He’s that one guy in the sea of empty bleachers at every women’s basketball game. His dancing doesn’t blend in with the other people when the pep band plays, probably because there usually aren’t any other people in the student section. It doesn’t bother him; just gives him more room to work with when the band plays.
Most just call him the “superfan” even though ‘Noah’ is splashed across the brim of his Northwestern-decaled construction hat.
I knew three things about Noah, the same three things that everyone knows about Noah before they talk to him. Noah loves sports, he loves to dance and his name is, well, Noah.
I ask him if I can sit with him during the second half of the Northwestern-Michigan game.
“You’ll just be observing right?” These are the first words he speaks to me, and with that, Noah sets the terms. There will be no talking during the action and especially no talking during the pep band.
Noah doesn’t want to be distracted when he dances to Lady Gaga and Weezer.
It doesn’t matter that Michigan is up nearly 10 points midway through the second half; Noah isn’t going to give them a break on their free throws. He picks up a clipboard of papers and a green felt pen. His exaggerated fake writing and half smirk blend into the silence of Welsh-Ryan Arena before the first shot.
At the precise moment the Michigan player releases the ball, Noah whips his clipboard in front of his face and screams, “That’s the best you can do?”. The shot goes in.
“Oh well, sometimes being a lemming at the free throw line is a good thing. Other times it doesn’t work.” Noah puts down the clipboard.
That’s when I notice the papers. There’s a diagram of a cylinder, equal signs, x’s and y’s. Noah is doing math problems. No wait, I’m wrong. Noah is grading math problems.
I don’t know if it was Noah’s dancing. Perhaps it was his calculated speech; every word is over-enunciated as if it’s meticulously thought out. All I know is that I fell into a trap. A trap of judgments that led me to believe Noah was the last person in that arena who would be grading calculus papers.
Noah Weiss is a graduate student at Northwestern University studying applied mathematics. He also has Asperger’s Syndrome, an affliction that affects a person’s capacity in social situations.
At 23, Noah is in his second year of grad school. He took a teacher’s assistant position last quarter and he leads a discussion in calculus this quarter.
“Most assignments in grad school aren’t linear. There are a lot of twists, turns and brick walls.” Noah waves his hands in a non-linear fashion to attempt to describe the intricacies of the applied math program.
Turns out, it’s pretty intricate.
“I was banging my head against the wall before I got here because of a computer project.” Noah hesitates, seriously contemplating whether or not he should attempt explaining what the homework actually is. “It’s basically solving a problem for stress computationally on a rod that’s being forced from one end.”
I cover up my journalism-sized brain with some attempted wit. Stress, huh? Well, isn’t that ironic. Noah claps his hands to his knees making the double snare and cymbal sound.
Using more words like “salient” and “stigmatized,” (he may have even thrown in another “lemming”) Noah describes his life story pre-Wildcat, just like his math, non-linearly. He left me to put the pieces back in order.
In first grade, he got the diagnoses that attempted to define his life. “I guess Asperger’s explains some of my quirks,” he says with a chuckle.
Noah’s sports “fandom” began his junior year of high school. The school even gave him a plaque for being the best fan “anytime, anywhere.” His smile doesn’t hide his not-so-subtle sense of pride.
Noah then went to Nebraska to study math. His ‘Husker blood ran red, no pun intended. He went to every home game for every sport except tennis. “Their courts were too far away.”
When it came time to choose a grad school, Noah had two choices, Northwestern or Pittsburgh. Forget about academics, Noah’s decision came down to bike friendliness. “Northwestern also just had a better name,” he said.
Outside of teaching, Noah doesn’t miss a home Northwestern sporting event. That is, unless bridge club or his Pokémon league in Chicago conflict with his schedule. For approximately 10 hours a week, attending Northwestern athletics is Noah’s unpaid, part-time job.
“I am trying to show all the teams that there are people that want to support them that are outside their friends and family,” he said.
“Unlike many college fans, I never boo players or bring them down,” he said. “Sportsmanship; the way I act is in the word.”
As a former Husker, Noah plans to confront his conflicting allegiances in the Big Ten next year like he always does, with a math problem.
“I will cheer for Nebraska 50 percent, plus or minus epsilon, and for Northwestern 50 percent, plus or minus epsilon.”
My C in calculus senior year did not help me in this situation.
“Epsilon is a number arbitrarily close to zero. That means if I have to pick a team I will cheer plus or minus epsilon in either direction.”
Noah started going to women’s basketball games two years ago; the same year they made the fifth-best turnaround in the NCAA.
“I don’t know if it was my doing. One of the confounding variables is that they also got coach Joe McKeown.” Noah tried to be modest, using his experience as a former psychology major.
Confounding or not, Noah’s presence at women’s games adds a dynamic that many thought didn’t exist; a student section (emphasis on the singular “student”).
There is no bus to Welsh-Ryan Arena, so Noah straps on his orange vest and reflecting bike helmet. There are no students at women’s basketball games so Noah cheers even louder. “I have realized that there are many ways to get through problems and situations.” Applied math has transcended the classroom for Noah.
Northwestern lost to Michigan 76-63. That didn’t stop that guy with the construction hat from clapping through the fight song. You know, that guy who dances during the timeouts. He’s the one who belts out the alma mater at the end of the game.
You can’t miss his voice in the empty arena when he sings , “Hail to purple, hail to white, hail to thee Northwestern.”