Learning to Let Go of Duke Hate

The path to objectivity in sports is winding if you’re able to get there at all. Fandom is inherently personal, whether it’s tied to local pride, a sense of purpose or family tradition, and it’s hard to let things like that go.

For much of my life, I have reveled in Duke hate. My childhood coincided with their rise to success, and the type of people who were drawn to their success were my least favorite type of sports fans. They flocked to kings of the game everywhere they turned; there were few common threads other than wild success to connect Derek Jeter or Kobe Bryant with Mike Krzyzewski.

Therein lies part of the problem I perceived with Duke, and perhaps college programs generally — the star of the operation was a man on the sideline, rather than an unstoppable force between the lines. Sure, the Blue Devils brought in a parade of All-Americans and great college players over the years, from Christian Laettner to Shane Battier, but Coach K was the only constant. As a result, the system and the man in charge were the symbols of the program.

This was problematic on multiple levels. While buying into a system and aspiring to some greater purpose might be fine in a vacuum, the extent to which this epitomized Duke fandom was positively infuriating. Take for example this letter, written to Elton Brand when he had the audacity to capitalize on a National Player of the Year award and championship game appearance by declaring early for the draft:

"As part of our basketball program, you represent Duke as a whole. We are first and foremost an academic school, you clearly did not belong at Duke in the first place if this was the extent of your commitment to Duke and a college education in general. You have not only insulted the current students who are putting in four years at a school they love, but also the thousands of alumni who have realized the value of a Duke education and what an honor and privilege it was to be there for four years.If you do not realize the opportunity you has infront of you to play for Coach K and at the same time attain a Duke diploma, then that is certainly your loss. I just wish that you has spared us the notion that you were continuing in the tradition of being a Duke student-athlete, in emphasizing excellence in both academics and athletics. You will not be considered part of the Duke family, in my mind as well as many others. You have by no means proved yourself worthy of that title."

This was a pervasive attitude in my early experience with Duke fans, as if they were entitled to players like Brand, their attendance alone enough to grant an air of superiority. Rather than appreciation for whatever time they got with a player of Brand’s caliber, hatred festered. It is an attitude I’ve faced as a public school student from elementary through undergrad; allegiance to private institutions is often wielded as a weapon, and Duke was a beacon of these attitudes.

Beyond that, their systemic success and personality (on and off court) stood in contrast to the characters and players I loved at UNC, like Rasheed Wallace and Vince Carter. It was hard as a casual observer to appreciate a program that emphasized the machine over the parts, to praise the whir of the gears rather than seek out singular brilliance. I am naturally drawn to colorful individuals, the stars who stand out among us in sport and everyday life, in some ways because I want to believe in the possibility that we can all be great in our own ways. Coach K’s assembly line felt sterile in comparison to peers.

For years, this made proper evaluation of Duke players impossible. Regardless of talent, it was hard to see past the uglier shade of blue and the history attached to it. When you crave for failure, success is excused away for no good reason.

It is unlikely that I will ever fully let go of my distaste for Duke. I will forever remember cheering for my home state’s Rip Hamilton to topple the Evil Empire in the ’99 title game, the seething rage that washed over me watching Austin Rivers’ improbable 2012 comeback in Chapel Hill, f-bombs echoing off the walls of my college girlfriend’s apartment.

However, the animosity for laundry fades eventually; at least it did for me. Duke may be detestable, but it’s mostly because they continue to win. The program is generally stocked with players who are good at what they do and expected to represent the program with respect. Regardless of where they come from, how they play, they are drawn by the same thing that compels me to write about and scout them — their love for the game of basketball.

With the formal introduction of the one-and-done rule, Coach K saw the landscape shifting and adjusted his recruiting policy. It surely is derived from a desire to compete with peers, but by wooing players using his program as a quick NBA stepping stone, Krzyzewski comes off more like a guide and less like a leech. Because he bears the torch for all that is Duke, his willingness to modernize is admirable, even if his previous achievements would have provided the program with enough cache to remain set in his ways.

More than anything else, it would be a shame to continue disparaging one of the country’s elite programs as a result of childhood perception and fandom. Krzyzewski regularly has some of the most exciting players in the country suit up for his Blue Devils, regardless of where personal biases fall. Brandon Ingram is currently pressing Ben Simmons for the No. 1 spot in this year’s draft, and recent products like Jahlil Okafor, Justise Winslow and Kyrie Irving speak to the talent passing through Cameron Indoor.

Maybe the public school student in me will always reject the blue blood represented by the Blue Devils. But if we can share in love and appreciation for the game, at least we have something.