Written by: Serah Culler
On the first Saturday of February, the energy on Franklin Street was a little more charged than usual. The sidewalks were more crowded, and pedestrians laughed and shouted as they strolled towards campus. Buses honked as they drove by, the route screens alternating between the route names and another slide emblazoned with two words:
Beat Duke!
The Tobacco Road rivalry. Arguably one of the greatest rivalries in the world of sports, the rivalry between UNC-Chapel Hill and Duke University is one that even those who only watched the Super Bowl for glimpses of Taylor Swift can be passionate about. It is a rivalry that has shaped the outlooks and behavior of students from both campuses for generations. In North Carolinian and college basketball-centric households, it is a topic that joins religion and politics as conversation fodder that can turn a Thanksgiving dinner into a war zone. Names like Roy Williams, Mike Krzyzewski, Tyler Hansbrough, and Christian Laettner can inspire either total adoration or absolute hatred.
The first match-up between the two blues happened on January 24th, 1920 in Durham and ended with a 36-25 Carolina victory. The rivalry heated up over the years, with recruiting arguments in the 1960s and the entrance of Mike Krzyzewski in the 1980s adding fuel to the flames. The flames are often literal, with Cameron Crazies burning benches and Tar Heels burning couches (why seating items are the chosen sacrifices I do not know–maybe when the tradition began they just happened to be closest combustibles). According to this author’s homework-avoiding deep dive into UNC vs Duke lore, both the practice of rushing Franklin and the practice of moving to Krzyzewskiville began in the 1980s.
As the daughter of Carolinians, my awareness of our status as a Tar Heel family was established early (my mother’s valiant attempts at getting us to wear the garnet red of that other Carolina university proved futile). While my father conceded his Monday night football games and Sunday stock car races to the whims of his tutu-wearing daughters, he could not let go of his beloved Tar Heels. The first sporting event that I have a recollection of is the 2005 championship game, where UNC bested Illinois and Roy Williams took his first national title home to Chapel Hill. My father’s patience was finally rewarded during the 2015 ACC tournament and later during the national tournament as we all participated in March Madness as a family. My sisters and I joined him in cheering on Brice Johnson, Justin Jackson, and J.P. Tokoto as we got to experience our first despair over broken brackets. We cheered ourselves hoarse a year later when Marcus Paige landed a spectacular shot in the national championship against Villanova, only to experience heartbreak a moment later. Redemption came another year later, as Luke Maye gave us hope in a win over Kentucky and Joel Berry II–who had been a freshman during our first March Madness–led the Heels to a national title. As the years have passed, my sisters and I have continued to cheer on the Heels. Now, as UNC seniors about to graduate from Chapel Hill, my sister and I have finally participated in a rite of passage: we rushed Franklin.
Whether any lamp posts were climbed shall remain a mystery.