1993, 2005, 2009, 2017.
I’ve seen UNC win four championships. Well, I’ve watched the 1982 game on YouTube, but I didn’t see that one live. In fact, I wasn’t really even a UNC fan back then. I didn’t even watch basketball. I liked a lot of teams actually, before finally jumping on the Carolina bandwagon and staying there. No, I didn’t grow up in NC. No, I am not a UNC alum. No, my family did not pass down my fanhood. I simply picked a team because they were good and always on TV, and at some point you have to choose one you’re going to root for. So I did. And that’s the story of that.
Now my goal is to pass that on to my kids so that when they’re asked when they became UNC fans, they can honestly say they were born into it. So I don’t mind being first generation and taking the hit for jumping on the bandwagon. I can handle it. Being a Carolina fan is easy, so I’m not seeking credit from anyone.
My older daughter is the UNC junkie. We watch games together, keep up with recruiting, study the history of the team. She’s all in and I love it. Now my younger daughter doesn’t get left out. She’s just not as passionate. She’s more into music and my concert buddy. In fact, she asked me if I would take her to see The xx and I’m still weeping tears of joy. But I’m getting off track … and sentimental.
So Lily and I went to the National Championship game last year in Houston. After all, it’s a once in a lifetime opportunity. I had seen UNC win three championships. I had run down the street like an idiot each time. I wanted my daughter to experience that. So we went. And if you wait until the day of the event, you can get tickets cheap. Just in case you are thinking of going. So we went, and UNC lost. Great game. Terrible ending. We were sitting about 30 rows behind Kris Jenkins as he rose up to take that shot and my head just dropped. The one guy on the floor you can’t let get a clean look got a clean look. And he drained it.
So we walked out that night with me having to help her hold back tears. She wanted to leave with about 2 minutes left and the Heels down 10. But I told her we don’t leave. That was lesson one. Then we saw Marcus Paige hit what should have been the iconic shot of the final, and I remember telling her, “We just need to play defense for 4.7 seconds. If this game goes into overtime, we’re going to win.” And then Jenkins happened, and this is still the coolest thing I’ve ever seen a coach do, even though it’s for the other team.
So Nova wins, and immediately she wanted to leave. “No,” I said. “We’re going to let them have their moment. They’ve waited 35 years for this. Let them have their moment. Then we’ll quietly slip out.” That was lesson two. What happened after that was unreal. I can’t tell you how classy the Villanova fans were. They could tell she’d been crying. One dad even stopped me and gave me that “man, that’s tough” look that dads give each other to acknowledge the one thing dads fear the most … not being able to fix something. So instead of fixing it, you have to show them how to handle it. And I can say now, not knowing at the time, but that was the best thing that could possibly have happened. Think about it. We got to see Marcus Paige, who had not had a super great senior year (by his standards), be clutch again. We got to see him put the team on his back and will them back from despair. And we got to see UNC be something they’re not usually accused of: TOUGH. They fought back when I’m so used to them dropping their shoulders and kind of pouting. We got to see a classic game with a classy fan base. One guy even hugged me and told me that was the greatest game he’s ever seen and Marcus Paige is the man and lots of other things. It was good for Lily to see that. Fans being respectful. You don’t see it much outside the arena. You see the fans burning couches in the street or tossing TVs out windows. What you see inside the arena are fans who are true to their team and tip the cap to the opposition. At least that’s what we saw. And I was thankful.
It was that night that I said, “That’s it. I don’t care if they play on the moon. The next time UNC is in the championship game, we’re going. Period.” And I knew at the time they had a realistic shot of going back the very next April. But I clearly wasn't seriously thinking that was going to happen. I mean, honestly, who gets a chance to redeem themselves the very next year with nearly the exact same team?
Fast forward to Phoenix.
UNC had been winning games in the tournament in very un-UNC fashion. They were ugly wins. But usually when you win a championship you have to win a game you should have lost. This is the part where I apologize to all the Arkansas fans I know. I don’t know what to say other than college basketball officiating is the worst of any sport in this country. I always tell my kids, “Even if the refs grab the mic and tell everyone in the building their mission is to make sure you don’t win, you never blame the refs. Losers make excuses. Winners make themselves better.” Having said that, I told my friend Casey that if he wanted to go on social media and blast the refs for that game, I would back up everything he said. It was horrible.
Again, having said that, it made me think that maybe this was UNC’s year. I mean, they were doing anything they had to do to win games. It’s like they actually fought, which is not something I’m used to. And they started locking people up on defense, which I’m not used to either. I’m used to games in the 80s or 90s, letting teams have a layup here or there just to coax them into running with us. And I like that brand of basketball. But I also like winning. I like toughness and determination and hustle. And UNC was doing it. They were doing what it took to win. First there was Arkansas, then if that Kentucky game goes into OT, I think UNC was done. But it didn’t. They found a way. And then they tried to give away the Oregon game and couldn’t. That’s when you start thinking the shirt I got in the mail and wore the day we played our first game in the tourney was working the same way the snow globes did in 2009. And if you don't know that story, it's a good one too.
