UNC Basketball History
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donbosco
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Can't leave out the dookies...A famous column from "Wednesday's Child"
“Why We Hate Duke”
Ian Williams
1990 DTH Columnist
I recall a strange and hazy time about four and a half years ago, fretting in the sweltering heat of Hinton James 244, sitting on my bed while the rest of the residents scurried outside.
My suitemate from Brevard was parading his spittle collection, a particularly nauseating mass of his oral waste that he kept in three 2-liter bottles above the door. My roommate spoke in a dialect from Edenton that barely passed for anything on our side of the language tree, and the only things I had to wear in the 105-degree weather were corduroy pants from my goofball private high school. Tripping over bricks, showing up for classes in rooms miles away from where the classes were taught and getting lost by the water tower, I might as well have had a huge placard wrapped around my neck that said “Oh so clueless” and a number to call in case anybody found me peeing in his yard.
But there was a time before that. I call it The Time When I Thought I Wanted to Go to Duke.
For some unexplainable reasons having to do with planetary alignment or a chemical imbalance, I was set on going to that university in Durham. My high school in Virginia brainwashed us all into thinking that if we didn’t end up going to either Duke, UVA, or one of the Ivys we would surely end up stocking Pampers at Wal-Mart. So off I scuttled to those schools, all bushy-tailed and bated, hopin’ to impress some institutes of higher learning. By the time I got to visiting Duke, however, the luster of collegge had begun to dull into a bleak haze.
My tour guide’s name was Lorna- no lie- and she spoke in a loud, brash voice that seemed to shake the leaves from the cute little shrubberies. “And on your left is Duke Chapel, the centerpiece of our Gothic campus. Our university is considered by many to be the most beautiful campus in America.”
“Umm, excuse me,” I said, “Where do all the kids live?”
“The kids,” she said, in a voice of utter disdain reserved only for parents whose child has been very, very naughty. “The Duke student body mostly lives in the buildings you are looking at right here, with the beautiful Gothic architecture.”
“Well, how hard are the classes here? Would I be studying all the time?”
She fixed her cruel New Jersey gaze on my frightened 17-year-old soul. “Look, that’s totally assuming you even get in here at all. I know tons of people that would have given their left arm to get in here. And not only that, but- Oh, hi, Thad!” Some senior named Thad wearing Vuarnets and baggy khaki shorts ambled up with an evil Gleem smile.
“Leadin’ the kids around, eh Lorna?” he asked, and cackled like the frat Grinch.
“Yeah,” she giggled, and the two whispered to each other while exchanging muffled laughs.
I was herded into the cafeteria and stuck in a line for pizza, while Lorna went off into the crowd with some of her friends. A scowling guy slapped a piece of rubber pepperoni pizza on my plate, and as I walked across the room to sit down, I tripped on one of those Gothic little cherub things on the floor and sent my pizza flying 20 feet onto the sweater of a girl named Annabeth, a junior English major from Bridgeport, Connecticut.
“Oh my God!” she squealed, and every face in the entire joint looked right at me. Thad the sunglasses man started to clap, and half of the cafeteria joined in my humiliation.
Suddenly, I was back in third grade, and all the boys and girls were pointing and laughing at the picture I’d drawn of my family. Suddenly, I was sitting alone at the side of the blacktop while everyone else got picked for the dodgeball team. Suddenly, I was lying in the Iowa snow, getting my ribs kicked by five guys who thought I’d stolen their football. I had no escape.
And that’s when I decided to go to Carolina. I had never seen the place, had never heard of Chapel Hill and I picked Hinton James because it had a laundry room. After a while I grew used to the town- I didn’t get lost behind the water tower; I learned where Gardner Hall was; and I began to enjoy the company of my suitemate, despite his spittle collection. I also developed a taste for basketball, and during the games I noticed that we had certain heated rivalries- whenever we played one of those teams, I got tense and dug holes in the seat.
