So I guess we've all heard the saying, "When it rains, it pours."
I didn't have a single homework assignment for the first 3 weeks of the semester, but when I received my first.. the others started pouring in. I haven't gotten upset enough to cry in months, but I got in a tizzy with my best friend on Thursday night, then I fought with my sister/mother/father in Miami this weekend over the most insignificant and, on my part, selfish things. For that I'm sorry, I guess - when it rains it pours. So now as I piece together anything and all that I may have destroyed with my negative releasing of all the stress I have between school, friends, family, and job, I find myself wishing I was back on the beach between the shade of the palms, sipping a banana daquiri, and daydreaming about Carolina Basketball.
But I'm not there, I'm in my little bedroom off Bear Bryant Drive in Tuscaloosa, Alabama with the blinds slightly cracked watching it rain. Or for better choice of words - pour.
After 48 hours of tanning on the beach in 85 degree weather and stuffing my face (which has been deprived of any sort of good, South Florida cuisine since the summer months) with Cuban food, tropical drinks, and Valentine's Day candy, Sunday night snuck up on us and we clothed ourselves in Carolina blue and headed for the BankUnited Center (which, in all honesty, looks like someone projectile vommitted the grossly colors of green and orange all over the place).
The first thing I did was run down to the front row and watch the players walk in and out of the locker room and begin warm-ups. At this point in the night, I still was very hell-bent and determined that I would have Tyler Hansbrough fall in love with me. But who caught my eye the very most was Marcus Ginyard and his unselfish demeanor toward the young kids (yes, when I say I was on the front row 'oohing and aahing' over the players, I was the only one over the age of 11). His maturity and graciousness would later be witnessed outside the team bus after the victory, while "my love" acted like a college-aged, egotistical, white-kid version of Kobe Bryant and his stuck-up ways.
The game was close, thrilling, and sometimes frustrating, but in the end it was a perfect reassurance that with the athleticness of point guard Ty Lawson, and the finesse of Wayne Ellington, along with the spasticness of Tyler Hansbrough that can draw a foul in most situations - Carolina will be a sure favorite to take it all the way when March begins to get "Mad."
Frustrating, I said, right? Try being surrounded by not only the puke resembling colors, and the fans who scream (which only my father could completely express to you, in his very well grasped imitation of the Miami accent): 'Der a 'Cane ova he-ya! Whoo! Whoo!, but also frustrating was that little #33 Jack McClinton who seemed to be the black-kid version of every Duke kid that Coach K's ever recruited that seemed to never miss a damn shot from outside the arc.
As the four Latin-American Miami fans behind me would have put it (as they did all night and again, add the accent): "Ah, dude! He's makin' it rain! Look, Jose, 'dat Jack McClinton is makin' it rain! All night dude!"
When Jack rains, he pours.
You know who else has been, "making it rain?" The ACC Player of the week Ty Lawson. From his utterly outstanding performance against Duke on Wednesday to the 21 points he put up against Miami on Sunday (17 of which came in the second half and 3 of which were those that sealed the road-win.) Reported in the Chapel Hill newspaper was that 15 NBA Scouts were in the attendance at the BankUnited Center on Sunday night. Well, I'm assuming all eyes were on #5 in blue and #33 in well, whatever you call that mess of colors. When it rains, it pours for those two.
Oh wait, is THAT why you were so anti-social after the game Tyler?? Or are you really just that big of a diva??
So, after the game my family and I portrayed the roles of amateur stalkers and followed the parade of Tar Heel players' families to the bus location. I made eye contact with Mr. Hansbrough and his girlfriend. My sister was in the bathroom stall next to Mrs. Frasor, Bobby's mother. And my brother-in-law was excited by the fact that Patrick Moody, the last guy on the bench, touched his back in an effort to get through the crowd and on the other side of the metal railing that separated us fans, aka stalkers, from the players. Tyler Hansbrough, however, acted as if the Great Wall of China was separating us and that even looking our way would be a useless effort or just too much of an effort to even participate. There was 45 Carolina fans standing there in the middle of Coral Gables, Florida wanting to see the appreciation from the National Player of the Year, but none was given. And to you, Mr. Tyler-Hansbrough-Mr. Almighty, I do not appreciate that!
Coach, however, was delightful to be around! After I screamed "Coach, take a picture with a fellow Asheville native!" this is how the scenario played out...
Roy Williams looks me up and down, confused. "YOU'RE from Asheville?!?!?!" (I think it was because I looked like an Alabama sorority girl, tan, in an oxford shirt and glasses instead of a hippy dress and scarf wrapped around my head, smelling of hemp.) "What school did you go to?"....
"Well I moved before I went to school there, Coach, I go to The University of Alabama now, but I'm a Tar Heel."
....(not as confused anymore he nodded and told my mom to take the picture)
"Hey, make sure you got that picture, my eyes may have been closed." (Proceeds to wait and make sure he doesn't need to take a re-do.)
Helluva-nice-guy!
