Time to Rethink Championship Weekend
There’s something about an empty stadium that feels like a lie.
A lie we tell ourselves about growth. About prestige. About making it. And when it comes to Championship Weekend in college lacrosse, we’re lying loud and proud in front of 70,000 empty seats while a loyal 30,000 freeze their asses off in the lower bowl.
Some say keep it big. That the atmosphere is “electric.” That parking’s free. That ticket prices are “reasonable.” That if it ain’t broke, don’t fix it.
Let me be clear: it’s not broke. It’s disconnected.
We’ve built a beautiful Frankenstein of a weekend—stitched together with D1 men’s dreams, D2 and D3 men’s grit, and the faint echo of a D1 women’s game happening three hours down I-81. Maybe. If the satellite feed holds up.
Meanwhile, the D2 and D3 women are in some bucolic pocket of Virginia. Lovely, sure. Also: remote, under-attended, and invisible. As if “grow the game” only applies to Tewaaraton contenders and teams with bus deals.
This isn't an argument about who deserves more. It’s about what lacrosse could be.
Imagine this: one weekend. One city. One venue. A festival of chaos, caffeine, and crease rolls. D1 women’s semis on Friday. A buffet of games Saturday—D1 men’s semis, D2 and D3 finals for the men. Sunday is ladies' day: all three divisions, wall-to-wall. And Monday? The crown jewel: D1 men’s final, hangovers optional.
It’s not impossible. It’s just inconvenient—for the planners, the sponsors, the suits.
Now, the other side of this Mad Hatter’s tea party says, “Shrink the damn thing.” Ditch the NFL stadiums. Opt for MLS parks with 25,000 seats and actual sellouts. Create intimacy. Create FOMO. Make it feel like the Beatles are back and they're wearing Cascade helmets.
Problem is, we’ve seen that movie. UConn, remember? Smaller doesn’t always mean better. A packed bleacher with no tailgating is just a metal church with no sermon.
What we need isn’t smaller or bigger.
We need together.
We need kids from D3 schools and parents of D1 superstars sharing brats in the same parking lot. We need little girls with goggles on their heads watching both women's and men's games in the same stadium, not wondering why theirs is 200 miles away on some pixelated stream.
And we need to stop pretending empty seats validate us.
Because in this sport, growth isn’t measured in ticket stubs. It’s measured in moments. In accessibility. In equity. In the roar of the crowd—no matter how big the box it came in.
So yeah. Maybe it’s time to rethink what we’re selling. Because if the product’s passion, then size doesn’t matter.
But the experience does.
By Someone Who’s Seen Too Much, Drank Too Little, and Still Thinks Lacrosse Deserves Better
