Never thought I'd say it, but folks, I think I'm a Duke fan. Duke basketball, anyway. I can't really explain it, but I'm going to try.
By now it's old news that Duke's season is done. Arizona and monster Derrick Williams did the deed—thanks in large part to the most perfect second half of basketball a team could ever play against Duke—in the Sweet Sixteen 93-77 the other night.
I couldn't believe Duke went down that hard and looked that bad doing it. And I was surprised how much I cared. How I was actually, unbelievably, sort of bummed out.
And by unbelievable, I really mean unbelievable. My brothers are Carolina fans. My uncle's a Carolina fan. My best friend, the guy I'm going to be the best man for, is a Carolina fan. I grew up a Carolina fan.
But now it seems I've been swayed.
Don Miller wrote in Blue Like Jazz that he never liked jazz music because it didn't resolve, until one day when he saw a jazz musician play and saw how intensely in love with jazz the guy was. He said, to paraphrase, "Seeing someone else love jazz is what made me love jazz."
It's like the least manly thing ever, but I think that seeing someone else love Duke is making me love Duke.