Dexter Strickland and Paco

My wife had to work today while I had the day off, so she charged me to use our nearly expired coupon for T.C. Anderson's car wash in Durham. As I approached the counter to present the coupon, I heard a loud cackling noise coming from the back of the store. At first I thought it was an unruly child, but my curiosity grew when I saw a middle-aged couple calmly singing "You Are My Sunshine" into the corner of the room toward the commotion. They were engaging in conversation and song with Paco, a talking parrot.

"How long has that bird been here?" I asked the cashier.

"We've had him for 10 years," she said.

I finished my transaction and slowly walked toward the couple and caged bird, trying not to disrupt their rhythm. Paco danced to the song, alternately running in a circle and twisting his head like Stevie Wonder. His singing was only intermittent but awkwardly loud, like a call on speakerphone with terrible reception.

The couple must have sensed my presence behind them, so they backed away. It was my turn to talk with Paco. I approached the cage and silently read the posted instruction sheet while Paco eyed me with anticipation. It said that Paco liked to say hello and goodbye and would, as had already been demonstrated, respond to one specific song. Since I had been to T.C.'s many times but never heard anybody talk with Paco, I felt suddenly self conscious about talking to a bird in the presence of other people. Singing alone seemed even more embarrassing, so I turned to walk away.

"Bye bye," Paco said. I stopped and turned toward Paco to briefly reconsider, but I decided again to leave the bird alone.

And then, as I was watching NC State lose its bowl game on television in the waiting area, I noticed that UNC basketball guard Dexter Strickland was doing the same thing. An older gentleman also noticed Dexter's presence and introduced himself before asking when Carolina's next game would be. Dexter seemed happy to chat with the guy. They shook hands before Dexter left and struggled to shove what must have been a thick wad of singles through a slit in a wooden box labeled "tips."

Frustrated that I was too timid to be my friendly self around a Carolina athlete in public yet again, I walked back to Paco, who saw me coming from a mile away since his side of the store had cleared. He clawed at the front side of the cage as if to wave hello. I leaned in close.

"Dexter Strickland dunked on Miles Plumlee in 2011," I whispered, "but I still feel like I have nothing to talk about with him. Isn't that silly? Also, he is a tremendous tipper."

"Bye bye," Paco replied.

The 2001 Mr. Libertyville High School pageant

Last week I was having lunch with my colleagues when the topic of pi reciting arose. Pi reciting is the competitive task of reciting as many memorized digits of pi as possible while a witness holds the reciter accountable by silently reading the printed digits. I cannot call it a feat because simply saying “3.14” would qualify one as a pi reciter. The idea is to be able to recite an impressive number of digits or more than anyone else you know. 

My department chair’s student had announced to the school over the speaker system that his math teacher could recite the first 200 digits of pi. This was not actually true; apparently the student held a playful grudge and thought the public statement would embarrass his teacher.

“I think most of you already know that I was in a school-sponsored male beauty pageant in high school,” I interjected. “The guy who placed second recited the first 314 digits of pi. It was legitimate; he had distributed the 314 digits to everyone in the sold-out theater. His name was Roger Hsiao.”

What I did not tell them was that Roger stumbled in the middle of it, probably around digit 200, and then recovered only after a couple digits of help from a judge.

“I never forget pi,” he said as he shuffled off the stage, shaking his head. “I blew it.” The misstep had shaken him and probably cost him the title of Mr. Libertyville High School in the final interview.

I had watched his performance in the wings in swimming trunks and an Australian Outback hat, hating myself for choosing a talent that neither required rehearsal nor inspired awe. I had chosen to wrestle an inflatable crocodile into a garbage bag. I knew I would look foolish following Roger's effort, but I had no option to do anything except for what I had already barely planned. None of the contestants had divulged his talent to anyone prior to the big night, so nerves were high. I guess they got to Roger, and they were about to get to me.

I went out there, and the sound guy cued my techno mix track filled with Steve Irwin quotes like “IT’S FEEDING TIME” and “I HAVE NO FEAR OF LOSING MY LIFE.” My friend pulled on a fishing line that dragged the croc onto the stage. I was feeling too nervous to honor Irwin’s guile, so I decided to end it quick. I pounced, rolled around a bit and stuffed half of the pool toy into the bag. The other half wouldn’t fit. I quickly ran off stage to startled applause.

“Did you win?” my colleagues asked. “Did you beat Roger?”

“No,” I said. “Ben Polite won. I think he wore a Speedo in the swimwear portion.”

I resolved to find video footage of the pageant to surprise my colleagues, but LHS could not find it in its archive. Perhaps this blog post will stir the video to the surface.

A brief look at Carolina's football rivalries

Note: This post mentions Carolina football rivals in unflattering terms. Before you get bunchy underwear about something I wrote, remember that I'm not insulting schools. I'm insulting football teams and occasionally their fans and maybe, by extension, you.

Last night's matchup between the Heels and the 'Hoos got me thinking about Carolina's diverse football rivals. When I arrived on campus in 2003, rivalries were not evident because Carolina football was not evident. It took time for me to learn what my new friends had known for years about the five rivals.

