My love for the NBA is well documented. Those who have spoken to me for more than 10 minutes know the relationship that I have with basketball, particularly at the professional level. But UNC holds a special place in my soul. I grew up a Tar Heel, and there’s just something about that color that gets me going. The culture of the University of North Carolina is unparalleled. Going to Chapel Hill feels like a basketball pilgrimage, something that is necessary for true appreciation of the sport.
There are a few moments that I will always remember from my lifelong fandom. I will always remember losing to Kansas in the Final Four in 2008. I remember watching them achieve redemption the following year by winning it all. I remember when my favorite Tar Heel of my lifetime broke his wrist in 2012 (I promise you that if Kendall Marshall stays healthy, UNC wins the whole thing). I remember the most clutch shot I had ever seen from Marcus Paige in 2016 against Villanova (who I still hate). I remember ruining JJ Redick’s senior night. But there is nothing that can compare to the feeling I experienced when the clock hit 0.0 and UNC stood victorious against the evil Blue Devils and their Palpatine-esque coach.
The magnitude of this year’s Final Four is not lost on me. In the moment, it was suffocating. The mere thought of potentially losing to Duke on such a big stage, at the tail end of an obnoxiously long and storied coaching career, was sickening. Yet as the game approached, I found myself feeling more and more confident. Armando Bacot had been on a tear. RJ Davis and Caleb Love remained steady, even if infuriating. Puff Johnson played smart basketball for the tournament’s entirety. Leaky Black defended well and made the right pass every time. Brady Manek proved once again that he was the missing ingredient to this Tar Heel team. By the time the game tipped off, I loved our chances. After all, last time the Heels saw Dook, they smacked them in the mouth in Durham.
I’d be lying if I said I was going to miss Coach K. His face conjures inner negativity that I find impossible to describe. The Duke monolith will always be there regardless of who is at the helm. That stupid mascot, dumb blue hue, and degenerate fanbase will be always be ripe for the hating. But time is sobering. I truly believe that in his own way, Coach K brought the best out of UNC. We always have to beat Duke, but in particular, we had to beat him. I don’t take the rivalry so seriously that I truly hate all associated with the university, but I do hate them. Hopefully that makes sense.
Caleb Love’s shot to put the game out of reach (along with clutch free throws to seal the deal) will forever be a memory that I will cherish. To beat Duke on that stage, at that particular point in history, is indescribable. But for the Dukies reading this:
Coach K is a colossal basketball figure. Love him or hate him, it’s the truth. I won’t miss him, but I’ll miss seeing the Heels compete against him. And like it or not, every great college basketball coach will be compared to him in perpetuity until he’s inevitably surpassed.
Duke faithful, fear not, we’ll see you again. The best rivalry in college basketball is going nowhere. Truthfully, it could use some new faces. As for Coach K, I have this to say: So long, farewell. Thanks for the memories, and I hope you never come back. It has been a pleasure to hate you all these years. I’m sure I’ll get over it one day.
Full Court Dime 
Palpatine-esque. I love it!
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