The Carolina basketball team recovered from a down season to win the 2011 Atlantic Coast Conference regular season championship with a winner-take-all victory over the Duke Blue Devils at home. I did not write about it when it happened because it was only the beginning of March Madness; the story of the season was not complete.
I really should have written about it. My dad, sister and friends went to the game with me. It was one of the best wins I have witnessed in the Dean Dome. My dad rushed Franklin Street with us. We got there just in time to watch the cops clear the street of students, so we went to Linda's to celebrate instead. It was magical.
In more recent news, Woody Durham unexpectedly retired after 40 years at the microphone as the radio voice of the Tar Heels. Durham cited declining performance as his reason for leaving the post. His retirement press conference was a portrait of an aging man leaving the profession he loved before someone else asked him to. Some of you might remember me expressing the same sentiments about his performance without the nostalgic mercy of a lifelong Carolina fan. Those who were born here since 1971 heard his voice before they could understand speech. I understand their loss and consider it my own as well.
CBS Carolina vs. Duke highlights from March 5, 2011
Daily Tar Heel Carolina vs. Duke highlights from March 5, 2011
Carolina vs. Duke time lapse video from March 5, 2011
2010-2011 men's basketball season highlights
Woody Durham's retirement press conference
Woody Durham's greatest calls
Friday, April 29, 2011
Wednesday, April 27, 2011
Pictures of Carolina
Today I had a significant block of time to waste on campus, so I strolled through McCorkle Place. Not much happened, but I photographed a few things with the intent to post them here. I doubt photographs will be a lasting feature on my blog, but I want to try this once.
Monday, April 18, 2011
Scream 4 and fond memories
This post has no spoiler.
Scream 4 arrived in theaters this weekend to end the witty horror series' decade-long hiatus. I was a big fan of the films in the late 1990s because Scream was my first horror flick, one that thrilled me from beginning to end when I watched it by my 12-year-old self in a dark room.
Most of the original film's rich and witty references escaped my young mind, so I watched it again last week, this time with friends, to prepare for the fourth installment. The original was not scary anymore, but its humor and entertainment value retained its classic status.
I might have watched Scream back in 1997 only to prepare for the theater release of Scream 2, which was a momentous occasion for those fortunate enough to have been in middle school at the time. My classmates talked about the sequel for weeks before its release. The film was rated R, but underage middle and high school students filled the sold out theater on opening night; a handful of willing parents had done the box office deed.
You can only imagine the atmosphere in a movie theater filled with such a demographic, but I can remember it. Boys shouted over the previews. Girls screamed only to attract attention. Both sexes swooned next to crushes. Students in the front stood up to carry conversations with students sitting in the back. To a child, it was historic.
All this commotion might have continued through much of the film if the opening scene was not an exact reflection of our own pandemonium. Scream 2's first unfortunate victims, Jada Pinkett and Omar Epps, attended the sneak preview of Stab, the film-within-a-film based on the events of Scream. Their fellow audience members differed from ours only in age and appearance; many of the college-aged Stab viewers wore the killer's disguise. Of course one of them was a killer who murdered Omar in the bathroom and poor Jada in the middle of the theater. That got our attention.
Scream 2 was delightful. Many critics and fans thought it had outdone the original while staying true to the story. Scream 3, the self-proclaimed finale, came out a few years later to much less acclaim and box office success.
Scream 4's limited marketing brought back some of those memories. I decided I would watch the film on opening night to capture some of that same magic from 1997. Not knowing quite what to expect, I bought two tickets the night before in case of a sellout. I figured the opening night crowd would be folks of my own age who grew up with the trilogy, but I did not want to discount the new generation of teenagers.
My girlfriend and I arrived at the theater 40 minutes ahead of the curtain to get good seats, but we were the first to arrive. Only a couple dozen adults were seated when the lights dimmed, but that was the only disappointing part. Scream 4 was a tribute to the original while staying fresh with the times, and the ending was awesome.
A family of five or six walked in 30 minutes late and sat behind us. They began to talk like they were at a rock concert. My girlfriend gave a brief glance along with a middle-aged fellow sitting directly in front of me, but the family continued to talk. Finally, the guy in front of me stood up, turned around and delivered.
"Yo! Shut up! Really!" he shouted with outstretched arms.
"Now it's a Scream movie," I whispered to my girlfriend.
The embedded YouTube video below is the Scream 2 opening scene. It contains violence and foul language.
Scream 4 arrived in theaters this weekend to end the witty horror series' decade-long hiatus. I was a big fan of the films in the late 1990s because Scream was my first horror flick, one that thrilled me from beginning to end when I watched it by my 12-year-old self in a dark room.
Most of the original film's rich and witty references escaped my young mind, so I watched it again last week, this time with friends, to prepare for the fourth installment. The original was not scary anymore, but its humor and entertainment value retained its classic status.
I might have watched Scream back in 1997 only to prepare for the theater release of Scream 2, which was a momentous occasion for those fortunate enough to have been in middle school at the time. My classmates talked about the sequel for weeks before its release. The film was rated R, but underage middle and high school students filled the sold out theater on opening night; a handful of willing parents had done the box office deed.
