Whether he's physically present at games or not, he screams as if he were. Each time Carolina scores, you can hear him shouting with glee at the television screen. And the Carolina fan will be sure to let you know when UNC wins as he runs up and down the hall, screaming in victory at the top of his lungs. That's dedication.
Sometimes, especially after big games, he rushes to the bathroom to steal rolls of toilet paper. On his way to Franklin Street, he decorates trees with streams of the stuff, totally disregarding its more practical use. That's dedication.
Once he reaches Franklin Street, he might climb a tree in addition to decorating it. From up in the branches, he shouts down at the crowd, shakes the limbs to and fro, and even bangs on his chest from time to time. Again, dedication.
After winning really big games, the Carolina fan burns offerings to the Doherty god in the middle of Franklin Street. He dances around the fire, bravely leaping over the flames. There's an image in the smoke that speaks to the Carolina fan ... "Child, the cars on the street are a sign of nonbelievers. DESTROY! Destroy the cars so that the righteous children of Carolina shall rightfully take back their street."
And of course the Carolina fan listens. Ah, dedication.
Now meet a fellow we'll call "Shorty." He's a student -- much like the Carolina fan. He comes from Burnsville, which used to be my hometown in the mountains. But the Burnsville-ites kicked my ass out, citing me as "different." I like to think of my exile as liberation.
Anyway, back to Shorty. You see, he got a little mad at me last semester when I poked some satirical fun at Burnsville in a column. Shorty's very proud of his redneck heritage and found the piece distasteful. He sent me a few insulting messages telling me just how ignorant and arrogant I am.
So this semester, I made a joke about tiny Burnsville-ites having to overcompensate for being so small. The joke could have been taken as a diss on folks from my old hometown for being so backwards and small-minded. Shorty, however, took the joke as a direct diss on his less-than-average height.
As a result, Shorty called me up that night. He screamed, "I might be small, but I could still take you." And he promised that he was going to beat my ass, etc., blah blah blah.