Lucas: Dear Coach Williams

By Adam Lucas

Dear Coach Williams,

Thank you.

I hope this isn't your last victory over North Carolina State. But it's your 30^th, and so it seemed like a good time to thank you.

You're 30-4 against the Wolfpack now. That means nearly seven percent of your victories as Carolina's head coach have come against State. And those of us from Wake County are extremely grateful. Tuesday night wasn't just biscuits. Roy Williams went ahead and got the dirty rice to go with it.

Those who are reading this who aren't local and aren't of a certain age probably don't understand this, and that's OK. Just bear with us and I will try to explain.

When some of us grew up in the Triangle, in a time known as the 1980s (or before), there were no Duke fans. When we went to school, everyone in class was either a State fan or a Carolina fan. Growing up, I legitimately knew more Wake Forest fans than Duke fans.

But living in Cary, I knew more State fans than any other Carolina opponent. They were our teachers. They were our coaches. They were in school and church and on the Beltline with their "Back the Pack!" bumper stickers.

Losing to Duke wasn't fun, of course. But losing to NCSU (that's what they were called back then) could ruin your week. If Lakista McCuller (he was a real player) went off for what I remember as being 18 three-point baskets, you were absolutely guaranteed that half the class would be wearing Mr. Wuf on their sweatshirts the next day.

In 1987, Carolina had one of the best teams of my childhood. They went 14-0 in the ACC, made it to the ACC Tournament final, and then lost to an underwhelming Wolfpack squad headed by Vinny Del Negro.

The next day, at Farmington Woods Elementary School, just to avoid the inevitable harassment from Pack fans, I perpetuated the idea that the league office had called for an official review of the game's final seconds, and that the outcome was in doubt. Them being State fans and therefore prone to conspiracy theories, it worked for at least a few hours.

In 1990, I made a friendly wager with a teacher at Apex Middle School regarding the outcome of the Carolina-State game. The Tar Heels won, the teacher had to run laps in the Apex gym, and I sat, cackling, on the bleachers. He retaliated by giving me a B that quarter.

It was worth it.

We lived in the same neighborhood with legendary State coach Jim Valvano. We know this is true, because when they won the national title in 1983, the family put a large red "1" on their front door for months.

This is one of my family's darkest secrets. When Jimmy V took the Pack to the national title in that miraculous win over Houston, my father did not actively root against State. He has regretted it for exactly 36 years and hopefully will regret it for 36 more.

He told me this story when I was very young, the way you would teach a child to look both ways before crossing the street, so that I would not make the same mistake. I'm not sure, but I think he may secretly blame himself for that Wolfpack title, as though rooting a little more fervently for the Cougars might have swung the outcome. He has not made the same mistake since, in any sport, against any Pack opponent, on any day.

And that is one lesson that his son absolutely learned.

Every year, my dad would buy season tickets to NC State basketball games so that we would be assured of having tickets to the Carolina-State game in Raleigh (we would go to the other ACC games that didn't conflict with Tar Heel games and, this is no lie, root for the opponent). It was the only Carolina road game we could attend. Walking up to the gym before the game, you could hear the crowd from outside in the parking lot. "Go to hell Carolina!" was a much-loved line in their fight song. If you only know the Carolina-State game in Raleigh in the PNC Arena version, you are missing roughly the difference between the Las Vegas Strip at 10 a.m. on Thanksgiving morning and the Las Vegas Strip at midnight on a Friday during the weekend of a big UFC fight. One year, an incensed Wolfpack fan challenged me to meet him outside in the parking lot.

I was 11 years old.

One of my favorite Bill Guthridge stories came after a Carolina win over State at Reynolds. Someone asked the Tar Heel then-assistant coach if he'd had a good night.

"Yes," he replied, counting the change that had been thrown at him and the rest of the Tar Heels on the UNC bench. "I made 67 cents."

Reynolds was constructed so that 4,000 people could see the game and 8,000 others could be under the same roof while the game was happening. We sat in those beyond the baseline seats for years, watching (or at least trying to watch) Eric Montross and Rasheed Wallace (State fans really hated Rasheed) and Antawn Jamison play the Pack in Raleigh.

During those years, Roy Williams was off in Lawrence, Kansas. But he never forgot. Never one time. And when he returned to Carolina, he returned as if it was 1983 and Sidney Lowe was trying to defend Michael Jordan, not 2004 and Scooter Sherrill was trying to stop Raymond Felton.

Thirty times, he has beaten State. Here's the thing: the vast majority of the 30 victories haven't been close. Carolina's average margin of victory in those games is 14.3 points, and 21 of the 30 are by double figures. Just for the sake of comparison, the Tar Heels have 12 double-digit wins over Clemson in that same stretch.

The Pack's only been ranked in four of those wins, so the rest of you in the Carolina world probably haven't noticed. But for those of us in Wake County, well, it's been a glorious decade and a half. What you might not understand is that in every single one of those 30 victories, Williams helped Carolina win the one game that everyone in Raleigh wanted to win more than any other contest on the schedule. Every single time, it's the biggest game for them. Thirty times, they've lost.

This isn't permanent. It can't be, one team can't win nearly 90 percent of the time in a series like this. But it sure is fun right now.

Maybe more than anyone in Carolina history, Roy Williams understands what it means to beat NC State. But here is what's more impressive: he can convince Garrison Brooks, from Lafayette, Alabama, what it means to beat NC State. Roy Williams, from Asheville, can convey to Cameron Johnson, from Pittsburgh, that no matter what the ACC standings look like, beating the Wolfpack makes a difference.

How much does this game mean to him? You know how he feels about timeouts, right?

Up 96-75 with 6:48 remaining, Roy Williams called a timeout to lecture his team. Up by 21 points with seven minutes left.

And for that reason, life in Wake County has been pretty darn good for the last 16 years.  Tuesday night, all the Tar Heels did was put up the second-most points they've ever scored in a regulation ACC game, and the most points Carolina has scored in history--236 games of history--against the Wolfpack.

And so, Coach Williams, I just wanted to tell you thank you, from the bottom of every single Wake County Tar Heel's heart. For the 30 victories and for explaining the relevance of this game to college students from everywhere from Orange Park, Fla. to Guilderland, N.Y.

But also for these deliciously tasty biscuits.

University of North Carolina Athletics

Players Mentioned

Garrison Brooks

Cameron Johnson

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