As the Davidson band played "Sweet Caroline" during Sunday's game against Georgetown, I looked around the RBC Center. Davidson fans, students, parents, alumni -- and even former basketball great, Hobby Cobb -- were on their feet singing enthusiastically. One journalist later labeled this display "corny." But as I scanned the stadium to measure the reaction of the thousands of North Carolina fans in attendance, it seemed to me that they thought it was anything but corny. In fact, I think they were somewhat envious and thought it was pretty cool.
That is what makes Davidson special and unique. Sure, we don't have the same facilities and resources that many of the bigger schools have: we don't have 17 practice courts, or charter planes, or obscene amounts of shoes and apparel. But that is not for everyone. What we do have is players that know our fans and students by name and are proud that we have an anthem to sing (however irrelevant it may be).
Despite being a former player and coach, I was not prepared for how proud I would feel after this weekend. After the Gonzaga game on Friday I raced to the hotel to meet the team. I hugged some of the guys and told them that they had no idea how much the win meant to former players. The older guys -- Boris, Thomas, and Jason -- might have understood a little bit. The freshmen said, "Great, Larry," and went looking for their girlfriends.
As cliche as it sounds, why did this team's success mean so much to me, someone who graduated eight years ago? Why was I tearing up when the final buzzer sounded against Georgetown? I will do my best to articulate it: in January, with many players gathered for Davidson basketball's 100 year anniversary, Coach McKillop talked about dreaming big. He spoke about how he believes Davidson can get back to the heights it reached in the 1960s. While many may think that is impossible, the people at Davidson do not. Therefore, we work very hard: we lift, we run, we play, we fight, and we compete every day of the year -- all while simultaneously working hard in the classroom. While struggling through the rigors of the Davidson academic workload, and playing for Coach McKillop, one is not inclined to make excuses. Home from Georgia Southern at 4 a.m.? So what -- get to class at at 8:30. Up all night studying for a test? Too bad -- practice hard for two and a half hours. Nasty dead-leg to the thigh? Get tougher. We welcome these experiences because we see that goal in the distance: getting back on the national stage. We know that all the hard work -- all the early morning workouts, all the frustrations, all the long, tough practices -- will one day be worth it. But when? We made a small step in 1998 by making the NCAA tourney. Almost had Ohio State in 2002. Gave the Buckeyes another run for their money in 2006. Gave Maryland all they could handle in 2007. Great progress, but still not where we wanted to be. Everyone associated with Davidson basketball --players, coaches, fans, students -- still wanted to take the next step and make some real noise.
So would all the hard work over the years ever be worth it? Would tiny Davidson ever really be able to touch the national scene? Well, I can now tell you that the answer is yes to both questions. This year's team may never fully understand it, but what they have accomplished this year (so far) is a gift to anyone who has ever been involved with Davidson basketball: fans, students, coaches, and players. We all know that Davidson is a special school in a special town and, despite its size and seeming limitations, we have always felt that it can have a very special basketball team.
This is where the feeling of pride came from on Sunday. That is why, when I felt myself tearing up, I did not know if I could articulate my thoughts to anyone. Luckily, I was sitting next to my former teammate and roommate (and soon to be former Davidson career assist leader), Ali Ton, and when I saw the emotion on his face, I knew that he did not need an explanation. When I left my seat and went out into the hallways of the RBC Center and saw the students and fans cheering, high-fiving, chest-bumping, and singing the fight song, I again realized that no explanation was necessary. The Davidson people understood it: against long odds our team accomplished a near miracle.
So as Davidson heads to the Sweet Sixteen and maybe (gasp!) the Final Four, my pride will not dissipate. And if I find myself being envious of other schools' resources, facilities, or the size of their fan base, I will think back to this weekend and remember that I would rather be singing "Sweet Caroline" with Hobby Cobb any day of the week.
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