When I got accepted early into Duke, I could not pronounce “Krzyzewski”—let alone spell it.
My friend had told me some kid named Jabari was going to be in my class. I said “great” and pretended I knew who he was. The only Duke basketball game I have attended at Cameron was last year’s game against UNC—a disappointing loss.
In short, basketball has not had a direct impact on my Duke undergraduate experience.
I would argue that for an increasing number of students each year, basketball is not the defining reason that makes or breaks their decision to apply to Duke. While people weren’t paying attention, Duke became a top-ten school: one that can thrive without the athletic or social appeal of a state school.
With an increasing number of facilities such as the West Union, Student Health Building, Arts Building and university-defining programs like DukeEngage, Bass Connections and the Focus Program, Duke unequivocally has built an undergraduate experience worthy of a top-ten institution.
I would conclude that with this academic and social development, Duke as an institution does not need basketball. But that conclusion would ignore the true indirect impact that Duke basketball has on the Duke Community. So while Duke as an institution might not need basketball, Duke as a place of community and personal growth certainly does.
Without a doubt, Duke basketball helps build quintessential school spirit in an awe inspiring and natural way, which is something other more constructed methods have failed to do. There is no doubt in my mind that Duke basketball creates a certain sense of belonging for every member of the Duke community. This belonging does not require applications, interviews or rush to enter, but is defined only by one’s willingness to commit to believing in Coach K, his team and a love for Duke basketball.
Take tenting, for example. While the process surely can be miserable at some points in time, it allows students to maintain and strengthen friendships. Tenting as a process cannot function if every individual has the same schedule. As a result, it encourages the development of diverse friendships that might have otherwise died out.
There is something magical about the burning of the benches after a victory against UNC. This magic does originate in the defeat itself. There are many teams we beat each year, but this tradition creates a unique moment in which every member of the Duke community shares a common interest and happiness.
I worry for the future of our school and what might be a disappointing crossroads.
I recently watched last week’s game against NC State. When the final score proclaimed NC State the victor, the commentator mentioned that this game was our first loss against NC State at home since 1995. The last time we had lost to NC State on home turf was also when Coach K had been unable to coach due to back problems.
What struck me most about this fact was that the last time we lost to NC State at home, I, a senior at Duke, was not yet born. Our streak against NC State at home has literally lasted my lifetime.
I recognize that this one defeat does not reflect the current state of the program. After all, the current team is still incredible despite setbacks, including injuries both to players and to Coach K. This loss pushed me to reflect on how long Coach K has been at Duke and how much I have taken his program and Duke basketball’s impact on campus for granted.
This impact extends beyond just the personal. Regardless of Duke’s success as an institution, Duke basketball influences almost every sphere of Duke. The Chronicle is dominated by articles related to the team, Duke Alumni is defined by their continued dedication to the sport and each spring the student body commits to living in tents for the sake of a single game.
With such an influence, a question remains: what will happen to Duke basketball without its god? What happens when Coach K finally leaves?
Duke is unique in its position as a top-ten institution. Few other elite private universities boast such a stellar academic record while maintaining a top-notch athletic program. However, it is my fear that Coach K has propelled Duke basketball beyond expectations. That without him, the spirit of Duke will be changed.
Is Coach K’s legacy enough to carry on this intangible spirit of Duke basketball as well as its history, tradition and culture? Or does Coach K’s inevitable retirement mark the decline of the program? The question then becomes: does the magic of Duke basketball belong to the university, or to Coach K?
There are those who reassure me that Coach K has plans in place and that plenty of universities maintain stellar basketball programs without such a coach. Duke basketball will not die completely without Coach K. But I worry that it might lose that special spark—the one that unites this campus as a whole and provides a collective sense of community.
To echo a friend of mine, “There is no replacement for Duke basketball.” I trust those words. The question then remains: if we cannot replace Duke basketball, what happens when the Blue Devils eventually arrive at this crossroads? I wish I had an answer or a way to preserve the current spirit. However, we should not ignore the issue at hand. I believe this provides all the more reason that we seek to give thought to the inevitable and find our way through.
George Mellgard is a Trinity senior. His column, “esse quam videri,” runs on alternate Wednesdays.
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