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Although I can dance with myself and have plenty of times, and I once danced for 12 straight hours in eighth grade sweating through four shirts, and I suspect you’ve danced with yourself from time to time, I would rather dance this Saturday with Parking Lot Parker and Cam Stamina and Hunter Games Sallas and Andrew Star Carr and Efton Do The Deed Reid at the best prom any of us have ever been to, the most gargantuan of rallies, the groove dance unlike any other, the March Madness tourney, the Senior Prom beyond all other Senior Proms, The Biggest Dance any of us have ever fantasized about going to.
You say fine, wishful thinking isn’t against the law, but how are they going to get to the Senior Prom given Joey Buckets still has the power to set them on the guillotine and chop them out of the tourney, send them to college basketball Siberia otherwise known as the wasteland called Last Four Out, if they drop too many winnable games in the next few weeks?
Answer: Beat Duke on Saturday. This won’t be the day to dance with themselves. They need to dance with others. Play hard. And harder. Get the pulsations going, expanding and elongating for rebounds, playing harder and harder defense, getting bigger and bigger in the biggest moments, going inside, going outside, going inside again, finding their rhythms and concentrating, focusing, stroking threes all in one unified motion.
Keeping the pressure high, the heartbeat thumping faster. Inside, outside, and then, and then in one gigantic volcano-like eruption, stuff the ball in the basket, explode with the slam dunks, see stars, wonder what’s going on physically, and declare victory.
We need this sort of climactic day on Saturday. We need a tension release. Unloading stress is healthy.
Duke, you see, is not our favorite opponent. They stress us out, get us all repressed and worried and in need of physical and psychological outlets to let it all out. They pummel us usually and it doesn’t feel good to get pummeled. They pulsate on us; they get all built up, drive hard to the basket, and explode in unison with all other Wake fans in the stands. We need to do that to them, pummel them so they know what it feels like to get pulsated on, to get pummeled, to be erupted on in one full-on euphoric outburst.
Duke needs to lose and drive home back to the doldrums of Durham with their heads down feeling sad and drenched and unfulfilled and riddled with self-doubt and wondering if elitism is all everybody says it is and if dancing with themselves is worth the effort. Duke needs to come into Joel, watch Parking Lot drain threes from the Parking Lot, go back to the parking lot, get on the team bus, and contemplate what it means to lose because they need to lose more. They need to drive out of that parking lot feeling forlorn, flummoxed, and impotent in need of something they can’t get, a feeling beyond their grasp. And back at Duke dance with themselves to “Dancing With Myself”:
This is what needs to happen on Saturday at the Joel for the Deacs. Roll out of the parking lot to the prom all decked out in alternating gold and black striped tuxedos, strutting, all built up and rising in feelings, each one escorting a prom Queen, ascending to the destination, the emotional pinnacle, a blissful place, the March Madness tourney.
And when the Madness tourney begins start the whole emotional build-up all over again.
Rinse, repeat.
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Sammy Sportface, a sports blogger, galvanizes, inspires, and amuses The Baby Boomer Brotherhood. And you can learn about his vision and join this group's Facebook page here:
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