I never thought of myself as a basketball fan. My favorite NBA team in elementary school was whichever my best friend Margaret liked (which explains why one of my first-grade homework assignments was titled, "Why I like being Catholic and Irish"). My favorite NBA team in middle school was the one with Bugs Bunny and Michael Jordan. My favorite team in high school was the Harlem Globetrotters, who I believed had a monopoly on professional basketball championships.
I never thought of myself as a basketball fan, even though my cousins are die-hard true Terps fans. I spent many a family-gathering trying to B.S. my way through the inevitable basketball-themed discussion.
Cousin: "Oh man, did you watch last night's game? So-and-so dunked on what's-his-face and it was amazing!"
Winnie: "I did witness the event you are describing. I also enjoyed the goal that took place late in the fourth quarter. What a great hit. I was thoroughly elated to observe the ritualistic, celebratory mating calls of the winning squad."
Those B.S. skills are what make me a great English major (read: Those B.S. skills are what make me a great English major but a bad government major).
I never thought of myself as a basketball fan, until I came to the grand University of Virginia. More specifically, I never thought of myself as a basketball fan until my last and final year here at the University. I didn't know we had a basketball team until this year. I didn't even know we had a stadium until the school announced the grand opening of John Paul Jones Arena (which I thought was named after a pope, perfect for my Irish Catholic background).
There was something about this last magical year. Perhaps it was attending my first college basketball game, ironically enough against Maryland. I remember watching the CGI special effects on the big screen, showing Cav Man utterly eviscerating a giant turtle. Then flames shot from the court floor (clearly not in violation of the fire code, because God only knows why paper taped to a wall can catch fire but exploding flames near wood and people are fine). Fireworks blew up in the ceiling of JPJ and a fog machine shrouded the locker room entrance as the 2006-07 men's basketball team sprinted out!
My love for Virginia basketball only flourished, thanks in large part to the women's team. Friends and I attended home games with clever cheers to shout out.
"Rob the ball, Robertson!"
"Not so Littles!"
"Make the Wright shot!"
The cheers were almost as clever as a friend's campaign slogan for middle school treasurer. "Make the rice choice. Vote for Katie Tong." Needless to say, her campaign never quite recovered from her macaca-misstep. Thankfully, she was running unopposed.
My love of Virginia basketball, though momentarily crushed by the women's loss to Maryland, rebounded (clever use of basketball term that I learned this year) with Virginia's fourth seed in this year's NCAA men's basketball tournament. I was torn between my love and undying faith in Virginia basketball, faith that had only been encouraged by a miracle win over Duke (what you get when you name an arena after a pope -- God's love), and my belief in reality. I put Virginia down as a team destined for the Sweet 16 in my bracket, but on television, I prophesized its loss to Tennessee.
As I sat in Alderman Café, trying to write my senior paper and praying to John Paul Jones for a win, I shed tears of orange and blue as Tennessee stabbed me in the heart with its bright "T." The seconds ticked by and I could only hold my breath and visualize Sean Singletary's sweaty and manly arms following through on those free throws. Unfortunately, it wasn't enough. Tennessee pulled away with a win and a piece of my heart.
This, however, is not the end of my love for Virginia basketball. Dave Leitao, you are a man of many talents (an attractive man of many talents). Debbie Ryan, you are also a woman of many talents, and despite your tiny, Polly Pocket size, you are even more attractive than Dave. To all the Virginia fans, I expect many more appearances in the NCAA Tournament. Godspeed (another shout-out to JPJ).
Winnie's column runs biweekly on Mondays. She can be reached at chao@cavalierdaily.com.
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