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Two weeks ago in this space, I made the case that the performance of Duke’s basketball team has historically declined as the ACC season progressed. Like a good scientist, I declined to speculate in print about the causes behind that decline.
After Duke beat UNC last week, I got an e-mail from one of my friends containing his thoughts from the game. Included was this comment: “Scheyer, Smith and Singler playing 40, 39 and 40 minutes. Sure it was UNC on the road, but this is a trend and they will break down.”
I give up.
If you ever watch ESPN, read the newspaper or talk to a college basketball fan, you already know the official word on the Duke basketball team: It’s capable of beating any team in the country as long as the players are hitting their shots. Of course, the natural corollary is that it’s near impossible for any team to hit its shots for six straight games to win the NCAA Tournament.
My girlfriend is a UNC alumna, and she is not what you would call a huge basketball fan. Sure, she was on Franklin Street after the Tar Heels won each of their national championships. And yeah, she did love Sean May. But she certainly could not pick the Wear twins out of a crowd, and when we recently saw Marcus Ginyard at a restaurant, the best she could do was, “Hey, that guy plays for Carolina!”
There’s an old story that goes like this.
For the first time since I got here seven years ago, I actually feel guilty writing about basketball during football season. But not so guilty that I won’t do it.
Before I write a column suggesting a radical change to an integral part of Duke’s sports-related culture, I ask myself an important question: Would a 17-year-old version of me still have chosen Duke if this change had happened before I applied? If yes, I write the column. If no, I don’t. Pretty simple.
As of this morning, we're less than three weeks away from the start of college football season. Nationally, this means we're three weeks away from Alabama vs. Virginia Tech, Georgia vs. Oklahoma State and Florida girls vs. Tim Tebow's virginity.
As both a graduate student and an alumnus of this fine university, I like to pretend that I'm above the filthy, teeming masses.
I've lied to you all, and I'm sorry.
To me, it makes sense that I should write the obituary of Greg Paulus's career as a Duke student-athlete on the back page of this newspaper rather than the sports page. Because when it came to the now-former Duke point guard, I always cared more about what he was like off the court than on it.
Everyone loves the NCAA Tournament.
The first case I followed at the VA was a challenging one.
If you're reading this column, it's Thursday. The Duke-Carolina game happened last night.
In a little bit more than three weeks on general medicine at the VA, I've come up with a quantitative system for determining how pitiful an old person looks.
Since I started this year, I have stuck dozens of needles into dozens of my patients. I have torn tape off skin so tender that my patients cried despite being loaded up on painkillers. I have used a vacuum-powered sponge to rip dead tissue out of my patients' open wounds.
There are a lot of things that medical students get to see and do that regular people don't.
The other day, I was in class with about a dozen other second-year med schoolers.
Being a med student is like being the third man in a three-urinal public bathroom when the two bookends are taken and only the middle one is free.