You can only imagine the atmosphere in a movie theater filled with such a demographic, but I can remember it. Boys shouted over the previews. Girls screamed only to attract attention. Both sexes swooned next to crushes. Students in the front stood up to carry conversations with students sitting in the back. To a child, it was historic.
All this commotion might have continued through much of the film if the opening scene was not an exact reflection of our own pandemonium. Scream 2's first unfortunate victims, Jada Pinkett and Omar Epps, attended the sneak preview of Stab, the film-within-a-film based on the events of Scream. Their fellow audience members differed from ours only in age and appearance; many of the college-aged Stab viewers wore the killer's disguise. Of course one of them was a killer who murdered Omar in the bathroom and poor Jada in the middle of the theater. That got our attention.
Scream 2 was delightful. Many critics and fans thought it had outdone the original while staying true to the story. Scream 3, the self-proclaimed finale, came out a few years later to much less acclaim and box office success.
Scream 4's limited marketing brought back some of those memories. I decided I would watch the film on opening night to capture some of that same magic from 1997. Not knowing quite what to expect, I bought two tickets the night before in case of a sellout. I figured the opening night crowd would be folks of my own age who grew up with the trilogy, but I did not want to discount the new generation of teenagers.
My girlfriend and I arrived at the theater 40 minutes ahead of the curtain to get good seats, but we were the first to arrive. Only a couple dozen adults were seated when the lights dimmed, but that was the only disappointing part. Scream 4 was a tribute to the original while staying fresh with the times, and the ending was awesome.
A family of five or six walked in 30 minutes late and sat behind us. They began to talk like they were at a rock concert. My girlfriend gave a brief glance along with a middle-aged fellow sitting directly in front of me, but the family continued to talk. Finally, the guy in front of me stood up, turned around and delivered.
"Yo! Shut up! Really!" he shouted with outstretched arms.
"Now it's a Scream movie," I whispered to my girlfriend.
The embedded YouTube video below is the Scream 2 opening scene. It contains violence and foul language.
Thursday, April 7, 2011
Heels hoop it up with students; Ryan joins them
Carolina basketball players have taken to playing pick up games with Carolina students at various campus courts a week after their elimination from the NCAA tournament. The team uses Twitter to attract hundreds of student players and spectators to the afternoon games.
The Daily Tar Heel published a video feature of Tar Heels, student athletes and students alike, playing basketball at the Cobb basketball courts on the day of the national championship between Butler and Connecticut. You might say the players did it to show their appreciation for the fans; you could also say the fans went to show their appreciation for the players. This is the symbiotic relationship that represents what college athletics should be.
The games might not be big news at all schools, but they are at a Division I powerhouse like Carolina. Half the student athletes on the basketball team could make millions in the few seconds it would take to flick a pen on a dotted line. Their days are filled with college classwork but also training, practice and game film study. These guys work hard because they are competitive. Their distance from the student body is only natural. And yet, as point guard Kendall Marshall put it, the student athletes want students to interact with them and see that they are "just like them."
"This could only happen at Carolina," my mom said. Maybe. To be fair, not all Carolina teams could perfect such a community integration, but this team is different. The players enjoy each other and their peers. This season was something of a college sports eclipse.
And where better for it to happen? Carolina was the poster child for breaking NCAA rules last autumn when the football team imploded under an illegal benefits and academic integrity scandal. The fans supported the team more than ever, but this fan could not help but feel that some of the student athletes who were not allowed on the field did not return the favor.
My colleague Rachel informed me this afternoon that the basketball players would again play with students at a new campus location. I know I am somewhat removed from being a student, but I wanted to go anyway. So I did. My friend Ryan, a fourth year medical student and former junior varsity basketball player at Carolina, also wanted to meet me there.
"Will you suit up?" I asked.
"I was thinking about it," he said. "I think I will just see what is going on."
I arrived at the specified basketball court a half hour after the scheduled starting time and found nothing but two students playing a game of one-on-one. A couple pedestrians informed me that the event moved to another court while pointing at one of the backboards.
"They snapped off the rim," one said. Sure enough.
I strolled down a hill, turned a corner and saw the same scene I saw in the DTH video. Hundreds of students had gathered around the court and along the dormitory balconies to watch Kendall Marshall, Dexter Strickland, Leslie McDonald, Harrison Barnes and an unknown fifth take on varying teams in games to seven points each. As soon as each game ended, dozens of students raced to one free throw line for a chance to be one of the first five students to make a 15-footer and secure a spot on the court with the Heels.
Five sorority girls averted the selection system with screen-printed team T-shirts. After playing most of the game with a lazy zone defense, a trio of Tar Heel guards triple-team trapped one of the tiny girls in the back court. It was all over then.
"Where are John and Reggie?" I asked. A stranger pointed 20 feet to my left. They had just arrived and were appreciating the game like the rest of the crowd. I never would have noticed them if I did not ask; they were two of many.
