By middle school, we already had clearly drawn lines. And on this weekend each year, we’d arrive at school in red, two shades of blue, or, for a very few of us, gold and black. These were the battle colors we claimed for ourselves, not of gangs but of area universities: NC State, Carolina, Duke and Wake Forest.
I grew up in a place and time when college basketball took a backseat to nothing, including school. Teachers and students alike eagerly watched those afternoon games.
Friday afternoon of the ACC tournament was a sacred rite of the classroom. We set aside our Bible belt learning of “Love thy neighbor” in exchange for a few days of (mostly) good-natured rivalry. Continue reading