(*an article I previously wrote for the Fuqua Times*)
To say my family is sports mad would be an understatement. Sports was not an indulgence. It was a way of life. We, my brother and I, learnt to swim before we could spell and shot hoops at 7am in the mornings during summer holidays while all other kids got to sleep an extra hour. So, yes, we felt deeply about our sports.
Naturally, our television was dominated by sports. My fondest family memories, in fact, were watching important games with my brother and Dad. I’ve watched every world cup football final with them since 1987. I still remember watching my brother jump with joy when France beat Brazil in 1998. My dad was bitter because Brazil was his team. And I watched dispassionately. That was the problem for me. I never really felt for any team. I supported the teams that my brother and dad supported because it seemed incongruous not to do so. So while my brother moped for days when his team lost, I never quite reached the depths of despair like he did. Oddly enough I envied him. I envied him for the connection that he had with his team. For finding that deep, inexplicable bond that ties an individual to a team, regardless of swings in fortunes. I, of course, did not have such a connection with any team till I discovered Duke basketball.
I’m embarrassed to admit this, but I honestly knew nothing about Duke Basketball till my Student Visa Interview in May of last year. I remember prepping for the interview for all possible questions the consulate could ask me – Why MBA, What plans after? etc. So imagine my surprise when the first question I was asked was “Are you a Basketball fan?” Stumped, I mumbled something about vaguely following the Chicago Bulls. The consulate officer then proceeded to educate me on Duke and its history with Basketball. Even after school began, it wasn’t until campout that I got a sense of how important Basketball was to the heritage of the school. On campout Sunday, after spending over 36 hours sleep deprived, hung over, without having won a ticket and facing an impending Stats quiz, I vowed to watch at least one basketball game at Cameron.
My first game at Cameron happened due to an impulse decision. A friend and I decided to “walk up” to the Long Beach State game on December 29. We stood in line, amidst freezing conditions (hey, I’m Indian, if it isn’t sunny it’s ALWAYS freezing for me) and hoped to make it into Cameron. We were allowed in after waiting for an hour and I still remember the moment I first entered the arena. The atmosphere inside was pulsating to say the least. Within moments I got up to speed with all the cheers and was ready to harass any opposition team as a true Cameron Crazie would. I fell in love with Basketball during that game. The fast pace and frenetic energy made it a keeper in my books. But most of all, it was the team – watching them execute strategic maneuvers was like watching sublime poetry in motion. I was hooked to say the least.
I made it a point from then on to follow every game. I was a Cameron Crazie even when I watched the game on TV. I held my hand up when free throws were attempted and yelled “whoosh” if it went in. If Brian Zoubeck made a save, I would twist my fingers in to a “Z”, even if I was watching the game at the airport (NCAA – Duke Vs Cal). When we lost to Georgetown, I was miffed for days. When I met Duke Haters (of which there are plenty – even as far flung as Leuven, Belgium) I defended our team to the core. That’s when I realized that I had begun to care. That’s when I realized what my brother, a true fan went through – to stick by your team, to stay loyal despite the whims and fancies of fortuna.
During the NCAA final with 13 secs to go, when Butler had the possession and it looked like they would sneak past our score, I remember my heart sinking. I remember telling myself that I would celebrate our team even if we lost and would be an even fiercer fan the coming year. We won that game and I wept tears of joy. It was surreal to say the least. I called up the older sibling, who had no idea about what the NCAA meant, but understood the sentiment perfectly. That’s when I realized I had finally found MY team, my connection. To paraphrase Lord Tennyson a bit here, teams may come and teams may go, but I’m a Crazie Forever!!
