Hilton Magic, the mystique that once struck fear into the hearts of opponents, has become more David Blaine than Merlin.

Up until the early part of this decade, few teams came into Hilton Coliseum and left with a “W.” During a span from 1999 to 2001, 39 times opponents came to Ames and 39 times they went home empty handed. The blistering wind and freezing rain weren’t the only reasons to avoid Iowa come winter.

This tragic degradation of a once proud and nationally recognized tradition leaves some questions to be answered. What happened to Hilton Magic, and who is responsible?

Did we, as fans, get so used to success that, at the first sign of a setback, we jumped off the bandwagon so fast we had to run alongside to collect our belongings?

During the late ’90s and early part of this decade, ISU basketball was a program to be reckoned with. The likes of Hoiberg, Cato, Fizer, Tinsley and Sullivan graced the court and led Iowa State to unprecedented success and into the national spotlight. The NCAA Tournament was almost a given, and most years a trip to the Big Dance came with at least one win as a parting gift. In 1995, ’96, ’97, ’00 and ’01 the Cyclones finished ranked in the Top 25 in the final AP poll, peaking at No. 6 in 2000 after a run to the Elite Eight.

During all of these magnificent seasons, fans from around the state flocked to Ames on a regular basis to flood Hilton with their support. The attendance since 1995 has remained fairly steady, hovering around 30th in the nation and averaging around 11,500 fans. Last season was no different, with almost 12,500 fans showing up each game during coach Greg McDermott’s inaugural season.

So if it’s not the number of fans, maybe it’s the stuff the audience is composed of.

The Iowa-Iowa State game my sophomore year was prime example of what Hilton can turn into when the Magic is really flowing. By the time the evil Hawkeyes – lead by the devil himself, Adam Haluska – came onto the floor for warm-ups, the roof was ready to blow off.

The biggest reason? Cyclone Alley had filled the baseline sections all the way to the rafters, filling the arena with a fervor that only pent-up, aggressive college students can employ.

Sadly, those days seem to be dwindling, if not gone outright.

Saturday was one of the biggest days in Iowa State basketball history. Alumni from seven decades were back in town to celebrate 100 years of hoops. At halftime the All-Century team was honored, with many of the legends here in the flesh, not only to celebrate their accomplishments, but also to witness the future ones being made.

In the midst of all the tradition and hoopla there was one glaring sore, a blemish that has put a taint on the whole season.

On the west end of the arena in the parquet, where students should have been fighting each other for a seat to see the legends of their school, was a gaping hole where no one sat.

The balcony was filled to the roof with citizens who came from across the country to witness one of the largest gatherings of former players in the country. But not enough students could be bothered to show up for the celebration.

This lack of student support has been a problem all season for the Cyclones. The Daily reported last month that after cutting the student ticket allotment by more than 1,200 this year, Athletics Director Jamie Pollard is considering giving the east balcony and its 980 student seats to the general public if the attendance doesn’t improve.

And that was how we decided to prove our loyalty?

Going to college sporting events is one of greatest experiences of my life and I wish I could keep going for the rest of my life. But the reality is, once you graduate, the opportunity to show your support changes. You can’t really afford to show up hours early when you have a job, and nothing is creepier than a 40-year-old hanging out in the student section.

So I give this advice to you as a senior who has witnessed the ups and downs of ISU basketball: Show up, cheer loudly and relish this opportunity you’ve been given.

You’ve got four, or maybe five, years to really yell. After that, you’ll just look like Mark Cuban.