For a North Carolina fan, this week has been unbearable – just thinking about the game on Saturday makes my stomach turn.
My resting heart rate when we played Baylor? 160. I’ll admit it was better when we played St. Peter’s, but Tar Heel Basketball is quite literally detrimental to people’s health (just surpassing UNC football).
I’m not even going to talk about my blood pressure at the last Duke game. While all my friends rushed Franklin Street in glee, climbed street signs and lit fires on the road, I toured graduate schools.
I watched UNC squeeze the joy out of Duke’s Senior Day from a bar in Pittsburgh with Will — one of my best friends. I tried to contain my excitement when Armando Bacot, assisted by Caleb Love, slammed in a statement dunk during the game's final minutes, knowing the chaos that was about to ensue in Chapel Hill.
Will then paid extra to play “Sweet Caroline” at the jukebox while Krzyzewski gave his dreary postgame speech.
As any student would, I don’t want to leave UNC without getting a chance to rush Franklin.
Listen: in what world, as a senior transfer student, do I arrive at UNC the year after a tournament win, miss the tournament altogether (hey, it doesn’t count if there wasn’t a tournament, right?) and then get to see a Final Four. To make matters worse, a Final Four against Duke?
Someone on Twitter compared it to living in "The Matrix". I think it’s worse.
Why, you may ask?