I agree with EarlJam. These Duke stories need to be printed into a book. We have some of the most passionate fans in America.
While watching our game against VCU this past March, I was sitting with my Dad in a sports bar, decked out in True Blue and wearing my favorite white Blue Devil hat. Big mistake. The whole entire game, I was heckled like Mr. Buckner at an October festival in the Northeast. I mean, I was getting it handed to me. There was this one guy in particular, sitting quietly by himself in a corner booth drinking a beer, who kept giving me smiles and going out of his way to make sure that I saw him celebrating every time VCU scored. He was just eating the moment up. So, needless to say, when we took a late nine point lead, I made sure he heard about it. I was acting like a fool, I'm not going to lie. My Dad is a moderate Duke fan, but he was getting really uneasy with how big a scene I was making. At one point, after we drilled a three, I stood up and stared the evil corner booth man down with a Reggie Miller style three-point signal while bowing, leaving him with the classic Miller Time glare. By the way, I am pushing my mid-20s. It felt unbelievable though
. The pride I was feeling at that point was beyond explanation. We were Duke.
Then came the ending. When those final, bitterly cold seconds ticked off the clock, ending our season in the first round, the entire bar clapped as I exited the building with tears in my eyes (my Dad had left ten minutes before, believing that I wouldn't know how to handle my emotions if we lost.) He was right. I wanted to knock every single table over as I left, but there was no emotion, no energy to exert that anger. I truly was as depressed as you can be. I walked out to the car, and just leaned up against its side, pondering what I was going to do the rest of my March. This was supposed to be my time of the year, my month, my time to support the hell out of Duke, to watch and record all of their games. And it was all over, in the blink of an eye. I cried myself to sleep that night. My Dad, and most others that know me, can't understand why I literally make myself sick after Duke losses, epsecially in the Tournament. But Duke is a part of me. That's why.
My obsession of Blue Devil Basketball, although sometimes severely misguided and to the point of ridiculousness, will always be there. I love Duke. I will always love Duke. It's something I hold close to me. It's more than just a game and some sports team to me; it's a stress reliever (although that can be seen as a contradicting comment during Carolina and NCAA games
), something I carry great pride in following, a hobby, an almost family-like experience. The first time I set foot in Cameron, I knew I was home.
Like Red Sox fans feel in Boston, nothing compares to the feeling Duke Blue sends down my veins. Anyone ever seen "Still, We Believe," the Red Sox fan documentary? That's exactly how I feel.
TRUE BLUE BELIEVER SINCE BIRTH