You know, I like to refrain, for the most part, from this kind of discourse because, really, it makes me tired. And I have So Many Other Things to think about. Honestly, I do.
But I am Sick Unto Death of this Carolina-Duke rivalry, and this is not because “my” team (that’s what one is supposed to do here, you know– claim ownership of some kind, as if fandom means ownership, or implies possession of some sort) lost Again last night to UNC, “our” second loss to “our” biggest rival in a little over a few weeks, and this time on “their” home court. No, I am not Sick Unto Death of this because “my” team lost, or because “my” team broke Tyler Hansbrough’s nose. This is not a sore loser speaking here. No, it isn’t.
No, I am Sick Unto Death because this incident only feeds a nasty persistence on the side of the UNC fans to believe that the name “Blue Devils” actually means something other than it does: the nickname of some sort of air force flying ace during one of the world wars. Yes, UNC fans like to believe that Duke is inherently wicked, that Coach K is actually some sort of demon, and that all the Duke players have shrines to Baal in their basements.
And I guess it’s exciting, isn’t it? It’s human nature, maybe, to want to believe in a Dark Side like this one.
But here’s the skinny, folks: the guy Did Not Mean to break Hansbrough’s nose.
He may have meant to be rough. He may have been going for a foul of some sort (I know so little of these things). He may have been frustrated, yea angry, at this point in the game. It’s been a bad season, and Duke was losing badly, and Heaven Only Knows that we all have a hard time in similar situations. The guy was rough, and his roughness went the Wrong Way.
Which is Really Unfortunate for him and, frankly, all of Duke, because those UNC fans in their pasty blue (and I happen to be wearing a pasty blue shirt Even As I Type) have turned this bloody and ugly accident into a giant character flaw which they will, from here on out, apply to the Entire University for as long as they have breath.
Well.
All I can say is that, for those of us dwelling in hell because of our allegiance to a deeper shade of blue, UNC’s eternal innocence, goodness, cheerfulness, magnanimity; their lack of all Irregular Playing or Deeds Done In Frustration or Anger; their generosity of spirit and purity on the basketball court and, therefore, in all manner of living; their alliance with farm animals (of an admittedly fierce variety) as opposed to princes of the air; their foregoing Ever and at Any Time any kind of behavior on or off the court that might leave them subject to criticism or even shades of doubt as to their intentions– all of this comes as sweet relief to us. All we have to worry about– ever– is a solid trouncing on the basketball court, in a game of good, clean, well-intentioned fun, whether on our court or theirs.
Isn’t it good to know, in this postmodern age, that there is such a thing as a Good Guy?
I think I’m going to move.
