A couple weeks ago, John and I went to the United Center to see a Bulls game. After looking forward to the date for a while, when the day finally arrived, there was a distinct possibility that we weren’t going to go.

We decided to get tickets weeks earlier, largely on the basis of my analysis of the schedule and more than a small amount of wishful thinking. Like most other basketball fans in Chicago, we’ve been waiting most of this season for Derrick Rose to return from a torn ACL injury suffered during an early round play-off game last year.

I convinced myself (and John) that the Cleveland game would mark Rose’s debut and we purchased tickets online from a season ticket holder who probably didn’t share my conviction about the date for Rose’s return.

But on the morning of the game, local radio sports pundits announced that, despite rumors, Rose was not yet ready for his comeback. To further deflate our enthusiasm about visiting the Madhouse on Madison, we learned that the Cav’s very talented point guard, Kyrie Irving, was not going to suit up either. On top of that, it snowed.

Chicago wasn’t blanketed with paralyzing mountains of white powder, but from the wee hours of the morning through the beginning of the evening commute, heavy wet snow gummed up traffic and kept the salt truck crews busy. We weren’t sure about street parking restrictions being enforced around the stadium and the thought of dropping $20 on top of the cost of the tickets did not thrill us either.

Then the naysayers chimed in via an onslaught of texts. John’s friends, who may have enjoyed going on such an outing themselves when it was first planned, now had a different message; You eating the tickets?

As we gobbled down dinner, John must have asked me ten times, Are you sure you want to go?

I got the distinct vibe that he didn’t. He didn’t want to drive in the mammoth exhaust flavored slushy that the main boulevards were turning into. He was having a debate with himself about the entertainment value of a contest between two teams without their biggest stars.

Maybe it’s the Scottish in me (I had a hard time accepting the idea of not using tickets that were already paid for), but I was pretty adamant about going to the game. The streets were a little slow, but we were not miserable. We were also able to park FOR FREE only six blocks from the stadium.

What can I say, I like BEING THERE. I like being at events — at plays, concerts, friendly card games between neighbors. I appreciate the convenience of cable TV or indulging myself by curling up in a big chair with a big book, but I really like experiencing things LIVE.

We sat in the back row but had good sight lines for the game. An adorable 10 year-old Chinese boy with his Tiger Dad sat next to us. Dad was on his hand-held device the entire time. The giant scoreboard showcased clips of the Bulls acting goofy and occasionally projected images from the crowd. We saw plenty of grown-ups doing totally silly things to get free tee-shirts. There were lots of teens and folks who were not season ticketholders because, we conjectured, people who only got to go as a treat were more willing to make the effort to show up on a snowy night without marquee talent. Players who normally sat on the bench saw significant minutes and used the opportunity to show off their best stuff. The lead went back and forth the entire game. The crowd was really into it.

We ended up losing the game by three points but had a great time. I was happy — walking out of the stadium with other fans, navigating around ice floes on the way back to our car, driving home and listening to post-game interviews on the car radio.

People can make all sorts of excuses for not doing things, for not making the effort. I know I can make up reasons not to do things to avoid being disappointed. I am usually happy, though, when I choose to get to the game (or party or concert).

Being somewhere LIVE is no small thing.