The games entertained not because of the world class talent but because of the novelty of it all. I will remember the afternoon for the rest of my life. Afterward I imagined a Nike commercial with Michael Jordan playing one-on-one with a middle school midget. But this was better because it was real and genuine.
And I thought all this before Ryan hit his qualifying shot. He pretended to be content with watching on the sidelines but eventually threw his sweatshirt over my shoulder.
"I'm going in the next one," he said as he worked his way to the sideline for the free-throw dash. Ryan thought the previous game's seventh point was scored at least twice and looked like a maniac dashing in and out of bounds. I did not think to have my camera ready for that.
So he hit the shot, and I recorded what followed for posterity. If you don't know Ryan, he is the bespectacled guy in the white V-neck undershirt pushing an unexpected transition offense, scoring a tip in and playing the middle of a reasonably effective zone. I had no reason to worry about the student athletes sustaining injuries; Ryan will be a doctor in a month. Oh, and when he came off the court, he had something to say.
"Did you see," he said and paused to hack a few coughs, "did you see me pop a J without hesitation?"
I did, Ryan. And now so will everyone else.
Addendum: Click here for the Wall Street Journal story.
The Daily Tar Heel published a video feature of Tar Heels, student athletes and students alike, playing basketball at the Cobb basketball courts on the day of the national championship between Butler and Connecticut. You might say the players did it to show their appreciation for the fans; you could also say the fans went to show their appreciation for the players. This is the symbiotic relationship that represents what college athletics should be.
The games might not be big news at all schools, but they are at a Division I powerhouse like Carolina. Half the student athletes on the basketball team could make millions in the few seconds it would take to flick a pen on a dotted line. Their days are filled with college classwork but also training, practice and game film study. These guys work hard because they are competitive. Their distance from the student body is only natural. And yet, as point guard Kendall Marshall put it, the student athletes want students to interact with them and see that they are "just like them."
"This could only happen at Carolina," my mom said. Maybe. To be fair, not all Carolina teams could perfect such a community integration, but this team is different. The players enjoy each other and their peers. This season was something of a college sports eclipse.
And where better for it to happen? Carolina was the poster child for breaking NCAA rules last autumn when the football team imploded under an illegal benefits and academic integrity scandal. The fans supported the team more than ever, but this fan could not help but feel that some of the student athletes who were not allowed on the field did not return the favor.
My colleague Rachel informed me this afternoon that the basketball players would again play with students at a new campus location. I know I am somewhat removed from being a student, but I wanted to go anyway. So I did. My friend Ryan, a fourth year medical student and former junior varsity basketball player at Carolina, also wanted to meet me there.
"Will you suit up?" I asked.
"I was thinking about it," he said. "I think I will just see what is going on."
I arrived at the specified basketball court a half hour after the scheduled starting time and found nothing but two students playing a game of one-on-one. A couple pedestrians informed me that the event moved to another court while pointing at one of the backboards.
"They snapped off the rim," one said. Sure enough.
I strolled down a hill, turned a corner and saw the same scene I saw in the DTH video. Hundreds of students had gathered around the court and along the dormitory balconies to watch Kendall Marshall, Dexter Strickland, Leslie McDonald, Harrison Barnes and an unknown fifth take on varying teams in games to seven points each. As soon as each game ended, dozens of students raced to one free throw line for a chance to be one of the first five students to make a 15-footer and secure a spot on the court with the Heels.
Five sorority girls averted the selection system with screen-printed team T-shirts. After playing most of the game with a lazy zone defense, a trio of Tar Heel guards triple-team trapped one of the tiny girls in the back court. It was all over then.
"Where are John and Reggie?" I asked. A stranger pointed 20 feet to my left. They had just arrived and were appreciating the game like the rest of the crowd. I never would have noticed them if I did not ask; they were two of many.
The games entertained not because of the world class talent but because of the novelty of it all. I will remember the afternoon for the rest of my life. Afterward I imagined a Nike commercial with Michael Jordan playing one-on-one with a middle school midget. But this was better because it was real and genuine.
And I thought all this before Ryan hit his qualifying shot. He pretended to be content with watching on the sidelines but eventually threw his sweatshirt over my shoulder.
"I'm going in the next one," he said as he worked his way to the sideline for the free-throw dash. Ryan thought the previous game's seventh point was scored at least twice and looked like a maniac dashing in and out of bounds. I did not think to have my camera ready for that.
So he hit the shot, and I recorded what followed for posterity. If you don't know Ryan, he is the bespectacled guy in the white V-neck undershirt pushing an unexpected transition offense, scoring a tip in and playing the middle of a reasonably effective zone. I had no reason to worry about the student athletes sustaining injuries; Ryan will be a doctor in a month. Oh, and when he came off the court, he had something to say.
"Did you see," he said and paused to hack a few coughs, "did you see me pop a J without hesitation?"
I did, Ryan. And now so will everyone else.
Addendum: Click here for the Wall Street Journal story.
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