Chris Kent is a madman – or a hopeless romantic.

On the one hand, the Syracuse men’s basketball fan obsesses over a woman he talked to, off-handedly, twice. He’s 43. She’s … maybe 20? He doesn’t even know her name. All he knows is she wore pink boots the only time he saw her.

Then again, his feelings are visceral. He’s considering driving over from Rochester to the Syracuse campus, hoping he runs into the girl of his dreams. He just wants to talk to her, find out her name. He hesitates calling this a crush. He’s not one for karma, but there’s something profound about this.

‘I’ve been married,’ Kent says,’ and I never felt this way about my wife.’

Chris Kent is something all right. He’s a Rochester-native divorcee with children. He attended the Syracuse-Providence game on Feb. 26, Senior Day, and sat next to a woman. For over a week after the game, he placed an ad in this paper requesting that the pink-booted vixen get in touch with him.

So far, he’s gotten no responses.

So which is it? Is Kent the most romantic man in Upstate New York? Or is he the biggest creep since TLC released their single?

Even he doesn’t know.

It probably depends on the outcome. Pink Boots and Kent could reunite and fall deeply in love. Or, after reading this, she could enter the Witness Protection Program.

‘I hope you don’t think I’m some kind of weirdo,’ Kent says. ‘I’m certain there are (people who think that). … Some people could read this and think, ‘This guy could be a whacko.’ But this is really out of character for me. I’m really a shy, reserved kind of guy.’

So reserved, he withheld talking to the woman of his desire.

Since Kent ruminates through that fateful day endlessly, let’s run through it, too, Feb. 26.

At 9 a.m., a languid Kent shuddered into consciousness as his telephone rang. His brother asked him if he’d like to go to the Syracuse-Providence game, scheduled for later that day.

Longing to attend a game this season, Kent agreed. Considering traffic and the noon start, the brothers arrived just as the crowd ended its opening-game clap.

As he shuffled into his seat, he passed by a nubile darling.

‘Immediately, I felt something,’ he says.

He would be sitting next to this lovely lady all game.

Twice in the course of their ensuing venture did the two interact. Kent, an inspired fan, jumped from his seat at one emotional moment, fortuitously knocking his keys against the lady.

He apologized. She smiled forgivingly. His first interaction with Pink Boots ended.

As the game dragged on, he dared himself to speak to her. Through his mind raced potential inquiries. What’s your major? Do you come to many games?

‘There was some eye contact,’ Kent says, ‘but not much. I don’t know. I don’t know if she’s interested or not.’

Instead, the reticent elder withheld, figuring these feelings would pass once the game ended and his life resumed.

Soon, the game did end. As Pink Boots started exiting, her escape was blocked by other slow-moving fans clogging the aisle. Kent noticed an opportunity.

Stepping onto the bleachers, he spoke.

‘Here you go,’ he said, directing the woman to the other side, where an easier escape path presented itself.

Within seconds, she left. His feelings lingered.

Even today, Kent’s passion runs deep. In the ensuing 25 days, Kent’s life has been consumed by reuniting with Pink Boots.

He considered his options. He tried rationalizing this silly crush out of his head. He tried to reason with himself.

His youngest son, with him at the game, told Kent they were on the Jumbotron. So Kent devoted his time to tracking down a video. His search ended in vain.

Clearly, though, forgetting this woman wasn’t an option.

As Pink Boots continued running through his mind, Kent consulted companions across a broad age range. They all suggested he pursue it, considering he felt so strongly.

Soon after, he devised the idea of placing his ad.

Still without a response, he is considering coming back to SU soon. (He’s off work Thursday), hanging around Marshall Street and praying she passes him.

‘I’d definitely recognize her,’ Kent says. ‘If I never see her again, I’ll carry around that image in my head for the rest of my life.’

And if Kent runs into her?

‘I think I would probably stammer out a hello,’ he says, ‘and ask her if she remembered me. And ask if I could talk to her. I don’t know. I guess I’d have to read her reaction.

‘I’m willing to risk looking foolish, which isn’t something I’m usually willing to do, to find out what her name is. That’s my biggest query right now.

So Pink Boots, if you’re out there, Chris Kent wants you to know something.

‘Please help,’ he says. ‘Don’t be shy. I’m not a weirdo.’

Scott Lieber is a junior magazine major. E-mail him at smlieber@syr.edu.

Published on March 21, 2005 at 12:00 pm