Today is March 17th. The clocks have sprung forward, and conference tournaments have come and gone. A storm front blew through the Triangle yesterday evening, carrying with it damaging wind gusts and plummeting temperatures. The wildflowers we planted two weekends ago may be toast; we won’t know until they fail to push through the topsoil. The tall, spindly pine trees near the house, thankfully, are not — at least not yet.
As I sit here at my desk, tapping away at my keyboard to the haunting whistle
of the wind past my window, I can feel the madness settling in. Not Poe’s madness, not quite; perhaps a cousin. A special kind of mania, of giddy anticipation mixed with more than a little trepidation at the way this tale unfolds for every team save one. The story that I am writing, that we are all writing together, balances on a knife’s edge, all of us desperately wanting another chapter while simultaneously knowing each one could be the last.
It could all be over too soon. It only takes one loss to end a season in shambles; one mistake to close the door permanently on these people in this place. Change is the only constant in college basketball these days; Seth Trimble, the four-year Tar Heel, was held up as an example by some folks, a beacon of loyalty and care for the University we all love. For others, he was doubtlessly seen as a fossil, a relic from a distant past in which players could be counted on to stick around and grow within a given program. Now, with the players deservedly granted more agency, the sport has tilted on its axis, and programs are forced to build programs and rosters on shifting sands; yesterday’s roster is not today’s roster, and tomorrow’s will be more different still. There are a few grains left in the hourglass that is this Tar Heel basketball season; it’s impossible to tell how many. Hell, it could only be one.
All it takes is one, though, to stave off that not-too-far future. One big shot, one defensive stop. One game-winning play, one good stretch of Carolina basketball. One guy, giving everything he has to lift up his team and survive for one more round. Win that one, then win the next one, and before you know it you’ve only got one more to win. It happened in 2022. It took one shot to knock the life out of Duke in that Final Four, and you’ll never convince me that the Heels weren’t just one rolled ankle away from another national title. It takes playing one possession at a time, living and breathing with the ticking of the clock, but someone has to step up when the lights are the brightest. Who’s going to be the one?
This is a cruel, brutal, beloved tournament; for every team but one, it ends in tears. But to be in the field, to get to watch your team in the dance? That’s a special thing, and we should cherish it for as long as it lasts. The season continues for the Tar Heels; for how long will come down to one simple thing. Can they put it together?
If they can, there’s One Shining Moment waiting for them.
