KU fans watch the K-State game at Johnny's Tavern West, 721 Wakarusa Dr., Wednesday March 3, 2010. KU won the game 82-65.

Mojo is as mojo does, and in college basketball postseason, die-hard KU fans will go to any length to get their mojo working to ensure victory for the team.

For some, it’s lucky sweatpants. For others, it’s a hat or Jayhawk earrings. For believers in the power of a magic place (other than Phog Allen Fieldhouse) – it’s a bar stool, table or standing room at their favorite bar and grill.

Ask Morris Wold of Lawrence if he’s superstitious, and he chuckles.

“Not really,” he says, with a laugh. “I’m not into all that.”

But he has been watching basketball and football games at Biggs Barbecue since they opened in 2004, and he does have a special seat, right?

“Yeah, I usually sit at the bar on the stool next to the register where the girls turn in their orders,” he admits. “I get there at least an hour early – earlier if it’s a big game – and try to get that seat. I missed (last) Saturday’s game because I had to go to Kentucky. I got blamed (for the loss to Oklahoma State) pretty good when I got back.”

Wold claims it’s the camaraderie and the barbecue that entice him to return, game after game, not some kind of voodoo hooey.

“I’m home alone, so it gets me out among people. There’s quite a crowd of regulars there,” he says.

But, he does wear the same clothes while he’s sitting on the same bar stool at the same restaurant, yes?

“I do wear the same shirt. Matter of fact, I wore it last Saturday in Kentucky, which didn’t help, but I’m going to wash it, and I’m hoping that will help.”

And what would happen if he couldn’t occupy his special stool bar at Biggs for a March Madness game?

“I hate to even think about it,” Wold says, nervously. “Let’s just hope that never happens.”

But Morris isn’t superstitious or anything.

In the trenches

KU grad and computer geek Gene Mah has been searching for the most magical, mojo-filled place since 1989.

“I’ve been doing it for 20 years. In the early days – this was ’89 to about ’92 – my friends and I used to go to the old, old Yacht Club all the time,” Mah recalls. “But when we started losing early in the tournament, I stopped going.”

“After the Yacht Club,” he continues. “I was going to friends’ houses to watch games, but then we lost to Bucknell and Bradley in the first rounds. I had to stop doing that.”

“I don’t consider myself superstitious,” Mah says, firmly. “Basically, I just stop going to a place if we start having a losing streak.”

(Right, Gene. Not superstitious at all.)

Recently, Mah, an independent computer consultant, has found a certain charm in a four-top table at Johnny’s Tavern West.

“I know everyone there, and since I’m self-employed, my friends ‘allow me’ to go real early and get the table,” he says. “I’lI bring my laptop, so I don’t feel like a total loser, and do work while I hold the table. I drink a lot, so I pay my way.”

Because of some recent technological heroics on Mah’s part – when he miraculously jerry-rigged the restaurant’s stereo system minutes before the Iowa State game – he doesn’t have to worry about arriving early anymore.

“I made an agreement with (a Johnny’s West manager) that night, so he saves me a four-top table for the rest of the tournaments.”

Not that Mah minds the extra effort it takes to stake out his magic table.

“This isn’t a big deal for me because when I went to KU, we used to camp out at the Fieldhouse, sometimes for three days. And this was outside!” he notes. “Those kids today are spoiled, if you ask me.”

“I’ve been in the trenches. This is nothing. For the championship in ’08, I was in a bar at noon for an 8 o’clock tip, or whatever time it was.”

Table manners

Across the river, Johnny’s Tavern owner Rick Renfro says he’s got lots of customers like Morris and Gene, especially during March and – knock on a wooden barstool – early April.

“Most definitely,” he says, “And I’m the same way, too. We typically don’t hold tables for people, but if I have a group of customers that are doing that – thinking they’ve got the lucky table and the mojo – then I’m all about reservations. I’ll bend the rules. But, if they’re sitting there and we lose the game, I don’t ban them from the table forever, but I don’t let them sit there again.”

So, he’s superstitious, right?

“Oh, heck yeah. I wear the same dang sweatshirt and throw on the little beadies. And I put the Jayhawk in the same spot at the bar. Whatever works, you know?”