Lucas: From The Inside

By Adam Lucas

Forgive me for a moment.

Carolina lost to Duke, 62-57, on Saturday night. You saw it. It was miserable.

The Tar Heels couldn't make enough shots overall and couldn't make any shots at all down the stretch and now are in a dire postseason situation.

This story is not about that. I want you to understand that going in so that you are not surprised when there is not enough analysis of Carolina's late-game offensive possessions or defensive struggles against Kyle Filipowski.

In five years I am not sure I will remember any of those details. But I know I will remember some of the others, and that's what this story is about. For the last four years, I've tried very hard not to frequently mention that our oldest daughter has been a Carolina Basketball manager. Virginia worked with the JV team her first year, then spent the last three years with the varsity.

Tonight was Armando Bacot's senior day and Leaky Black's senior day. But it was also Virginia Lucas's senior day.

Eric Montross turned to me a half-hour before the game and asked if it was going to be emotional. I would like to report for the record that I was doing fine—just fine!—until they introduced Virginia to the crowd and people kindly cheered and then she walked over and had been gifted a framed photo of her cutting down the nets in Philadelphia last year. She was crying, a lot. This is a girl who has somewhat made her reputation on not crying. And now we were standing at midcourt and all three of us, including her mother who never ever cries, were crying.

I looked at the photo and Hubert Davis had signed it and had written personal, heartfelt words. I know you want to talk about really important issues such as whether Hubert Davis should have called a timeout. But to our family he is someone who has helped shape our daughter's life. Those of you who have children will understand this: you just want them to be around people who will look after them, and who will have their best interests at heart, and who will be a good influence. He did that for her, every day. Even on the hardest days; no, especially on the hardest days.

The entire program did. Being a manager is not always easy. It is not unusual for the managers to be at the Smith Center at 7 a.m. to rebound for players who want to shoot early, and still be at the Smith Center at 9 p.m. to rebound for players who want to shoot late. I know what you're thinking: all of us would be willing to commit that time for a front row seat to Carolina Basketball. But the standards are very, very high—as they should be, because this is Carolina.

After Virginia's first year with the varsity, she received some very pointed advice from Eric Hoots. She needed to get better, to do more, to be even more engaged. In the moment, it wasn't exactly the ideal comments to hear. Two years later, it was perfect. Because that, too, is what you want for your children: people who care about them enough to tell them how to be even better, and who believe in them enough to be willing to have tough conversations to help get them there.

Parents already know this: your college-aged kids don't really want to hang out with you. They have too many other fun things to do and fun people to be around. They mostly already know all your hilarious stories, some of which, for some reason, they don't find hilarious. But for three years, I've been able to see Virginia almost every day at work. She's usually been busy. But she's been there, which is enough.

Two months ago, I came around the corner in Pittsburgh at the team hotel and she was standing at the elevator. It was such an incredibly happy surprise. The game was early, so I wasn't really thinking about the fact that Virginia was on the trip. To be "at work" and get to share the work with your daughter is something I know most people don't get to do. For the last three years, I have.

We haven't sat with our oldest daughter at a Carolina game in four years. Next year, maybe we'll get that experience back. And that's when we'll realize how much we miss looking over and seeing her behind the bench.

I drove down Franklin Street early on Saturday afternoon and it was perfect. The weather was postcard and the crowds were lined up outside all the usual establishments and alums and students and kids were sharing the sidewalk and there was a golden retriever in a Tar Heel basketball jersey.

To get to be part of this, at whatever level you're part of it, impacts your life. All of those people on that street, they took an idyllic Saturday when they could have done anything in the world and felt lucky to be in Chapel Hill. It was someone's first Carolina-Duke game and in a few years, they won't remember the score but they will remember the sound in the building when RJ Davis hit that three-pointer or the smell of popcorn on the packed Smith Center concourse or the way those beverages tasted on Franklin.

Those are my people. Those are our people.

In life, it's sometimes really hard to find those people. Not for us, though. My people were on Franklin in the Hansbrough jerseys and the Carter jerseys and because this is Carolina, the original owners of those jerseys showed up, too.

All those memories and all those feelings washed over me in the tunnel before the game. Carolina Basketball honcho Kaye Chase lined up all the senior parents and then walked us through the tunnel 15 minutes before tipoff. I have walked through that tunnel hundreds of times. This night, I got chills from my earlobe to my toes. I thought maybe it was because I was new to doing it exactly this way, to seeing all the people and hearing the cheers.

But then, after the senior day festivities, I walked back through the tunnel, and two things happened:

First, a voice called out, "Adam!" I looked up, and there was Roy Williams, Virginia's first boss with the basketball program. He patted his heart and then gave a thumbs up. I watched every game the man ever coached in Chapel Hill. I've stood next to him on the court after a Carolina national championship. I have felt my pulse increase when he got in the defensive crouch and shouted, "Come on!" to his team.

But I'm not sure I will ever remember any gesture of his more than that simple thumbs up. That person, who in the past 20 years has done more for Carolina Basketball than any other individual, cared enough to appreciate a lowly manager. That's Tar Heel basketball.

Back in the tunnel, some of us were composing ourselves before going back to watch the game, by which I mean my wife was changing into her "I still hate Laettner" shirt (perhaps not appropriate for a center court pregame ceremony, but very appropriate for the stands) and I was trying to act like I didn't cry.

And there was Armando Bacot, Sr., the father of the most decorated Tar Heel, sobbing. That's Tar Heel basketball, too. It changes lives, from the families of the managers to the families of the very best players.

Saturday reminded all of us that we won't get to experience it exactly this way again. It was sad, but it was also really happy to know that this happened, and we got to live it. Williams used to talk about how meaningful Senior Day is to him. All those years, I don't think I fully understood it. Today, I did.

Carolina Basketball was a life-changing experience for my daughter. And on this day, that was enough.

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University of North Carolina Athletics

Players Mentioned

Armando Bacot

Leaky Black

RJ Davis

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