xtcian

we feast tonight

2/8/05

Say you don't like sports. Lots of people don't. In any given contest, they don't really care who wins one way or another, I know some of these people, and some of them even went to UNC. They look upon these sporting events as curiosities because they don't need it like the rest of us do. They has evolved past the point where a sport can fulfill the instinctual desire for tribalism and a lust for hunting; we, however, have not.

If you think about it, basketball is hardly different from hunting. There is a goal, there is a pack of five young men dressed in the same garb trying to get at it, they must make decisions based on .7 seconds into the immediate future, and the swish of a basket is exactly as satisfying as the first bite of steak. Or does that not appeal?

Say you don't like sports. Say you got stuck at a Carolina-Duke game in 1974, when neither team was battling for first place in the conference. Say there was 17 seconds left, and UNC was down eight points, and you wanted to head for the exit, 'cuz this one was over.

Let's say this happened: North Carolina's Bobby Jones sinks two foul shots to cut the lead to six. Then John Kuester steals the inbounds ball and scores a layup to make it four. Jones steals another inbounds and the lead is two. The next play, North Carolina fouls Duke, who misses the free throw.

UNC is now on the opposite side of the court from their basket. Somehow, the ball ends up in the hands of Walter Davis – nicknamed "Sweet D" by Carolina fans – who dribbles it up to about half-court, and heaves a 35-foot shot. Let's say it banked in, because that's exactly what happened.

Folks who were at the game (at least 20,000 claim to have been there, even though Carmichael seats about 5,000) describe the pandemonium that erupted as one of the loudest burst of human voices in sports history. UNC went on to win the game in overtime, making an immediate legend out of Walter Davis, and cementing coach Dean Smith's voodoo. From then on, a Carolina game under Smith was never over until it was truly over.

The question is this: would Carolina have been able to pull off a game like 1974 against any other opponent? Could there be something else at work here, an edge given to players on both sides, an emotional charge that allows for the mathematical impossibility of actually giving 110 percent?

Could it be the silent rush of adrenaline that rescue-workers experience in times of trauma, the fight-or-flight hormones that kick in when one's livelihood is at stake, the perfect marriage of athletic alacrity and psychological intensity, forged together in an alchemy that produces the purest of all sport contests?

Say you don't like sports. You wouldn't be interested in any of this. In a way, I feel a little sad for you, because this much hunger, this much longing for brotherhood, this much hatred of your rival tribe reminds lesser-evolved folks like us that we are still quite alive.