I grew up in the heart of North Carolina where watching college basketball was as essential as breathing air. You either liked Duke OR Carolina, there was no middle ground, and the other team became your life-long sworn enemy.
I’m showing my age by admitting this but when I was in high school, the ACC had only 8 teams. This set up one glorious Friday of nonstop basketball action on the opening day of the conference tournament. All eight teams played, no byes or play in games. Most years my incredibly cool mom would sign me out of school so I could watch at home but the times I was in school, TV’s were wheeled down from the AV department so we could cheer on our teams while in class. Even as a young girI, for my birthday, I opted for UNC/Duke game day gatherings instead of princess parties. And when it was time to date, you’d have to think long and hard before going out with someone in the opposite camp. Were they really so special that you could overlook such an appalling character flaw? What would others think? And if you were to marry and have kids one day, how would you raise them, a ram or a devil?
I couldn’t wait to start a family and raise up my own little Tar heels. When my first son was born I dressed him head to toe in Carolina blue, started taking him to the games when he could barely walk and sang him the victory song as I rocked him to sleep. Around 4 years old something snapped in him and he betrayed me in the worst way a son could betray his mother. He became a Duke fan.
When my second son was born, I swore that I would not lose him to the “dark (blue) side”. He is a Carolina fan through and through and even with a persuasive older brother constantly trying to lure him over, he is holding strong. I pray it stays this way but I will resort to bribery if the need arises.
It is now NCAA tournament time and as we pore over the statistics and watch hours and hours of sports center to fill out our brackets, I can’t help but notice that many pundits have predicted Duke and Carolina to meet in the Championship game. There is a certain excitement at the thought of answering a previously unanswerable question. We may never know “What happened to ‘B’ batteries?” or “What do you call a male ladybug?”, but we would finally know who has the better team on a national stage. I get chills even typing this. But I am also worried what it might do to our happy little “house divided” because beating your arch enemy in THE national championship game would guarantee bragging rights for at least, well, forever.
jedimommy 