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Brown, who graduated the day before the game, commandeers the broadcast, howling bombastic descriptions of the on-court action.
"Blocked with two hands!" he says of a swatted shot. "She played volleyball with that one."
"The bank's not open that late on a Saturday," he yells when a shot ricochets off the glass.
Witkowski studies the stats and ensures that the equipment is running properly during the play-by-play.
The game is knotted at 28 at the half. Witkowski hops on the mic while Brown, who seems to know everyone, glad-hands and schmoozes with fans.
This late-December game is only the sixth college hoops contest that the K-ROO team has covered. The three speak clearly and rarely talk over one another, making their sportscasts polished and professional.
During the halftime show, the three-man crew chats about the Roos being in foul trouble and about head coach Marsha Frese's demeanor.
"She's not going to accept boneheaded play," Witkowski assures his listeners.
"No, she's very no-nonsense," Tapp agrees.
Witkowski also gives an update on the player who took the elbow to the schnoz. "Miranda Tate [is] now donning the mask a la [Chicago Bulls guard] Rip Hamilton," he says.
As the game winds down, Eastern Michigan pulls ahead, and the game slips away from the Roos. Final score: Eastern Michigan 74, UMKC 69. K-ROO's broadcasters have their own problem with the score.
"They won't give us a player for an interview unless the team wins," Witkowski explains off-air about UMKC's athletics department.
Without postgame interviews, he says, it's harder for the trio to put together decent clip reels to send to potential employers.
"It's bullshit," Witkowski says.
In the UMKC student union during the second week of January, Osburn, Tapp and Witkowski toil in a sweaty room to make their broadcasts relevant on campus. K-ROO's radio geeks have given up their lengthy winter break to work in the station's studio, on the student union's third floor.
With red hair, a surface piercing on the left side of her face, and bright tattoos on her forearms, Osburn is the only member of K-ROO's core staff who looks like a traditional college student. Her dry humor and wit are a check to Tapp and Witkowski's thick banter, which occasionally veers broadcasts into boys-club territory.
The floor resembles the starship Enterprise, if the craft were decorated by Ikea. Brightly colored, oddly shaped furniture fills the space. The three spend the morning applying foam acoustic panels to the studio's walls and printing stacks of fliers to distribute around campus. They're also updating K-ROO's website with a new logo. (The old image was phallic.) And they're ordering K-ROO-branded koozies and bottle openers to give to students to help raise the station's profile.
Their optimism verges on giddiness as they finalize a work schedule for the upcoming semester: A core member of the K-ROO staff will broadcast in the studio at all times, except from 10 p.m. to 10 a.m., when an automated program will stream music. When the student union is closed, K-ROO can be run from a remote laptop.
At the beginning of the year, K-ROO acquired a music license, so that its DJs can play any artist they want. (Previously they were playing only local and independent artists.) Today, they're streaming a sonic hodgepodge, from Lady Gaga and Fun to local Kansas City bands and indie artists.
"That's been a recruiting problem in the past," Tapp says. "We couldn't play everything all the time. And now we can play anything all the time. Except for when they shut the student union down on us and we have to do it from our house."