Annie's Log, 4/6/16
As many of you may have heard, the North Carolina Tar Heels lost in the NCAA men's basketball championship game against Villanova to a heartbreaking buzzer-beater shot by Kris Jenkins.
This shot was taken after Marcus Paige scored an equally (if not more) impressive three point shot from well behind the arc to tie the game with 4.7 seconds left.
Hopes were high after this classic Paige moment, and were dashed just seconds later.
But I don't want to talk about that.
Not because I'm bitter or anything. It was an incredible game, hard fought by both teams. I could complain about shotty officiating or wallow in "if only we'd made this shot/free throw/block." I'm not going to do that today.
No, I'd like to talk about another game from the tournament this season. A game that was actually probably more important to me, all things considered. A game that created one of the most stressful evenings of my entire life.
I am talking, of course, about the UNC-Syracuse Final Four game.
Let me regale you with the story of how I, a lone Tar heel living in Syracuse, New York, managed to survive a viewing of the UNC-Cuse Final Four Tournament game while completely surrounded by Orange.
First, let me set the scene:
A group of international students want to have the "real college experience" of watching their team play a big game at a bar manage. Now, at the last Syracuse tournament game, we walked to Fagan's, a slightly more "upscale" bar by Syracuse's campus (if a college bar can be classified as "upscale"). While walking, we passed this place called "Hungry Chuck's." Thirty minutes before the SU game was supposed to start, the line to Chuck's was at least 200 strong out the door. It was not a pretty sight.
Guess where everyone wanted to go to watch the Final Four game?
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| (Yes, that is the real logo) |
We arrived almost 2.5 hours before the game was supposed to start and
still ended up having to wait in line for about an hour and forty-five minutes.
Now, as I said in my previous log post, I was rooting for UNC.
In wanting to support my team, I chose to wear a subtle Carolina shirt: my navy Class of 2015 long-sleeved shirt, which has a small logo on the front and a large logo on the back, both of which can be easily hidden under a jacket.
I was feeling pretty proud of myself, wearing a subtle navy shirt which could be supporting either Syracuse (whose color is, as we know, Orange, but is often complemented with navy blue) or Carolina (which is also often complemented with navy).
When I saw what I will refer to from here on out as the "Horde of Orange" or "Hordange" (or probably just "Horde"), I began to regret my decision.
We waited in line at Chucks for over an hour and a half, and all the while I was surrounded by the enemy. I was disguised, and only those who knew me knew of the awful secret hiding just beneath my lapel. Needless to say, I was on edge.
It was cold, crowded, and loud. Entering the bar was ridiculously inefficient and excessively pricey. All the while, I had terrible images of what might happen if someone saw my shirt for what it truly was: a Carolina shirt.
Would a riot start? Where were the fire exits, in case I need to escape? Would I be thrown out?
My group found a spot in one corner where we could see the screens relatively well and the Horde settled in to watch the end of the painful Villanova-Oklahoma game (which Nova won by 44 points).
This is a picture I found online of Chuck's from the inside on a normal night:
This was my actual view:
I cannot even begin to describe to you what I felt when the first Final Four game ended and mine began. It was like trying to smuggle honey-covered salmon through a room full of grizzly bears, except I was
wearing the honey-covered salmon and I couldn't leave until the bears were done getting all worked up over the fight between the Grizzly Bears and the Lions and I think I'm getting off track here.
I felt like a spy, kind of, except that when spies are sent in, it's typically to gather information of some kind so that someone can benefit from it so they can then leave. No one was going to benefit from me sticking this game through except my pride, and that took a few blows.
Let me tell you, it is exceptionally strange to be the only person out of about 150 people who is on one side of something. Every time something good (to me) happened, everyone "booed" and every time something bad (to me) happened, everyone cheered. Meanwhile, I had to keep everything inside for fear of attracting too much attention to myself.
And let me tell you, when everyone started to "boo" Roy Williams, I was sorely tempted to do something ill-advised.
Anyway, once the game started, everyone's eyes were glued to the screens, including mine. I had to bite my tongue at every three point shot that someone nailed, or every dunk or rebound or turnover or steal or ridiculous foul or made free throw, regardless of who was doing it. I couldn't scoff when the Orange did something or cheer when the Heels did something in return.
I feel like I've mastered the art of the mime now that I've survived watching a huge sporting event without being allowed to make any noise.
Fortunately, the Tar Heels came out on top.
And I had the chance to celebrate, just a little, on the walk home.
(The caption says "Me with all the other Tar Heels in Cuse")
That's pretty much all there is to it. I survived, and then went on to have my heart broken about 48 hours later.
To finish this out, here are some of my tweets from that night:
End Log.
