Cameron Crazies: Just Stop It

On Tuesday night, the Duke Blue Devils defeated the Kelvin Sampson-led Indiani Hoosiers 54-51 at Cameron Indoor Stadium. If you are male and between the ages of 18-34, you likely watched this game, perhaps due to a genuine interest in college hoops, but more likely on account of the well known medical condition made famous by the story in Time Magazine entitled, "Area Man's Sack Spontaneously Combusts." As we all know, less than two hours of ESPN viewing a day will cause your ballz to shrivel and, shortly thereafter, spontaneously combust.

I watched this game, party out of fear, but mostly because I hate Duke. I only know a few people who attended the prestigiously private University in the South on Tobacco Road, and none of them were the type of Dukey who would take a bullet for Coach Shushefski. If the animosity I feel toward Duke basketball (men's) doesn't stem from annoying friends incessantly jumping mere inches off the ground throughout home games, chanting really "clever" crap at opposing players, and camping outside Cameron Indoor Stadium, then what is it?

Well, take the "annoying friend" away and there you have it: I can't stand the fans. I'm sure that if I hadn't hit that 1500th bowl junior year of highschool, or decided it was a good idea to smoke a victory stoagie on the 9th hole of Yale Golf Course and subsequently get suspended from the varisty golf team, I probably could have gone to Duke (I probably could have used a few hundred points on the ole' SAT, as well). But fuck them, my alma mater is a well-oiled football machine, churing out NFL-ready QB's like we're ... uh, some company that produces quality goods on a regular basis. So, Dukies, how many football games have you rocket scientists lost in a row? 18? I mean, who's counting.

Okay, so if I went to Duke, I might have camped out for a fortnight or two in Shushefski-village waiting to get my tix and, hopefully, simultaneously fellate Duke's own "Dear Leader." The more likely situation, though, is that I would have played 15 straight games of Beirut (I'm that good), demanded that Phish be played on the house stereo, eaten a block of America's Choice Sharp Cheddar and ended the night with 36 holes of Mario Golf and several tubes.

(Ir)regardless, the point here is that Duke fans drive me crazy. I mean, we get it; you're all bright, intelligent, rich, white kids from the suburbs (that's not necessarily a bad thing, ahem) who like basketball. Fine. The chants you guys have are actually pretty cool; that shit gets passed down from class to class and all. Great. I have no problem with this.

(As an aside, I must admit that I'm insanely jelous of people who went to schools with either football or basketball programs that are awesome. My school's footbal team was undefeated the year before I arrived, only to shit the bed the ensuing four years. But, hey, we produce NFL QB's, so eat a dick. I attended 1 basketball game while attending university. We took on the #1 Cincinnait Bearcats, led by forceful dunk artist, Kenyon Martin, and actually held our own in the first half. Then Martin dunked on like 15 consecutive possessions and I went home and shot -15 on Mario Golf.)

What I do have a problem with is the jumping. That's it. C'mon, Dukies, is that really fun? Does jumping for 2 hours really enhance your viewing pleasure? I know it's warm in Durham during November, aren't some of you wearing flip-flops, especially considering it's basically a sauna in there? That can't be comfortable. Plus, it looks stupid.

But I'm not one to knock it unless I try it, so during the Duke/IU matchup I decided I'd put my money where my mouth is/was and get up in front of the TV and hop up and down for as long as it was a) fun and b) possible. So, I stood up a few feet from my TV and began to hop up and down, up and down ...

My first thought: this might be fun on ecstacy.

My second thought: this isn't fun at all.

My third thought: this is stupid.

My fourth thought: am I out of Bud Light and herb-crusted goat cheese?

Alright, if it's not "fun" to jump up and down (something I must admit I probably hadn't done since middle school whilst listening to House a' Pain and pretending to inhale cigarettes), then why are these jackass fans doing it? Because these losers, whom I would definitely own at Mario Golf and Beirut, think it's cool. Plain and simple. It's what you do after you've spent 4 nights in Shushefski-village studying calculus, planning team stripper parties, drinking Mr. Pibb and attempting to perfect that quasi-slacker, quasi-hippi, quasi-8th-grader-into-Led Zeppelin-but-no one-really-gets-it-until-they're-like-17-and-dude-that-kid-back-in-middle-school-was-sooo-cool hair cut that all the 12 year olds want these days.

'Nuff said. No offense, Dukies. I hate your team and the stupid jumping, but ya'll are okay in my book.

Now, where's that Lacrosse party at?

'Sup

As you may have surmised, this is a blog. What you'll find here will likely blow your mind and destroy your skull on a daily basis. Since posts will be written based upon what is awesome in this here world, we're gonna talk about sports, music, beer and cheese (and perhaps some femininas, should the mood strike us).

Just so you know we're legit, let me take a moment to thank today's sponsor: grilled cheese (made with heady Vermont cheddar). Dank.

You can't argue with grilled cheese. Go ahead, try.