UNC basketball

As I write this, I am twenty-some-odd hours removed from having watched UNC’s first (and hopefully sole) loss of the 2007-2008 Division I Men’s Basketball Season. I am devastated. For those of you who didn’t watch the game, shame on you. Regardless, I will give you a recap. We lost to Maryland. Maryland, an unranked school whose wins over such well-known perennial juggernauts as Northeastern University (7-10), Savannah State University (10-14), and North Florida University (1-16!) should have belied their hidden power that on Saturday emerged from the ACC’s also-ran column, fully formed like an angry phoenix with a wicked jump shot and killer defense. Bambaly Osby, you are my enemy.
I care about UNC basketball more than I feel that normal people care about most things. For example, I probably care more about UNC basketball than my mom cares about the fact that over Christmas break, I returned her car to her with an inexplicable dent in the fender, an event that, hypothetically, should elicit massive retaliation from any parent. I care about basketball more than I care about (at least) a third of my classes at school. And I definitely care more about UNC basketball than I do about the individuals who make up the UNC basketball team.
This is what separates me from the superfans, those who would literally give their firstborn for a chance to have lunch with the likes of Tyler Hansbrough or Coach Roy Williams or even a non-prominent player such as Quentin Thomas or Greg Little. At UNC, the superfans dominate — you can’t swing a dead cat around this place without hitting somebody who knows that Tyler Hansbrough comes from Poplar Bluff, Mississippi and that his father is a plastic surgeon.
Oddly enough, it seems to me that females are much more into the cult of personality that UNC cultivates around the team. Girls who in high school had no vested interest in UNC basketball or even a cursory knowledge of the basic rules and principles of the game are now seemingly obsessed with the team’s actions both on the court and off. It is because of these idiotic doters that I have become aware of such trivial minutia as the fact that Wayne Ellington drives a (insert car name here) or that Tyler Hansbrough lives with Bobby Frasor and takes care of him now that his ACL is torn. I’m sure that Bobby Frasor is a genuine, decent human who will go on to live a worthwhile life, but the fact that he has torn his ACL officially deems his existence completely irrelevant in my eyes.
Simply put, I don’t care about these people the same way I care about human beings. These young men are all clearly worthwhile individuals, but I have no vested interest in their lives. Tyler Hansbrough is not the best player in the country because he lives with Bobby Frasor. He is the best player in the country because he is gigantic, physically dominant, and has the work ethic of Stalin’s ideal laborer. Wayne Ellington’s (insert car here) doesn’t score 17.1 points per game. The fact that Ty Lawson carries a Spongebob Squarepants backpack is a cute footnote in the book of his basketball career, but Ty Lawson’s backpack cannot penetrate the lane with half the effectiveness that Ty Lawson’s body can. I do, however, care about UNC basketball for actual reasons, such as the fact that I attend college here, and the fact that we are the number-one-ranked team in the nation (Okay, so we were. I’m still having trouble coping. Lousy Memphis.).