I'll start with Duke, the proximity rival. I have to include the Devils in this post because they are eight miles away and culturally opposite of Carolina for many ugly reasons. Unfortunately, the rivalry suffers because Duke football suffers. Duke students have not supported their team for many years, so the game can feel like solitaire. That said, Duke did reclaim the Victory Bell this season. Perhaps the changing of hands will change the atmosphere of the Tobacco Road gridiron rivalry, but it probably won't. Fans make a football rivalry; a team only plays in it. All-time series record: 57-36-4.

NC State is the contemporary rival. The best part of playing the Wolfpack is its fanbase, a loud bunch that seems to root against Carolina more than it roots for its own team. Beating State is a joy, but the magnitude of that joy does not compare to the despair of losing to them unless, of course, you refer to the 2004 or 2012 victories. Current and past head coaches at both schools have hurled insults through local media and sometimes apologized. All-time series record: 64-32-6.

East Carolina is the rag doll rival. Awhile ago I read that the North Carolina General Assembly passed legislation requiring the continuation of the series. Fine, I say. East Carolina fans are passionate enough to care more about their own team than State fans. Game day in Greenville is a fun experience, but I suspect it is at its best when the Heels are in town. All-time series record: 11-2-1

South Carolina is the forgotten rival. Most Heels fans want to see this game as at least a biannual fixture, but South Carolina has no room for us because it already faces out-of-conference Clemson each year. At least that's what they would say. South Carolina fans have a football arrogance that can be found at most SEC schools, but the Gamecocks' 1971 departure from the ACC intensifies that arrogance. South Carolina narrowly escaped its last encounter in Chapel Hill. I hope the result will be different next August when the Heels and Gamecocks kick off the season on a Thursday night in Columbia. All-time series record: 34-18-4

Virginia is the classical rival. I think traditional might be too strong of a word since most Carolina football fans care more about beating ACC newcomer Virginia Tech. But Carolina and Virginia share the oldest rivalry in the South. If you have ever seen a black-and-white photograph of Carolina football fans, then you were looking at people who hated the University of Virginia football team. I have to respect that. All-time series record: 59-53-4

The source of my back pain could be Carolina's punt return team

I am taking today off work because of increasing back pain that started Monday night without apparent cause. I feel undue guilt for missing work since a lot of people depend on me every day, so I will list possible moments of injury to rationalize my absence.

1. I transported a heavy laptop case and two textbooks to and from work in the passenger seat of my car Monday morning and afternoon. I lifted them into my lap while sitting in the driver's seat before exiting the car.

2. My wife and I cleaned our house Sunday night in preparation for hosting her brother. As was her custom for the few months since our wedding, she pointed to our ottoman full of blankets, magazines and board games and said, "Please lift." As was my custom, I lifted.

3. NC State was tied with my Tar Heels with less than two minutes remaining when State head coach Tom O'Brien decided to eat all three of his time outs and settle for overtime with the ball inside the State 25. He figured he had an advantage in overtime since the State passing attack had toyed with our secondary for much of the game. Carolina head coach Larry Fedora decided to gamble on third and long when he called a time out to stop the clock. It could have been a disastrous decision if the Wolfpack moved the chains, but the Carolina defense made the stop. Fedora called Carolina's last time out with 30 seconds on the game clock, and the stage was set for the most unexpected if not the most electrifying finish in series history.

I was sitting with my dad, my wife and my friend Daniel in the upper level near the 50, a perfect location to watch a game-winning play that spanned 74 yards. Most of my readers know what happened next. The injured Giovanni Bernard substituted himself back into the game when he heard his favorite play call. Carolina faked a full rush and dropped back for the return. Gio beat the first man and crossed the field where a wall of blockers greeted him. Play-by-play voice Jones Angell lost his mind. Sixty-thousand fans lost their minds. Hundreds of thousands of fans not in Kenan lost their minds. Five years of futility vanished in 17 seconds.

My friend Daniel really lost it. His vocabulary shrinks to a set of 15 words, not all publishable, when the Tar Heels find themselves in this sort of elation or, as he demonstrated last year at Virginia Tech, dire disappointment. I did not lose my mind until Gio crossed the goal line because I was scanning the field for flags, but Daniel seemed to know what would happen as soon as Gio sprinted toward the NC State sideline. He jumped and used his words. When he saw I was not, he wrapped his arms around my waist and repeatedly thrust me into the air.

The remaining 13 seconds of game clock resulted in a botched PAT that turned into a two-point conversion, a kicking team fumble recovery and a victory formation. It was plenty of time and material to "Jump Around," a basketball tradition that I am happy to see has crossed over into Kenan. But my back might not be happy about it or Daniel's celebration.

Either work, family or Carolina football really tore me up. I know you can relate. I only have video footage of the football incident courtesy of GoHeels.com. Enjoy.

Note: You might need to press control+escape to exit full-screen mode.