It’s tough to put into words, but the K in Duke basketball says I must try.
I shall forever remember exactly where I was in 1987, at the age of six, when I first popped the question to my Duke basketball fanatic father: “When will the Blue Devils win a national championship?”
His response? “Never. But hey, they won it all in soccer last year, so we’ll just have to be content with that.”
Yet Dad didn’t actually give a hoot about soccer. So neither did I.
Rather, he remained, understandably, in the ultra-pessimistic stage of recovery from the No. 1 seed Duke basketball squad’s heartbreak at the hands of No. 2 seed Louisville in the final minute of the 1986 title game. The way Dad figured it back then, if his all-time favorite Blue Devil, Johnny Dawkins, wasn’t able to deliver a Dukie’s dream come true, then no players ever would.
And even though Dad had taped every Duke basketball tournament game ever since VHS had become a common thing several years prior, he vowed that day to never in his life let me see how that loss to Louisville went down. Actually, he did allow for one way out of his rule: the Blue Devils had to somehow one day finalize their own “One Shining Moment.”
Now, let me tell you about my follow-up questions that filled the rest of our father-son chat that evening, or at least as I remember it.
In what was the start of my first season as a real-deal follower of the “Duke” word that I’d heard my father screaming about since I was in his wife’s womb, all I initially wanted to learn more about was that intense man with the weird last name I’d seen constantly yelling from the bench.
Really, all I wanted was a sense of hope to begin my shared fandom with Dad. And that Blue Devil leader I had noticed sure seemed to radiate exactly that.
So at that point, my Dad’s eyes lit up, for he was most eager to begin the history lesson that I had finally begun asking for on my own:
- “Mike Krzyzewski is his name.”
- “Learn to spell it.”
- “Learn to pronounce it.”
- “He’s only 40 years old.”
- “He’s brilliant.”
- “He’s our only chance.”
A chance? So you’re saying there’s a chance? A chance at what exactly?…
Sad Duke basketball tears
It didn’t take long for me to figure out what Dad was talking about in regard to Mike Krzyzewski’s mastermind.
That spring in 1988, after notching a 3-0 sweep against UNC and winning the ACC Tournament, Duke returned to the Final Four. I vividly remember my brother, who was too cool of an eight-year-old to put away his LEGO set and study those guys in blue with me and Dad, laughed at me with his buddy as my eyes swelled at the sight of Blue Devils ending their pursuit with a loss to Kansas.
Side note: My brother and that kid both ended up going to NC State years later; in other words, to this day, they just don’t understand what it means to root for a champion.
The next season, 1988-89, a similar scenario played out in the ever-loud Giles house. Duke reached the Final Four but lost to Seton Hall. I cried. Brother laughed.
Again, however, Dad proved to have my back.
By this time, he and I were all-out bonding while sharing the journey to what we then both had no choice in our hearts but to believe in: the utter Duke basketball greatness on the horizon with Coach K adapting and growing wiser…
Hopeful Duke basketball tears
In 1990, UNLV temporarily put us Duke basketball optimists in our place. That, of course, was to the tune of a 103-73 romp, which still stands as the NCAA’s all-time largest margin in the championship bout.
No problem. Although I had held naively ambitious sights leading up to that night, I understood then that the Runnin’ Rebels were the equivalent of a pro collection. Plus, I couldn’t much complain when considering the Blue Devils had just reached the Final Four in each of my first three seasons as a soul-on-the-line fan.
At that stage in my learning, I knew that was a big deal. More importantly, I had learned enough to know for certain that, despite the naysayers in the media pointing to some monkey that Duke’s young treasure couldn’t get off his back, Mike Krzyzewski must still hold the key to the promised land.
And I was slowly learning not to let my brother’s pointed laughter ruin any stops along the ride.
We should all know what happened next, but here’s a hint: it forced my brother to temporarily hop on the Duke basketball bandwagon…
Happy Duke basketball tears
What happened in 1991? National champs, two days after exacting revenge on a UNLV program that hadn’t lost in more than a year. 1992? Back-to-back champs.
A Duke basketball dynasty. A bonafide blueblood powerhouse. A ridiculous amount of hate from jealous outsiders.
Following humbling L’s in the 1994 and 1999 title games, Mike Krzyzewski and his fellas brought home the goods again in 2001 via more Final Four magic.
In 2004, a Final Four trip came up a bit short.
Yet six years after that, the Blue Devils — who were all the equivalent of little brothers in my then-29-year-old eyes — again took scissors to April nets, thanks in large part to an insanely trustworthy senior guard named Jon Scheyer acting as an extension of Coach K on the court.
