It was two years ago, in the spring of my sophomore year that I started writing for The Chronicle. I fell in love with sports writing that March and April as I spent my afternoons plopped on the hill at historic Jack Coombs Field covering baseball outings against all-world opponents such as Greensboro College and Campbell. It seemed natural-I loved sports and here was an opportunity to spend my time doing something productive (in the opinion of some) while fulfilling that love.
Then, just as my first semester at The Chronicle was wrapping up, I read something that at first shocked and then later disgusted me. Allison Creekmore, the sports editor at the time, wrote a senior column headlined, "Chronicle tempers love of men's basketball team." I was aghast.
I read on to discover that Allison felt that after three years of covering the Blue Devils as a journalist, she no longer felt like a fan. At games, she found herself charting runs in her mind instead of getting caught up in the frenzy of Cameron. She said that she couldn't even bring herself to cheer at games anymore, even though she had been a Duke basketball fan since sixth grade.
I thought to myself, "How could that ever happen?" My friends and I had spent our first two years at Duke obsessed with basketball, never missing a game, regardless of the level of competition. To me, games in Cameron were the best part of Duke.
Over the last two years, I've periodically thought about Allison's parting shot. I've thought about how it largely stems from the growing cynicism in sports reporting today. I've seen how as you move around a press room before a major sporting event, most of the conversations between the "professional" journalists sound largely pessimistic. I've seen Chronicle writers take those hard stands criticizing something the team does, stand which Allison wrote stripped her of her love for the team.
Now, as I sit on the edge of the abyss, ready to take on the real world, leaving behind that same world Allison did two years ago, I finally feel qualified to respond to what she wrote: I couldn't disagree more.
Losing that love you had as a fan is what's ruining sports reporting and writing today. Being a student journalist gave me incredible insights and opportunities I never would have had simply as a fan. I had the fortune of being sports editor for the last two years, a position that allowed me to take my following of the team to the next level. I watched a game in every Atlantic Coast Conference arena except Georgia Tech's. I dragged myself off the beach in Hawaii long enough to watch Duke win the Maui Invitational. I saw two ACC Tournaments, two trips to the NCAA tourney and a game in my hometown of St. Pete (not the best of memories). And I managed a private audience with Coach K for an hour last summer.
Did all of these things make me objective about Duke basketball? Did they temper my love for it? Not in the slightest. I leave this University with hundreds of great memories, many of the most dear of which are men's basketball games.
In fact, it's the whole ride that I recall most fondly. Freshman year: History in the Making is right. Every member of the class of 1998 would agree that sticking with the team through that year has made us appreciate the last two years more than anyone outside the locker room.
And of course, there was a signature game for each year. 1995-we're the last class to sit around and recant our story of Jeff Capel's miracle. Yeah, we lost the game, but that shot was un-f@!#ing-believable. 1996-Had to be the win over UCLA. Cameron had never rocked so much in my time at Duke. 1997-With a fond memory of Trajan's 34-point eruption against Clemson, it is of course the UNC win. Burn baby burn.
And finally, this year. Expectations soared, No. 1 rankings came and went, and wins seemed a foregone conclusion. But that last game on the home schedule loomed ominously. Since my freshman year, I had relished the fact that the last game I would ever see in Cameron as a student would be a UNC game. Now, I was terrified by that very fact. We wanted to go out as winners, but doing so would take a miracle.
So there I sat in the front row of my final home game, not in a tie, but in that stupid bandana I wore at every home game. I watched my team fall desperately far behind, only to begin storming back, I couldn't help but think, "This is the game I want more than any other. Final Fours and national championships be damned at this moment, I want to beat Carolina the last time I'm in Cameron" Wish Granted.
A month later in St. Petersburg, I questioned the sanity of my wish. Had Duke gone to the Final Four, my journalistic duties would have taken me to San Antonio to cover the biggest event in college sports. In my mind, I thought about how I had traded that away for a Cameron Crazy career-ending win over the Tar Heels. And I smiled.
My point is made, I believe, and as my good friend and esteemed colleague Jamal, known to The Chronicle-reading world simply as "X", would say, 'My muse has left me.' Those of you sticking around, just do me one favor: Don't let anything temper the love.
Michael King is an engineering senior and sports editor of The Chronicle. He, Jamal, Brad Klein, Alex Salem and Jason Armstrong were Wojo's original dog pound. He would like to thank Trajan for letting him steal the ball from him in a pick up game freshman year in Card.
Get The Chronicle straight to your inbox
Signup for our weekly newsletter. Cancel at any time.