Reporting From ... Davidson vs. Duke

What happens when a Tar Heel fan who went to Davidson goes inside college hoops' Terror Dome?

Anna Clemmons

The most famous address in Durham, NC.

When you grow up a Tar Heel fan in Chapel Hill, you are taught to hate all things Duke. When I was applying to college, my father informed me that the university 12 miles away wasn't an option. Anywhere else is fine, but if you choose to go to Duke, you're on your own, he told me. Fortunately, I chose Davidson (though, for the record, I had two cousins and an aunt who attended Duke).

Is Duke a poor choice academically? No. That rage is rooted in basketball, pure and simple. Players like Christian Laettner, Bobby Hurley and Wojo ignite a Carolina fan's gag reflex when their names are even mentioned.

So when my parents' Chapel Hill neighbor, a good friend and Duke season-ticket holder of the last 30 years, offered to take me to the Duke vs. Davidson game at Cameron Indoor, I hesitated. Could I really travel to the home of the Tar Heel's most hated rival? Well, yes, particularly in a year when Davidson boasts the nation's top shooter. I was instructed to be on my "best behavior" since this was a kind gesture by our neighbor and I'd be sitting among Duke fans.

En route to Cameron on a rainy, 46-degree night, we walked by the 70 or so tents already set up in Kzyewskiville. Cameron looks and feels like a high school gym and its student body inhabitants sound like a crop of ADD kids who forgot their Ritalin during recess. Their energy never quits.

Once we got to our seats and I took off my coat to reveal my Davidson t-shirt, the heckling began. (Remember: this wasn't the student section.) To our left was the former mayor of Durham and his wife (who was very sweet). He might look like he's pushing 75, but he still asked me why Davidson needed four captains as opposed to Duke's three and how much I'd paid for my seat because I couldn't have been allowed in for free. I knew it was going to be a long night.

My neighbor to the right was the perfect example of why Tar Heels dislike (most) Duke fans. He looked close to 55 years old, but still participated in the chants and gestures as though he were in the student section. He'd throw a jazz hand forward during Davidson in-bounds passes, stand and hold his arms overhead during a free throw, and yell "LET'S GO DUKE!" when the students started up. (Should be noted he was a little behind the majority of others chanting.) When Duke would go on a run, he'd stand and scream: "NOW WE'RE GONNA SHOW YOU WHAT WE'RE REALLY MADE OF!"

Anna Clemmons

Those red shirts are brave (and blurry) Davidson fans among the Crazies.

The heckling ("Where's Curry tonight?" "Can anyone else on this team shoot?") came from both sides—literally. After Singler nailed a three, my right-side neighbor reached over and slapped my thigh. "Did you see that shot?" He paused. "That's a Laettner shot. The kid is gonna be the next Laettner." He paused again, looking at my host. "I bet she doesn't even know who Laettner is."

(Side note: two of the main Curry-related signs at the game were "Curry's Mom Has Got It Goin' On!" and "Curry: Caution, Children at Play.")

I realized I was literally the only fan in Davidson gear. It looked like there were about 200 in the crowd but in section seven, I had no allies. Eight brave Davidson fans stood in the Duke student section and one held up a poster before tip-off that read, "If you can't go to college, go to Duke."

I never saw her raise it again.

As Davidson slipped into a larger deficit in the second half, it was surprisingly quiet. I'd brought my camera and after a great Scheyer basket, the former mayor asked me if I'd gotten that on camera. When I shook my head, he replied: "Don't worry. I'm sure we'll see it again."

But Curry began a hot streak and when Davidson cut it to an 8-point deficit, thunderous Cameron rose to its feet. The students seemed a little nervous and raised the volume to where I thought the shaking ground might give way. Then Curry misfired from behind the arc and Duke was fouled on their next possession. Saying our goodbyes afterward (a nod for the man on my right, a smile and handshake to the left), a nearby anonymous fan told me I'd "been a good sport."

Exciting with my neighbor, we crossed the path of two fans in Davidson t-shirts asking for directions to the Washington Duke Inn. "You're going the wrong way. It's that way," said a Duke fan, pointing South. The twosome thanked him and walked off. "You should've told them the other way," commented another Duke fan as everyone around us erupted into laughter.

Some things—and fans—will never change. My father will be happy to hear it.

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