So I felt good about going to Phoenix. I felt even better when I met Phil Ford. Yes, that Phil Ford. We also met Matt Doherty who was awesome and talked to Lily. It meant so much for me to see her meet some of the legends and really embrace the history of the team. Of course, she had already met Marcus Paige the year before, so I’m not sure she was star struck at that point. And so there we are, nip and tuck the whole way, both teams equally deserving to win this title. And all I could think is that I don’t want to have that talk again this year. I don’t want this to be a character-building experience. That’s what last year was for. I want to watch my team win a championship with my daughter. I want her to know what that’s like. So then it happened. I watched Isaiah hit that shot to put UNC up 3 and then Gonzaga calls a timeout. Game still isn’t over. There are like 21 seconds left, and a lot can happen in 21 seconds. Then the guy two rows in front of me is talking about fouling and I argued with him, “We can’t hit free throws. All we need is for them to hit two, foul us, we brick ours and then they have the ball with a chance to win. At least if they hit a three, we still have a chance to win or we go into OT with their big guy one foul from being out and their PG with a bum ankle.” He turned around and DID NOT high five me after the game. Hate it when I do that, but I was so nervous, and when I’m nervous I really hate people regurgitating studio coach, cookie cutter strategy. You have to know what’s going on right now. You have to know your team. You have to know how the game is flowing or not and make a decision not based on a chart, but on your gut. Anyway, I’m sorry. I’m getting distracted again.
So there we stand, in a sea of Carolina blue, with everyone on their feet. The teams walk back out and I am just praying for one stop. Just one more stop and I’ll never ask for anything ever again, or at least until next year’s game at Cameron. Everything felt like it was going in slow motion all night, and suddenly everything just came down to 21.6. Meeks had a block, Berry has the ball and Jackson is dunking the game clincher with just over 11 seconds left. Then Meeks is stealing a pass and Berry is getting fouled and that’s when it hit me: “Holy cow. We’re going to win the national championship.” I turned to Lily and we embraced. I slung her around like a rag doll screaming “Oh my gosh! Oh my gosh! We did it! We’re going to win!” like a moron. I admit I had not practiced for that moment. I don’t remember if I cried, but I felt like I would. The feeling was unreal and indescribable. I wanted that for her. I honestly did. And the fact that we’re both so passionate about something, which is more often than not a bad thing, made the experience truly a once in a lifetime. But I honestly don’t think it would have been as amazing if it hadn’t been for the heartbreak the year before. There were more lessons to be learned.
For example, when things don’t go your way, you work harder. You set a goal and you do anything to achieve that goal. People aren’t just going to say, “Oh you lost in such heartbreaking fashion last year. Why don’t we just give you the 2017 trophy as a consolation?” Nope. You have to work. How many teams get a second chance like that? It wasn’t luck. They worked for it. You want something? Work for it.
The other lesson was how to win with class. “My team winning is enough for me. People are going to accuse you of being on the bandwagon. So what. People are going to say the refs gave it to you. So what. People are going to say all sorts of things. So what. My team won. I have the t-shirt to prove it. That’s all that matters. There’s no need to rub anyone’s face in it. There is literally nothing to be gained from talking trash. My team won. It feels good. That’s what matters. Remember what it felt like last year? That’s what 67 other fanbases are feeling. Consider that and show some class.” I said something like that. It was pretty close anyway. So when we walked out that night, we saw Gonzaga fans and we felt their pain. So we walked out smiling but respectful. And haven’t stopped smiling since.
“Being gracious when you win or lose is what makes you a good fan. People don’t mind being around you and even root for you … even though they may not even like your team.” I told Lily this after seeing all her friends Snapchat and text her with positive messages. After the game, I saw my phone had blown up (in a good way). And while I’m thinking about it, I should probably mention that I turn my phone off during games. So I’m not purposely ignoring anyone who may be trying to reach me. This all goes back to Cary Clay and that dumb “one ring” thing we had going on years ago. One day I’ll have to write a post about that, because it is kind of funny, at least when it’s not you on the other end. But I’m getting off track again. What I was teaching Lily is that when you are a good fan, people respect you even though they may not like your team. And when people are rooting for you, that means a lot. I told her afterward that I would have felt terrible if the Heels had lost just knowing how many people were rooting for them on account of the two of us. We certainly have great friends and I want to thank everyone who texted or messaged me in any way. You’re awesome and I hope all your dreams come true (unless you’re a dook fan, sorry Lacy). I also want to thank everyone for enduring my fixation on "The ceiling is the roof." I would also like to apologize in advance because I will literally never stop saying it. It will be my battle cry for this year as long as I live. It's just funny. I love Jordan so much, but that is comedy gold y'all. Sorry. Got sidetracked again.
I get a lot of flack for how much I love sports, and I admit, it’s probably not good for my health. But sports presents opportunities to teach so many lessons that translate on so many levels. I think we may have learned them all in just one calendar year. I’ll probably stop being so obnoxious about this one day, but this is a first for me, because this one wasn’t about me. And that makes it so much sweeter. Feels a lot like redemption.