I got my picture with Roy. After the bus pulled away, I got my eye contact with Tyler (TWICE!!). (Ashley later explained he probably only looked twice because not one - but TWO - of my buttons in my sorority girl-clas oxford was unbuttoned.. revealing more than I was aware of).
But, I lost a little bit of of that little-girl perception I have of Tar Heel super-stars. Jerry Stackhouse waved to me as he pumped gas on Franklin Street when I was 12 years old and waiting for my sister to get out of soccer camp. Vince Carter talked to my cousin Amy and I in the Chapel Hill mall after he had been drafted to the NBA and left a legacy at UNC. Bill Guthridge, Antawn Jamison, Vince Carter, Shammod Williams, and all the others of the 1996-1997 team signed autographs for me and my sister at The Adam's Mark Hotel in Daytona Beach after Vince Carter's 'homecoming game' against Bethune Cookman. THEY were Player of the Year too(Jamison), THEY were All-Americans too, THEY were destined to become NBA Greats (Carter, Rookie of the Year). Roy's won a National Championship Tyler, you haven't, and he signed autographs and took pictures - and even cared to stick around to make sure the picture came out right. So what was YOUR problem, Psycho-T?
Well, here's MY problem.... you might be too damn tired (I don't know though, 8 points and 5 rebounds??) or you might be pissed off (15 NBA Scouts, and well, 8 points and 5 rebounds...) but you're an idol to kids (and a 21 year-old psychotically obsessed since before I can remember girl's) so at least nod your head, say thank you to the fans that came from anywhere and everywhere to see you play, and bring yourself down to earth for the next two months - I BEG YOU! Because it ain't over until April 6th at Ford Field in Detroit, Michigan. And, coming from on heck of a Carolina fan - cocky-asses don't deserve to cut down the net, and ego's hurt really bad when some mid-major (remember George Mason?) knocks you out of the tournament, and they hurt really, really bad when you get to the Final Four and your high and mighty attitudes lose a game for you because the other team came to play and you thought you'd coast into the National Championship game (remember Kansas last year??)
I've vented, I've ranted. I DO still admire #50 and I hope I only caught him exiting the arena and getting on the bus on a bad night and that he doesn't do that every time. Because who knows if I'd still be a fan of the Tar Heels as much as I am if Vince Carter, Jerry Stackhouse, and Antawn Jamison weren't so self-less and humble when I was a little girl. My fanhood is far past the wins, the championships, and the jersey's in the rafters. I have high respect for the tradition, the class, and the respect Carolina has earned. That's the reason I fell in love with Alabama - being a part of the tradition and the football program's high demand for class and appreciation for the fans. Sure, there's some egotistical pricks in Crimson jersey's... and I don't like them now, and if I was a 10 year-old shouting for the superstars to sign an autograph and they walked by me as if I didn't exist I wouldn't like them then or now.
Moral of the story: When it rains, it pours. Whether you get swamped with homework and disputes between friends and family all at once, or you hit a 3-point shot and rarely miss another the entire night. Whether you merely take 5 seconds for a picture with an obsessive fan and her respect and admiration for you pours down like a God-sent rainstorm for the rest of her life, or you exit stadium, drop bag at bus-drivers feet for him to tend to, and enter bus as if you were a machine and without making any sort of gesture to the crowd of fans who stand to their feet in ovation for you when they are lucky enough to get to say "I saw Tyler Hansbrough play basketball at UNC" the way people talk about the many you succeed on the Dean Dome hardwood, you should always remember: When it rains, it pours. (sometimes there's a rainbow after the rain, and sometimes there's just a puddle).
As I close, I have one hope. After I witnessed the looks of excitement on those kids' faces when Will Graves, Mike Copeland, and Marcus Ginyard signed autographs with smiles on their own faces, and the kids' shock and dissappointment when college basketball's 'king' didn't give them (or anyone else) the time of day, I left that arena with one single hope. That they grow up to be Tar Heel fans - whether they go to Notre Dame, Florida (oh bless their hearts, I hope they don't), Alabama, Auburn (Lord, bless their hearts again), or anywhere else in the country and that they always carry with them the "little-kid perception" that I often talk about when people ask me why I'm such a Tar Heel fan.
So, in the end, I hope Miami taught everyone a lesson. I hope Tyler's a bit more friendly next time and a little more like Coach Roy. I hope I remember for myself how attitude and behavior affect those around you and that my poor attitude, whether from stress or just 'one of those days', didn't harm my close relationships with my family like Psycho-T's anti-social butt did for our relationship (as hard as it is to say, the engagement as been post-poned until we work things out and have an attitude readjustment).
Mom, Daddy, Ashley, and Tyler (Little): I love you and thank you for this weekend. As I've said time and time again, whether to you all or to my friends, seeing our family's passion (Alabama football and Carolina basketball games) are never as fun without you as they are with you! I look forward to the next time we're all together again. As always, Go Heels and Roll Tide!
Disclaimer: Any comment in this posting was opinion of my own and in no way intended to be racial or discriminate. Have a nice day!
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