Now I realize that school spirit is a pretty goofy thing to some people, but I’ll tell you something: I hate Duke with an infernal passion undying. I hate every leaf of every tree on that sickening campus. I hate every fake cherub Gothic piece of crap that litters the buildings like hemorrhoidal testiments to imagined superiority. When I see those Dookie boneheads shoe-polishing their faces navy blue on television, squadering their parents’ money with their fratty elitist bad sportsmanship antics and Saab stories, I want to puke all over Durham.
So this is my request, boys of basketball: Tonight, I not only want you to win, I want Krzyzewski calling home to his mother with tears in his eyes. I want Alaa Abdelnaby to throw up brick after brick. I want Rick Fox to take Christian Laettner to the hoop so many times that poor Christian will be dazed on the bench with an Etch-a-Sketch and a box of Crayola crayons. I want Bobby Hurley to trip on his shoelaces and fly into a fat alumnus from Wilimington. Send Thad and Lorna home with their blue tails between their legs.
God bless them Tar Heel boys!
“Why We Hate Duke”
Ian Williams
1990 DTH Columnist
I recall a strange and hazy time about four and a half years ago, fretting in the sweltering heat of Hinton James 244, sitting on my bed while the rest of the residents scurried outside.
My suitemate from Brevard was parading his spittle collection, a particularly nauseating mass of his oral waste that he kept in three 2-liter bottles above the door. My roommate spoke in a dialect from Edenton that barely passed for anything on our side of the language tree, and the only things I had to wear in the 105-degree weather were corduroy pants from my goofball private high school. Tripping over bricks, showing up for classes in rooms miles away from where the classes were taught and getting lost by the water tower, I might as well have had a huge placard wrapped around my neck that said “Oh so clueless” and a number to call in case anybody found me peeing in his yard.
But there was a time before that. I call it The Time When I Thought I Wanted to Go to Duke.
For some unexplainable reasons having to do with planetary alignment or a chemical imbalance, I was set on going to that university in Durham. My high school in Virginia brainwashed us all into thinking that if we didn’t end up going to either Duke, UVA, or one of the Ivys we would surely end up stocking Pampers at Wal-Mart. So off I scuttled to those schools, all bushy-tailed and bated, hopin’ to impress some institutes of higher learning. By the time I got to visiting Duke, however, the luster of collegge had begun to dull into a bleak haze.
My tour guide’s name was Lorna- no lie- and she spoke in a loud, brash voice that seemed to shake the leaves from the cute little shrubberies. “And on your left is Duke Chapel, the centerpiece of our Gothic campus. Our university is considered by many to be the most beautiful campus in America.”
“Umm, excuse me,” I said, “Where do all the kids live?”
“The kids,” she said, in a voice of utter disdain reserved only for parents whose child has been very, very naughty. “The Duke student body mostly lives in the buildings you are looking at right here, with the beautiful Gothic architecture.”
“Well, how hard are the classes here? Would I be studying all the time?”
She fixed her cruel New Jersey gaze on my frightened 17-year-old soul. “Look, that’s totally assuming you even get in here at all. I know tons of people that would have given their left arm to get in here. And not only that, but- Oh, hi, Thad!” Some senior named Thad wearing Vuarnets and baggy khaki shorts ambled up with an evil Gleem smile.
“Leadin’ the kids around, eh Lorna?” he asked, and cackled like the frat Grinch.
“Yeah,” she giggled, and the two whispered to each other while exchanging muffled laughs.
I was herded into the cafeteria and stuck in a line for pizza, while Lorna went off into the crowd with some of her friends. A scowling guy slapped a piece of rubber pepperoni pizza on my plate, and as I walked across the room to sit down, I tripped on one of those Gothic little cherub things on the floor and sent my pizza flying 20 feet onto the sweater of a girl named Annabeth, a junior English major from Bridgeport, Connecticut.
“Oh my God!” she squealed, and every face in the entire joint looked right at me. Thad the sunglasses man started to clap, and half of the cafeteria joined in my humiliation.
Suddenly, I was back in third grade, and all the boys and girls were pointing and laughing at the picture I’d drawn of my family. Suddenly, I was sitting alone at the side of the blacktop while everyone else got picked for the dodgeball team. Suddenly, I was lying in the Iowa snow, getting my ribs kicked by five guys who thought I’d stolen their football. I had no escape.
