My roommate and GameDay editor, Joey Mancini, went to the men's basketball media day two weeks ago and came back gushing. He saw the control new coach Dave Leitao has on the team and the faith the players have in the program. Players talked candidly about themselves, the new program and the off-season training regimens, where the team wakes up every day at 6 a.m. to practice and work out. Joey came back with stories upon stories that sucked me right back into believing in the inevitable rise of Virginia basketball.
And it's not that I shouldn't believe -- I want to, I really do. It's just that I've been down this road before. I lived through the good times and the bad, and, with a new season, new coach and new program upon us, I need to reflect on my Virginia past before I can look to the future.
Growing up a college basketball fan in North Carolina, there was only one decision to make. North Carolina or Duke? Yeah, you could side with State or Wake Forest, but you wouldn't be taken seriously, like an annoying younger sibling. So growing up a Virginia fan? You wouldn't even be considered a family member.
But, despite that fact, I had no choice but to become a Wahoo fan. Both my parents were at the University back when basketball mattered. So, instead of hearing bedtime stories about Peter Rabbit, I got stories about Ralph, Parkhill and Holland. Okay, I lied. I got Peter Rabbit, but, more importantly, I got Ralph.
I spent the majority of my childhood answering to unusually demanding kids about why I didn't like either UNC or Duke. I defended Jeff Jones like Isiah Thomas defends all of his personnel moves: over and over again. And yet, I never wavered. I believed in the inevitable rise to greatness the 1992 NIT Championship ensured. That overtime thriller is one of my first memories of watching the Cavaliers, and, invariably, I was hooked. I could only imagine how it would get once we made the NCAAs.
I remember exactly where I was when I learned Virginia had beaten No. 1 seed Kansas in 1995 to reach the Elite Eight: the Charlotte-Douglas Airport. Sure, I found out by reading USA Today because I wasn't allowed to stay up to watch the game, but boy was I proud when I found out. I stuck out my chest, pulled the brim of my Chase Matheney-autographed Virginia hat down and ruled as the King of Gate C.
The inevitable rise never came, however. I entered middle school on the down years of the Jeff Jones era, forced to endure snail-paced basketball that did not work, all while having my nose rubbed in Carolina and Duke blue.
But then there came hope: high school and a new Gillenium. Pete Gillen was able to utilize athletes like Adam Hall, Chris Williams and Donald Hand. They flew down the court, forced turnovers and scored in bunches. I even had Keith Friel to idolize.
The times, they were a'changing. We got THAT class: Travis Watson, Roger Mason, Jr. and Majestic Mapp. All of sudden, we were beating Duke at home and Carolina on the road. I remember the biggest Tar Heel fan I knew remarking in awe, "Travis Watson is a bear." And he was my bear. I brought back the Matheney hat.
And then March 2001 happened. I had a feeling Gonzaga would be the best No. 12 seed ever. But it was okay, I had faith. Being from North Carolina, I was able to follow the score on TV at school. When the producers finally switched to the game, I watched as Mason, Jr. drove the length of the court and short-armed a kiss off the glass. The thud I heard was my heart. I was Andy Dufresne, standing in the courtroom, receiving two life sentences for murdering two people I didn't kill.
I endured the rest of the Gillen era, a roller coaster unto itself. The highs got rarer, the double-digit road losses to Clemson more frequent. I began to slip. The Bob Knight-esque tirades over losses became fewer and even my arrival at the University couldn't change my gloomy outlook. I had become the typical supportive yet apathetic basketball fan.
So where does this leave me today? Back to defending my choice of Virginia over any North Carolina school. Back to yearning for the belief that the inevitable rise to greatness still is inevitable.
Coach Leitao, please help. Bring back our belief in Virginia basketball. I've got the Matheney hat waiting.
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