Claire in that notebook of hers:
There they were -- facing the world that couldn’t help staring back.
No way was this just another season.
Davidson Basketball defies definition.
It’s the busload of residents from the Pines who don’t miss a home game. The huge group of kids from Davidson Elementary who took over the topmost bleachers and showed us in the student section how real cheers are done. D-Block, with permanent courtside seats, never missing an opportunity to taunt the visiting fans and bench unfortunate enough to be in front of them, who dance unabashedly and are the loudest in the place -- “Hoo-ha, Davidson, say hoo-ha Davidson!” -- through all this becoming more lovable than obnoxious. It’s the ever-present pep band that keeps us pumped up and clapping to the fight song that hardly anybody actually knows. It’s my friends who make me laugh and chuckle at me, who I turn to when I’m happy or frustrated. The sixty plus people who smushed in front of the Union TV to form a family, screaming and cheering our unbelievable come-from-behind victory at UNCG. It’s Kilgo and Kosmalski, radio duo extraordinaire, who have uttered lines for the ages and invited Chambers the yard dog into the building many a time. The amusing passion of alums and students on the DavidsonCats discussion board, who sit at their office desks frantically typing their joys, opinions, frustrations to share. It’s John, Pam, Cathy, Jackie, the staff at Commons, the Den, the laundry, post office, physical plant … all of them who encourage the guys during the day and still come to the night games after a long day of work to cheer them on. It’s the boys themselves, grateful, focused, humble, and hard-working, each individual personality essential to the whole. They gel on the court the way we all should outside this loud, yet cozy arena: supporting each other, working together, recognizing the joy in it. It’s their coach, the most gracious of them all.
I fit in here somewhere too. In about the second to top row behind the basket, eternally on my feet, clapping and chanting, emitting choppy profanities that my mouth apparently finds necessary to exclaim, muttering under my breath to these talented men like I’m their mother (“don’t you dare screw this up -- ”), standing next to Joe and the other ’08 boys who are as close to the sports-loving men of my family as I could ever want at Belk Arena or clutching Elizabeth for dear life. I have a place here, cheering alone as people join in, yelling these names --
There will be two more Davidson basketball teams in my years here, but this one has no equal. They make us proud. Proud of their work and accomplishments, yes, but proud of the community that we all come from. They come from us, as we come from them. That’s what Davidson is, I think; we create each other, appreciate each other, take joy in each other. And it’s not just students; it’s those who used to be students, teachers, elders, children, staff, players, coaches …
We all know that this transcends sports.
It is a reflection of what we have here, our leafy green, red-bricked, blue-skied home in North Carolina. Life joining with life.
Which is why when we sing
SWEET CAROLINE, OH-OH-OH,
GOOD TIMES NEVER SEEMED SO GOOD
(SO GOOD! SO GOOD! SO GOOD!)
We sing it loud.
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