(Now, I am going to let you in on something of a secret. Math Man is flawed. It's not his fault really. Poor thing was raised rooting for the evil empire. His dad went to Dook and now he's even there for grad school. So needless to say, watching basketball together isn't exactly an activity we participate in often.)
Now, I won't pretend to be the world's best basketball fan. Not that I'm fareweather, just that I never seem to do an adequate job keeping up with players and games. Last night, after a fun dinner catching up with my dear friend from study abroad in Chile H (after way way too long), I went over to the home of my fellow-Carolina-fans D & L. I'd missed the first half but was feeling optimistic. Dook was down at the half by 14 points. Amazing. We were beating the number 1 ACC team in the nation--and on their own turf.
D & L however knew what was up. They referred to the players by their names and screamed at the tv. And their enthusiasm was catching. If my almost 87 year old granny, can sit alone at home in VA, rooting for those Tarheel boys even when they're down, then certainly they're the team for me too. Surely, this would be their chance. We were going to beat those Dookies on their own turf.
But then. . . somehow in the second half Dook came from behind and scored 50 points. Our Tarheels just couldn't keep up. The evening ended with something of a deflated feeling. It was like victory had been ripped from our fingertips.