And that’s when I decided to go to Carolina. I had never seen the place, had never heard of Chapel Hill and I picked Hinton James because it had a laundry room. After a while I grew used to the town- I didn’t get lost behind the water tower; I learned where Gardner Hall was; and I began to enjoy the company of my suitemate, despite his spittle collection. I also developed a taste for basketball, and during the games I noticed that we had certain heated rivalries- whenever we played one of those teams, I got tense and dug holes in the seat.
Now I realize that school spirit is a pretty goofy thing to some people, but I’ll tell you something: I hate Duke with an infernal passion undying. I hate every leaf of every tree on that sickening campus. I hate every fake cherub Gothic piece of crap that litters the buildings like hemorrhoidal testiments to imagined superiority. When I see those Dookie boneheads shoe-polishing their faces navy blue on television, squadering their parents’ money with their fratty elitist bad sportsmanship antics and Saab stories, I want to puke all over Durham.
So this is my request, boys of basketball: Tonight, I not only want you to win, I want Krzyzewski calling home to his mother with tears in his eyes. I want Alaa Abdelnaby to throw up brick after brick. I want Rick Fox to take Christian Laettner to the hoop so many times that poor Christian will be dazed on the bench with an Etch-a-Sketch and a box of Crayola crayons. I want Bobby Hurley to trip on his shoelaces and fly into a fat alumnus from Wilimington. Send Thad and Lorna home with their blue tails between their legs.
God bless them Tar Heel boys!
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1. Hinton James had laundry room on every floor.
2. I can still remember how astonished I was when I discovered that tuition and fees at every school in the UNC system were all within a few dollars of each other. Tuition and fees at UNC-Chapel Hill were, with in few dollars or the same as UNC-Pembroke, East Carolina, or UNC-Wilmington. And my immediate thought was something like, "If they all cost the same, then why not UNC-Chapel Hill?"
donbosco
Legend of ZZL
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It is a good read...
vault.si.com
Dean Smith: Why UNC's legendary coach is SI's 1997 Sportsman of the Year
In 1968, shortly after North Carolina reached its first NCAA basketball final under Dean Smith, grateful boosters presented the Tar Heels' coach with a
vault.si.com
donbosco
Legend of ZZL
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#OTD (December 9) n 1960 the Carolina and dook Freshmen basketball teams played the third of three preseason scrimmages with one another in the Jordan-Mathews High School Gym in Siler City. The game ended in a brawl that sent Art Heyman of dook...to the hospital. Deiter Krause was the one that struck the blow...some say it was a cheap shot, others say it was in retaliation and well-thrown. Witnesses do not agree. I have asked around.
(There would be a much more famous fight the following year in the game in Durham between the two varsity squads but also including Heyman and Larry Brown of UNC...there is youtube video of that).
Who WAS Deiter Krause Anyway?
Catching Up With: Dieter Krause
Siler City: "When Heyman's freshman team at Duke met up with the UNC rookies in Siler City, N.C., in 1960, Waters, then the Devils' freshman coach, warned his brash star that the Heels -- and their fans -- would try to get under his skin.
And they did, taunting Heyman's Jewish heritage, according to Waters, and calling him other unprintable names.
"And I just told him, 'Keep your trap shut, play hard, shut your ears, and rip them,'" Waters said. "I told him I'd take him out at the end of the game, and he could look over to the bench and point to the scoreboard as his answer. The problem was, I didn't get him out early enough."
Near the end of Duke's win, with tensions still high, Tar Heels forward Dieter Krause, who was matched up with Heyman, clocked his foe so hard it drew blood.
Waters said Kraus threw the first punch.
Kraus, in a recent interview with ESPN.com, said he was just playing aggressively -- and defending himself.
"This was the second half, and I was playing defense on who I subsequently found out was Art Heyman -- I really didn't know who he was going into the game," Krause said. "I was playing him pretty tightly, after having been chastised at halftime for not playing defense aggressively enough and I remember a fist coming at me, and I instinctively ducked. He missed in his effort to hit me with his right hand -- and I instinctively counterpunched, and I connected with a punch to his face. And then total mayhem broke out."
