I’ve spent every day of my life not caring about basketball. I came to UNC to foster my intellectual curiosity through rigorous classes, to grow by exposing myself to new perspectives and to get a free New York Times Games subscription to play Connections daily.
Besides, the college sports industry exists solely to create arbitrary divisions between people based on whatever institution they happen to pay thousands of dollars to attend. Anyone who cares about it is just a victim of an artificially manufactured rivalry with the single-minded goal of extracting as much money from fans through ticket sales, merch and $7 bottles of water.
Fans follow their chosen institution like herds of mindless sheep, and I’m happy to report that I'm immune to Rameses’ propaganda.
All week, the centuries-old question, “Who's the better blue?” hung like a plague over campus. Everyone, from students to professors to the pit preachers, was talking about the big game — the ultimate showdown between UNC and Duke, Carolina Blue and Duke blue, good and evil.
“I got phase one tickets, of course I’m skipping my sister’s wedding!”
“I’ll give you my ticket if you pay my tuition.”
“Do you think a 3-gallon borg is enough?”
Even though I didn’t see what all the hubbub was about, it was clear to me that the game was a veritable who’s who of the Chapel Hill community. To not go was to cast yourself as a loser — or, worse, a Duke fan. It was nonnegotiable: I had to get into that arena.
Unfortunately, it’s statistically impossible for first-years to win tickets in the student lottery (trust me, I took STOR 155).