Tarheel Born

" I'm a Tar Heel born I'm a Tar Heel bred
And when I die I'm a Tar Heel dead.
So it's RAH, RAH, Car'lina 'lina
RAH, RAH, Car'lina 'lina
RAH, RAH, Car'lina
RAH! RAH! RAH!"

You may know that you are an avidly crazy sports fan (see Boston Redsox fans, pictured left). You may be certain you support a team that has an intense rivalry with scum (see the Everton slam against Roooney joining Man Utd., pictured right).












But those of you not living here in the U.S. South watching Atlantic Coast Conference basketball will probably never understand its importance to the warp and weave of the entire culture here. What is the ACC? It is simply the best of the best of college b-ball.

Professional baseball, football, hockey, hell, even NBA teams, can't hold a candle to our interest in this amateur sport.

The Carolina Panthers were in the SuperBowl in 2004; we were mildly excited (they lost). The Carolina Hurricanes won the Stanley Cup last year; good job guys (we had a half-assed local parade). The Charlotte Bobcats .... well, never mind about them (they suck). The Durham Bulls even had a hugely successful Hollywood movie made based on their club, and they're lucky to get 7,000 fans to turn up for a title game.

But when the ACC Tournament season begins on the 8th, employees from seven states around will be calling in sick and kids will be missing school, if the schools haven't provided TV sets on which to watch the games (it happens on Tobacco Road).

The intense rivalries of the teams permeates everything here and woe betide a foreigner (or worse, some kind of Yankee) moving down here who just doesn't get it. You better pick a team quick, buddy, and stick with them until the bitter end. You can't sit on our white picket fences in this case, there's no middle ground here.

You might think that most supporters would be alumni of a particular school, but that's not the case. There are generations of fans who have never sent a single family member to higher education, yet metaphorically live and die with their team. And which team you root for can get you a job interview or cost you one, get you out of a fist-fight or quickly into one.

We are immensely proud of our collegiate system, which has provided the most top draft picks in the NBA since drafts started, and currently has placed players in 25 of the 29 NBA teams. We are the birthing place of Michael Jordon, the frickin' god of basketball. Enough said.

If you are born and bred here, you will already be assigned a team by your kith and kin. Sure, you can be a rebel and go against them, but that way lies madness, chaos and bitter family reunions. I can't ever remember NOT watching the University of North Carolina play basketball.

I stayed out of school (with my dad) in 1982 to see Michael Jordan make the miraculous Hail Mary basket against Georgetown that won the NCAA title. When I lived in the UK, my lovely parents sent me VHS tapes of games in '93 so I could see the Tarheels wipe up Michigan State for yet another Championship. You can see it was a forgone conclusion that I was going to UNC-Chapel Hill to get my degree. Go HEELS!

"So why is ACC basketball different from any other sports? I am a rabid fan of Team 'X', who are the best, what makes you lot so special?", I hear you asking. And what a valid question, well done!

In my opinion, the ACC is unique in that support from fans cuts through all social classes. For example, in the UK (generally speaking) football is considered "working class", cricket is for the "toffs" and rugby is for the "Welsh". In other countries (and most U.S. cities), one sport rules all, like Canadian ice hockey, Japanese baseball, or Brazilian football. You don't really have a choice; if you want to be a winner, you support your team.

Around here, we look down on other sports, of which there plenty, EVEN WHEN WE ARE GOOD AT THEM. They just ain't OUR boys, dadgummit. I'm not sure that happens anywhere else.

P.S.
Go to hell DUKE. Why did you have to beat up on my boy Tyler? If I was his mama, I would have rushed the court and wailed on Coach K's skinny rat-like butt until he squeaked.