The moment you step into the subterranean, no-frills gymnasium on Manhattan’s Upper West Side, it’s clear that this isn’t the land of blue-chip recruits, multi-million dollar budgets or unscrupulous “advisors.”
Truthfully, that much is readily apparent the moment you exit the 1 train at 116th Street and meander up the decrepit staircase into the brisk January air among a crowd of chattering students, an elderly couple or two and a few scattered fans in team colors.
Through towering wrought iron gates, a small avenue leads into a grassy square flanked by enormous, stately buildings* that evoke eras past when New York City was in the early throes of reconciling its European origins with its American upbringing. To the left, up a few minor inclines and past a couple of stone lions, is the entrance to Columbia’s Levien Gym.
The Brew House 