sympathy toward Bill Houlder when he failed to keep the puck in the zone during a Predator power play. I thought the �you suck� chant was only for opposing goalies. I tried to push aside the lingering feelings that the section was a farce, but they kept coming back. Anytime the Duke tried to get a chant started, a handful of 303ites followed suit, but only for a moment or two. They seemed to be more interested in complaining about the Preds than cheering them on. My heart goes out to the Duke. He lived up to his billing. He was relentless in attempting to get chants started, but was routinely ignored. His signs (he brings an artist�s bag full of poster boards for seemingly every occasion) were funny, but I didn�t come to 303 to read. I was there to feel the electricity of the Predators� version of Cleveland�s Dawg Pound or Duke�s Cameron Crazies. I wanted to meet my friends at a bar after the game and tell them unbelievable stories about how utterly insane it is to sit in 303. I tried to get into it, but the intensity wasn�t there. You can�t fake a thrill, and Cell Block 303 proved that. Section 303 is overrated. The Epilogue From the moment I first learned about 303, I had no reason not to believe the hype. Their Web site is chock full of quotes from various members of the media, NHL players and other people singing the praises of what a good job they do. Their antics are debated on numerous local radio call-in shows and Internet message boards. You either love �em or you hate �em. I considered myself in the former before last Saturday�s game. I love the irreverent attitude they portray. I think its great the goalie chants have visibly gotten to a couple of the opposing goaltenders. The idea that a couple hundred people sitting two stories above the ice can have an effect on a game is awesome. But the problem is it�s just that � an idea. Section 303 believes its own hype. Anybody you ask in the Predators� organization is going to tell you Nashville fans are the best in the league, and 303 is a big reason why. They get patted on the back at every turn. As a neutral observer, and someone who has spent time in both �regular� sections and in 303, I�m here to tell you there is no difference. If anything, it�s better to sit elsewhere in the arena, lest you enjoy cringing every time the Duke�s chanting efforts go unabated. Maybe it was a one-time thing. Is it possible I endured the one game out of 100 that 303 has an off night? Maybe. The only way to be sure is to make a return trip to the Cell Block. But if I do, I�ll make sure to bring my pillow.

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