The loneliest fan

A few lucky devils watched it all unfold firsthand in Indianapolis. Many of my friends crowded Cameron, separated from the action by 600 miles that probably felt like 6,000.

I actually was half a world away.

I had a lovely column in mind for this week. I planned to regale you all with stories from the 10 days I spent in the Italian Riviera: hiking in high heels, catching an overnight train in lieu of booking a hostel, dipping my toes in the Mediterranean Sea.

I was voted Most Optimistic in high school, but it’s hard to sugarcoat this one. When the buzzer sounded and the shot mercifully clanked off the rim, I was sound asleep in my bed. The game started after 3 a.m. in Madrid, and I couldn’t manage to download a live stream on my faltering laptop.

When I read the news the next morning, I was elated. But with nary a bonfire to stoke my excitement, I also felt like one of the loneliest girls in the world. The outcome of the game has rocked Duke, but I am sad to report that the rest of the world is still rotating on its axis. (I promise not to turn this column into 16 inches of self-pity—that’s really not my style.)

I used to be one of them—I wrote an admissions essay about the Cameron Crazies. I gushed that although I had never set foot on campus, watching Duke basketball games on television had taught me a lot about the student body. Watching freshly-painted students bob to and fro in a packed Cameron, I imagined that their passion for basketball must spill over to all aspects of campus life.  

The observation wasn’t as original as it felt at the time, but there was some truth to it. Basketball is all-important at Duke, a barometer with which we assess our time as students. Each class is entitled to a trip to the Final Four, or at least victory over Carolina at home. Last year’s graduates were wronged.

Although the mini-title drought was already underway when I arrived on campus as a freshman, I knew it was the perfect climate for me to be a Duke fan. I started to root for Duke when I realized that ex-Blue Devils filled the roster of my favorite team, the Clippers. (Yes, the Clippers, widely considered to be the worst franchise in professional sports.) It’s hard for an underdog loyalist like me to justify matriculating at Duke, but if there was ever a moment, this was it, I reasoned. A vintage powerhouse struggling to live up to its rankings in the polls: this was a David I could support.

Yet there were times when even I lost faith. I can’t help but wonder if I was the only one. The second story I wrote for The Chronicle as a freshman was about an ill-fated validation system that Duke Student Government proposed in an attempt to prop up sagging attendance—not exactly compatible with the packed student section we had been promised.

I almost shelled out the big bucks for a shirt when we won the ACC tournament last year because I feared it was the closest I would come to being able to sport clothing with the words “Duke” and “champions” while still on campus.

I suspect these and other small disappointments are part of what compels so many juniors to leave Duke so far behind, though most do a better job of timing their trips with the climax of the season.

Duke is wonderful—this we rarely take for granted. But not every year can be a banner year. And, I reasoned wistfully when I submitted my study abroad application last Fall, this year didn’t seem to have the makings of one.  

Juniors often gauge the quality of a day abroad by smugly imagining what they would be doing if they were back at Duke. I couldn’t bring myself to make the comparison Monday night.

Yet though I have probably forsaken the best Spring in a decade to be at Duke, I wouldn’t change the way things have unfolded. My time abroad has been a wonderful ride, and even this bittersweet twist has served a purpose: I know I’ll never again hedge a bet against Duke.  

And I feel it in my bones that we’ll find a little bit of magic next Spring, too.

Julia Love is a Trinity junior. Her column runs every other Wednesday.