UNC Basketball: A Blizzard, A Snowfight, And Truly Witnessing Something Special

It was January 27th, 2000.  Carolina had lost four straight, none of which were in especially fantastic fashion, and were in danger of a five game losing streak for the first time in almost 45 years.  We were years away from McCants and Felton and a couple of years removed from Jameson and Carter.  We hadn’t hit rock bottom, but it was fairly rare territory for the program.

A few days before, it snowed 20 inches in 24 hours.  In standard responsible college student fashion, my friends and I took the respite from class to attend to our civil duties of snow removal (started a 400+ person snowball fight) and may or may not (did) lead the assault on Ehringhouse Field.  Eighty students with snowballs in hand charging across the field at a small group of underclassmen playing snow football.  I’ll admit, snow brings out the worst in us.

It also brings out the best in us.  The collective “us”.  Initially the game was pushed back a day, but the roads were still treacherous by North Carolina standards (pretty standard mid-June stuff to upstate New Yorkers), and attendance would surely be sparse.  Would they open up the empty seats to general admission?  Free for all style scramble to good seats?  One could certainly dream.

I showed up to the Dean E Smith Center with the same band of upstanding citizens mentioned before.  We watched the first 5 minutes of the first half, and then moved down from the upper deck to the concourse and began milling around.  Along with everyone else.  What we didn’t see was Maryland overcoming an early drought and going on a run that put the home Heels down 11.  Then came the announcement we were waiting for.  What was actually said has been lost in the 12 years since, but I remember it being something along the lines of “Aaaaannnndddddd GO!”  Go we did.

The bottom bowl filled up in seconds by a tidal surge of students getting closer to a basketball game than we had ever imagined.  It was ecstasy.  And then I looked up at the scoreboard from two rows behind Gary Williams and noticed the score.  Well, we have work to do.  And I do mean “WE”.

Carolina closed to six by the half, and there was an electric feel in the air.  Immediately after the half, we set in on Gary, reminding him every few seconds that he sucks.  The cheering and the noise level was unrelenting.  They weren’t going to lose, because we weren’t going to lose.  Capel, Peppers, Haywood.  They believed.  So did we.

When Carolina went on a 14 point run, we took it up another notch.  When Maryland whittled the lead down to two, we all came together.  When seven-foot center Haywood found himself guarding Terp PG Steve Blake in transition, he got down in a defensive stance, clapped his hands and we went nuts.  When he stopped two drives and forced Blake to pass out, we went ballistic.  And when we were trudging back to Connor dorm through the frigid temperatures and snow drifts, we talked about the experience.

This game is the game that set off a period of improved play and an eventual loss in the Final Four to Florida.

So to all the students who have enjoyed sitting in the risers, you’re welcome.  And to all the students that missed it, know you missed one of the truly amazing Carolina games.  It was the kind of game my friends and I bring up when we get together.  It was the kind of game you look forward to calling your buddy John when you decide to write a column about it.  And it was the kind of game you love going back over with said buddy to try to sort out the mythical from the factual.  I’m still not sure how to-the-letter accurate my memory of the game is, and for any factual inaccuracies, I do sincerely apologize.  But to me and John, that’s the way it was.