TO THE EDITOR:
Ms. Pindic, I agree that the word hate is thrown around a lot these days. But I think you need to check the definition of the word: a feeling of intense or passionate dislike. That being said, I hate Duke. Make no mistake: it’s not jealousy, it’s not envy, it’s not bitterness. It’s pure hatred. Why, you ask?
Aside from the 92 years of whining, cheap shots and general douchebaggery, let’s turn to Wednesday night. As that buzzer sounded and Rivers found the bottom of the net, the ensuing celebration brought my hatred to a whole new level. Immediately the benches cleared and the entire team dogpiled right in front of the risers, as if they’d just won the national championship.
But that’s not all. When the court cleared and I stood in stunned silence in the risers, I then was treated to Duke Athletic Trainer Jose Fonseca screaming obscenities a foot away from my face. Nice. What are you, 40 years old?
But wait, there’s more. After Austin Rivers did his post-game interview, he ran into our tunnel and saluted our fans.
It’s the arrogance. It’s the elitist mindset. It’s the floor slapping. It’s the flopping. It’s just Duke. And as my fellow Tar Heel, if you don’t hate Duke, I hate you.
Jack Frost ’13
Business
