MANKATO — Ghost town. Deadsville. Graveyard.

Call it what you want. The fact remains: At Minnesota State University, during the days between Christmas and New Year’s Day, it’s nearly impossible to find life ... nearly impossible.

Our search began at the residence halls, where a quick scan of the McElroy parking lot found one lonely, snow-covered automobile, seemingly forgotten as 2007 comes to a close.

The residence hall door is locked, but a kind soul opens it. At the front desk is Michael Peterson.

He works as a community advisor in McElroy, and decided staying on campus over the month-long break — in a dorm building where, he estimates, between 10 and 20 students remain — was more appealing to him than going home to West Concord, a sleepy town of about 800 between Owatonna and Rochester.

Why’d he stay on campus?

“I didn’t want to go home,” the mechanical engineering major said. He works a few hours at the front desk, and then is on call for the rest of the night. To pass time, he hangs out with friends in his room watching movies and cruising the ‘net.

Is campus as dead as it looks?

“Yes.”

We say good-bye and take our search to the heart of campus.

Near the library a middle-aged man in a green coat, books in hand, is heading toward the great building of knowledge.

When asked for comment, he declined to give his name. But he did state his intentions. On this day, when the library is closed, he is dutifully returning his materials, lest they be marked overdue. He happens to work in the library, as well.

“You gotta set a good example,” mystery man says.

Down the street, a man is walking an animal that looks sort of like a sheep dog, and sort of like ... well, like some other kind of dog. It’s name is Vodamil (which, apparently, is Czech for water dog.)

Its owner is Jerry Pomija, an MSU graduate, class of ’88. He grew up in Mankato and went to Mankato East before MSU. His wife is a member of the MSU chemistry faculty.

They live in Prior Lake, but are in town for a family holiday gathering. And it seemed, Pomija said, like a good time and place for a walk.

Further into the heart of campus we go, searching for life. We arrive at the campus’ epicenter — the fountain on the mall.

During the summer it is a bubbly, noisy icon of campus. But in winter, during the break between Christmas and New Year’s, when there are no students, no faculty (that we know of ... there might be a few die hards in their offices huddled over a nice Kierkegaard or Nietzsche, but we’d never know because all the academic buildings are locked but, curiously, fully lit) the fountain is downright magical.

Animal tracks sprinkle over the blanket of snow that cozies the fountain. Tall lamps, the streetlights of the mall, toss tungsten cones of golden every 30 or 40 feet. It is silent, except for the occasional sound of the bell tower chiming out what time it is. There are no peop— ... Wait a minute.

An MSU security squad car is parked on the mall, and inside it there is a security guard. Surely he or she will be able to say whether intelligent life exists on campus during these ghost town days.

We ask if he can he talk to us about Deadsville.

“No.”

“Just a couple of questions, really ...”

“No. We don’t do Free Press articles. That’s our policy.”

“Oh.”

“You can contact media relations.”

“... OK.”

Our search goes on. We check behind Gage towers, around all sides of the Centennial Student Union. We check out the new Searing Residence Hall, all sides of the Performing Arts Building, even the new Trafton Addition.

And then it happened. People old and young begin to come. Smiling people, happy people, people willing to stand in line.

Of course. It is athletics. Even during the glummest, quietest campus days, the game must go on. Men’s basketball, a heated match vs. the hated and feared Warriors of Winona State University.

On top of that, there are wacky promotions going on, including one that urges game-goers to bring in garments with college logos other than MSU’s to be exchanged for a new MSU/TCF Bank sweatshirt.

Garments from Notre Dame, South Dakota State University, Drake, Buena Vista, Michigan State, Wisconsin and St. Cloud State come in and fill the donation boxes.

Next week all those donated shirts will make their way to the Salvation Army.

Finally, the search for life is over. Nothing like a game of hoops to save the day.