The Sanbox

True story: Two or three weeks ago, I was walking through the Sanford parking lot on a Saturday. A smallish, dark-haired man decked out in Duke athletic gear got out of an SUV parked near the athletic building. He looked familiar, but I couldn’t quite place him. So I just kept walking.

Then I heard it, and I knew I could never retell this story around my classmates (And of course—here I am, telling you now). I heard a woman’s voice ask, “Coach, can I get a picture with you?”

I awkwardly glanced back and saw Coach K taking a picture hastily with the woman and her young son before power walking into the building. I know no one saw me, but I felt myself turning red as a tomato. I admit that I have no idea what takes place on a basketball court. But Coach K is an icon—how could I call myself a Blue Devil?

Tuesday night was no different. I half-heartedly watched the first few minutes of K’s record-setting game up here in The Chronicle office, but then I went back to my dorm to do homework and watch Netflix. But when I checked Facebook and saw my news feed coated with congratulatory 903 statuses—albeit a couple hours after the fact—and smiled.

I know that people attach great importance to 903 and Coach Kyrzesfg…Krzevzks….Kzyrzkew…however you spell it. College basketball is important to a lot of people, just not to me. Still, I wear my Duke t-shirts with pride. I’ve waited in line for several hours to squeeze into Cameron. I may not have come to Duke for basketball (I’m positive there are people who fall into that category), but I appreciate the school spirit. And I won’t forget that K set this record during my sophomore year because everyone was talking about it—even people like me, who never grow tired of philosophical conversations about the pointlessness of college athletics.