Fast forward five more years to 2015. Yup, it happened once more, but this time with Scheyer in the role of assistant under his mentor.
And so that marked the fifth title since Dad had tried to initially flatline my lifelong Duke basketball expectations roughly 28 years beforehand.
True, this particular type of pure joy hasn’t arrived again ever since. In fact, the Blue Devils haven’t even been back to the Final Four.
Shame on Krzyzewski for that, right? Wrong.
Yes, even if the 74-year-old Hall of Famer goes winless next season in what will be his farewell tour before Scheyer takes the reins, non-bandwagon Duke basketball fans — no matter their current age — surely have plenty to credit him for in their own individual lives…
Mike Krzyzewski’s Duke basketball life lessons
Had I never become fascinated by the leadership and unmatched determination that I witnessed as a child in Mike Krzyzewski, there’s no telling what I’d be doing for a living these days. I’m not sure exactly what I’d be most passionate about.
I suspect I’d really regret turning out too much like my brother.
I probably wouldn’t have seen any key source of inspiration to hone my writing skills so that I could adequately express myself in this manner here.
I doubt I would have felt the need to earn good enough grades in high school to get into Duke. With that in mind, later on, I likely wouldn’t have ever accepted that the only reason I cared about getting into the school in the first place was to follow in Dad’s footsteps as a Cameron Crazie (though in his days there, Cameron Indoor Stadium’s student section had yet to adopt that name).
Rewinding in time, while growing up in North Carolina, I wouldn’t have experienced the thrill from winning arguments against the mobs of classmates who had always seemed to pick up some complete nonsense at home from their bozo UNC dads (we have one persistent troll in the comment section here at Ball Durham who, I suspect, was dealt this unfortunate hand in life).
I wouldn’t have so consistently held bragging rights on the bus over NC State fans and the likes.
Without watching Coach K’s interviews — or listening alongside Dad to him on the radio back in the early days — I wouldn’t have learned from the best how to have thick skin.
And, naturally, without watching Coach K direct so many magical moments — replay Christian Laettner vs. Kentucky in 1992, Duke vs. Maryland in 2001, Tre Jones vs. UNC in 2020, etc. — I wouldn’t possess such a deep belief in miracles…
The ultimate Duke basketball tears to come
Continuing for a minute with the theme of Mike Krzyzewski-related miracles, look no further than the fact that Dad and I, who habitually butt heads due to God creating our noggins with an overabundance of matching parts, still manage to get along with each other.
Actually, without our Duke basketball bond, I have to wonder if Dad would have tried to convince Mom to put me and all of my incessant opinions up for adoption at some point in the early 90s. He definitely would’ve had my brother’s vote.
Now, I’m old enough — this month, I turn 40, which is the same age as Coach K when my Duke basketball interest began in 1987 — to accept that my father won’t be around forever. The same goes for Coach K, specifically as a head coach.
That leads me to the most important lesson I’ve learned throughout a Duke basketball fandom that has spanned the five different decades I’ve been on this planet. It’s simple: cherish every moment, both the good and bad, while refusing to ever believe in anything other than greatness on the horizon.
So on that note, consider the stacked recruiting class, the ambitious grad transfers, the solid returning talent, and all the dialed-up emotions in store next season. Indeed, there’s every reason to believe that Coach K will go out on top while every type of tear streams down the face of all the countless followers he’s amassed and deeply impacted over the years.
Will Duke go 40-0? Don’t count on it. Will the Blue Devils sweep the Tar Heels? Lord, let’s hope so. Will they outdo the most elite teams from Coach K’s first 41 years? Well, that’d be a treat. Will they produce one or more specific plays that will forever live in Duke basketball lore? Chances are they will.
ALSO READ: The 100 greatest Blue Devils under Coach K
What we can absolutely trust in, though, is that Coach K will have his guys prepared. Even better, he’ll also have them believing. Meanwhile, Jon Scheyer is certain to continue learning from the GOAT while he can, as he works to fully trust in his own identity as the soon-to-be head man.
Finally, you better believe the overall product will convince some six-year-old boy somewhere to trash his LEGO set and beg his Duke basketball fanatic father for a history lesson. He’ll want to know all about that man with the funny last name plus the sharp sidekick who is gearing up to take his place.
Speaking from experience, no matter the wins and losses that ensue, there’s simply nothing greater than that exact type of connection.
All thanks to Coach K and all the miracles he’s inspired.