To start this post, I need to come clean; this post has nothing to do with beliefs, business, or baseball. Call it what you will (a non-related post perhaps?) but I need to put down some thoughts as I get back from my last home Wake basketball game.
I can remember growing up waiting to come to Wake. I was able to attend a few games in middle and high school and those times will always be looked upon as wonderful moments in my childhood. The rocking, loud, and tie-dye clad student section awed me as I vowed to one day carry on the Screamin Demon ethos. That day has now officially come and gone, and I now face watching the games online or on TV as I will be no longer a Wake student. Do not get me wrong, I will be back in the Joel at some point. But not with such regularity, not in the same section, and not with such dear friends.
So what is it about Wake basketball that made the drive back to Wake silent as three friends sat in sadness and reflection on the past four years? What about saying goodbye to friends and fellow passionate Wake fans- not to mention that last look into the Joel- makes life seem so sad? I posit that it is not the actual sport, the physical building, the players, or the history of Wake basketball. Do all those play a part? Of course they have their place in the experience, but I think it comes down to the community.
Wake is a small school, especially compared to ACC rivals. The phrase "LOWF" (Little Ole Wake Forest) is a thing simply because of the tight knit, close community. There is certainly a sense of pride about playing David to UNC or Maryland or FSU's Goliath. Beating bigger schools just feels like a bigger deal. Even more than that, community is built around friends. Part of the reason I am sad is because I am thinking about all the great times I have had with my buddies. Camping out last year has led to more stories and jokes than I care to think. Waiting in line together for hours and hours and hours, just talking about sports or life or our hundreds of inside jokes. Seeing Bobby Hoekstra hitting a hook shot and going crazy even though we were up by 30. Rushing the court twice (not to mention once in high school) and being caught up in a collective frenzy. All the high fives, hugs, and jumping up and down cheering together, united in solidarity for something larger than just one person. Also, the sad times. Hearing about Coach Prosser's death and crying with my sister and mother. Not seeing us win a conference game last year (I missed the one ACC win) but still getting WAY too optimistic about each game. Or simply the quiet, tear-filled drive back from a hard fought loss in our final home game.
What more is there to say? This feeling sucks. Michael Scott (Steve Carell) said it perfectly on The Office. Goodbyes hurt. But it hurts because the thought of leaving this wonderful community, both large and small, is tough. The happy times make it bittersweet and the bittersweet hurts like hell. My buddies and I have had some great times together at Wake games, but the metaphor of basketball and community is going to live on as we move our separate ways, forever united by the game of life and shared experiences.
Go Deacs!
On a personal note, thank you to all my friends, family, and Wake players who have made this four year ride worth every second. For some of us, it feels like the end, but for others who have years left at Wake (I am looking at you, John Walsh) I give to you this command: carry on the Wake basketball passion. I look forward to hearing great things about the packed and rowdy student section next year!
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