The day before the first Beehive Classic would be staged in December, I checked the ticket chart and was stunned to see thousands upon thousands of unsold seats.

The doubleheader featuring four Utah college basketball teams at Vivint Smart Home Arena was announced in the summer of 2016, so I knew for nearly 18 months that I would be there on that Saturday night needing material for the Sunday newspaper. Why wouldn’t everybody else come?

That’s when it hit me: I’m out of touch with what it really is like to be a sports fan. And that’s about to change this year during my quest to discover the fan experience.

The answers to my question about why fewer than 8,000 people attended the Beehive Classic drove home the point. Attending these events, especially in an era when nearly every game is televised, requires considerable expense of time, effort and money.

I’m compensated for going; I understand that. As the great basketball philosopher Kyrylo Fesenko once said when I complimented his rebounding, “This is my job. I receive money for this.”

And when I’m working, admission is covered. I’m spoiled. In this decade, I’ve paid a total of $481 for tickets to sporting events — $475 for a grandstand seat at the Kentucky Derby (plus the costs of parking and, of course, multiple mint juleps) and $6 to watch Tanner Mangum’s sister play high school basketball in Idaho (free parking).

Airfare, lodging and a ticket to the Heart of Dallas Bowl totaled more than $481. So even though only a few hundred Utah fans attended the game, I was impressed by those who did go, including some whom I interviewed about why they were motivated to be there. And in response to a Tribune Letter to the Editor, I’ll defend Terri Treat as a caring mother and grandmother. She just believed the Utes needed her in Dallas the day after Christmas, and who’s to say they didn’t?

In any case, I want to discover what it’s like out there in the stands, after having watched college football games from the press box since I was 14, working in a radio booth then moving to the writers’ row. That means having to worry only about dressing in neutral colors, not about how many layers to wear in the cold (or how to avoid the heat). I’ve also never sat in the student section for a college basketball game. So I’ll do that for once.

(Trent Nelson | The Salt Lake Tribune) BYU fans as BYU hosts Utah, NCAA women's basketball in Provo, Saturday December 9, 2017.

Beyond life in the seats, I want to explore a cultural component of attendance. In a videotaped message shown near the end of the Utes’ season-opening meet, star gymnast MyKayla Skinner thanked the “15,000 fans” for coming to the Huntsman Center. She exaggerated, but not by much. The count was 14,802.

The next Friday, when I came to the Ute women’s basketball game vs. No. 14 UCLA, I stopped at the top of the lower bowl and had to read the sign twice to comprehend the instructions to general-admission patrons: “Please sit below row 15.” Not above, below.

The crowd (3,281) was lively, creating a fun atmosphere. But will the Utah women ever play a basketball game without curtains closing off the upper bowl?

And I have so many other questions: How many hot dogs and peanuts must I eat to justify the $37 cost of the Jazz’s all-you-can-eat package that includes standing room at the top of the arena?

Why don’t more people attend the Salt Lake City Stars games in the NBA G League, with up-close seats, low ticket prices and recognizable names on every roster?

Why do fans who pay more than $100 for lower-bowl Jazz seats go crazy about potentially getting a free chicken sandwich?

What would it be like to spend 12 hours walking the fairways of Oakridge Country Club during the Web.com Tour golf event? Or stand along a country road for a few minutes as the Tour of Utah cyclists go by?

During the 48 minutes of a Jazz game when the clock is running, how long is there silence without piped-in music playing? And did Wolfmother ever imagine their song “Joker and the Thief” becoming the unofficial pregame anthem of the Utes (borrowed from Oregon)?

Yeah, this will be fun. It also should be good preparation for me because I’ll become one of you one of these years.