The benches cleared; Krause went into an embryonic position to try to protect himself from kicking Duke players; Waters got so mad that he grabbed UNC freshman coach Ken Rosemond by the lapels and pushed him up against the scorer's table; and Heyman (who finished with 35 points) ended up needing stitches.
But that freshman fracas ended up serving as only the undercard for the following year's Brawl at Cameron -- the one that saw Heyman and UNC's Larry Brown and Donnie Walsh ultimately suspended for the rest of the ACC season after a 10-minute melee.
"There's no doubt there have been a lot of things that fed into the rivalry," Waters said, "but that fanned the flames."
Pickeral: Freshmen play a key role in Duke-North Carolina
(There would be a much more famous fight the following year in the game in Durham between the two varsity squads but also including Heyman and Larry Brown of UNC...there is youtube video of that).
Who WAS Deiter Krause Anyway?
Catching Up With: Dieter Krause
Siler City: "When Heyman's freshman team at Duke met up with the UNC rookies in Siler City, N.C., in 1960, Waters, then the Devils' freshman coach, warned his brash star that the Heels -- and their fans -- would try to get under his skin.
And they did, taunting Heyman's Jewish heritage, according to Waters, and calling him other unprintable names.
"And I just told him, 'Keep your trap shut, play hard, shut your ears, and rip them,'" Waters said. "I told him I'd take him out at the end of the game, and he could look over to the bench and point to the scoreboard as his answer. The problem was, I didn't get him out early enough."
Near the end of Duke's win, with tensions still high, Tar Heels forward Dieter Krause, who was matched up with Heyman, clocked his foe so hard it drew blood.
Waters said Kraus threw the first punch.
Kraus, in a recent interview with ESPN.com, said he was just playing aggressively -- and defending himself.
"This was the second half, and I was playing defense on who I subsequently found out was Art Heyman -- I really didn't know who he was going into the game," Krause said. "I was playing him pretty tightly, after having been chastised at halftime for not playing defense aggressively enough and I remember a fist coming at me, and I instinctively ducked. He missed in his effort to hit me with his right hand -- and I instinctively counterpunched, and I connected with a punch to his face. And then total mayhem broke out."
The benches cleared; Krause went into an embryonic position to try to protect himself from kicking Duke players; Waters got so mad that he grabbed UNC freshman coach Ken Rosemond by the lapels and pushed him up against the scorer's table; and Heyman (who finished with 35 points) ended up needing stitches.
But that freshman fracas ended up serving as only the undercard for the following year's Brawl at Cameron -- the one that saw Heyman and UNC's Larry Brown and Donnie Walsh ultimately suspended for the rest of the ACC season after a 10-minute melee.
"There's no doubt there have been a lot of things that fed into the rivalry," Waters said, "but that fanned the flames."
Pickeral: Freshmen play a key role in Duke-North Carolina
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donbosco
Legend of ZZL
- Messages
- 5,492
“Today, I reflect with a full heart and endless gratitude.
Being the first Puerto Rican Harlem Globetrotter is more than a title — it’s a responsibility, an honor, and a lifelong dream that began on day one, traveling the world playing the game I love. Through every city, every court, and every crowd, I carried more than a basketball… I carried my family, my culture, and the Puerto Rican flag with pride.
The Globetrotters are celebrating 100 years today, and to know that my journey is part of this historic legacy humbles me beyond words. This game has given me the chance to connect with people from all walks of life, to embrace incredible personalities along the way, and most importantly, to bring smiles to faces across the world.
Basketball opened doors, but love, joy, and respect kept them open. Every laugh, every autograph, every moment shared with fans reminded me why I started — to inspire, to uplift, and to represent where I come from with honor.
To my family, thank you for the sacrifices and unconditional support. To the Globetrotter family, thank you for believing in me. And to everyone who cheered, smiled, and shared in the journey — this is for you.
From Puerto Rico to the world… always with pride.
Harlem Globetrotters”