It's 9 am and Chianti Dan is pouring himself his third Bordeaux of the morning. A knock on the door, and his trusty assistant, Chancellor Block, comes into the office. "You rang, sire?" Block asked.
"Yes, sit down," said Chianti Dan, swirling the red in his mouth before spitting. "I've got an idea."
"Excuse me, sir, but didn't we already say that those things, your ideas, are dangerous?"
"No worries, this is a good one. You know that building where a bunch of tall men jump up and down?"
"The parking lot, sire?" Block asked, wondering why he wasn't being offered a glass.
"No, the thing next to the parking lot. I think they play sport there."
"Oh, I've got it! You're talking about Pauley Pavilion..."
"Yes, Block, I think that's the name. Well, I was at Starbucks this morning, by the way, did you know they don't serve wine? My friend, Pat Haden told me they did, damn him. Anyway, I was disappointed about the wine, so I decided to buy some cake. And there I saw it."
"Saw what, sire?"
"Cake under glass. And that's when it hit me. Let's put that building of sport under glass."
"That's a cracking idea," Block said, rising from his seat. "We could find top sport architects, have them improve all of the site lines, and create something that honors the history of our sport, I think it's called basketball, and still give our students, alumni and fans a great experience."
Chianti Dan lean back in his chair and laughed. "What is it that you do around here, Block? You're being silly and I'm the only person allowed to be silly. No, my good friend, I want to enclose the whole thing in glass. That's the big idea."
Chianti leaned forward, elbows on the desk, an earnest look crossing his face. The wine was taking effect. "Don't you see? We can do two things that should be mutually exclusive. We can spend a lot of money, money we'll not be able to raise again for a generation, but make the whole project look cheap."
Chianti stood up and paced the floor. He only did that when he felt extremely confident. He preferred to sit. "Why hire an architect specializing in buildings of sport? I found out that we have this guy named Wooden, and his family is known to have opinions on what should happen. And in the call that I made, Wooden's family said they always loved their seats, so they didn't want anything changed."
"But what about the complaints from people who say sitting in the rafters of this Pavilion is like watching these tall men from the top of the Space Shuttle?"
"Not our concern," Chianti Dan yelled. "Don't bother me with trivialities. Now listen. Everything is to remain the same, except under glass, shinier, and with a great wine bar. It'll be great."
Block stood up to leave, his head hanging. He was no fan of sport, but even he knew this was an epic Chianti Dan boondoggle. Block's passion bucket was not only empty, but rattling with the dead hopes of future irate Bruin fans.
As he made his way out the door, he turned back to Chianti Dan, "There's a circle on the floor. Spells something. I don't know what, but it seemed to have been there for decades. We're still keeping that, correct?"
Chianti Dan turned to Block, his brain filled with ideas about shortening the basketball court by twenty feet, "I see something different. A UCLA sticker at mid court. After all..."
Chianti reached for his wine glass, and stares at it. He looked back at Block. "...no one cares about what happens on the court. It's all about the glass, my dear Block. Always...about...the...glass."