Everyone hates the Duke Blue Devils. There are few more universal truths in the sports world than this.
It's not even taught anymore, it's almost instinctual.
When I was growing up, my parents never told me I needed to hate Duke, I just did. And I'm not even a fan of a rival team.
It may not have always been this way, but after years of players like Christian Laettner, J.J. Redick, and Grayson Allen suiting up for them, as well as being coached by the insufferably sanctimonious Mike Krzyzewski, the Blue Devil hate has now been ingrained in our public consciousness for generations.
So, when the New York Times and The Athletic posted this monstrosity of an article on the eve of Duke's Sweet 16 showdown with St. John's, I felt like I needed to do a double take.
Did someone forget to tell the New York Times that April Fool's Day wasn't for another week?
What is this garbage?
Duke is about as likable as the New York Times, so maybe there is a correlation to the absolute tone-deafness on display here, but rather than roast the Times over this egregious misrepresentation of the average college basketball fan outside of Durham, NC, I thought I would wait until the Blue Devils inevitably flamed out of the NCAA Tournament.
It was then that I knew America's reaction to the loss would fly in the face of this absolute slop from everybody's favorite rag.
And boy, did Duke not disappoint!
I could watch that on repeat for days.
Anyway, immediately following the Blue Devils' historic 19-point collapse in the Elite 8 to UConn, the noise became deafening.
The reactions, the memes, and the vitriol confirmed everything I thought and invalidated everything the Athletic and the NYT opined just days earlier.
We all STILL love to hate Duke.
Good. Good. Let the hate flow through you.
Has there ever been a greater referendum on how much we all still hate Duke than the reaction to them getting beaten by a coach (Dan Hurley) and a program (UConn) that has objectively been more successful than they have over the last 30 years?
And the manner in which it happened is so poetic.
They got Laettner'd! Hoisted by their own petard!
Throw in the fact that their radio broadcast crew cried (wrongly) for a technical following Braylon Mullins' dagger three, and it's just the cherry on top of a perfect hate watch.
March Madness personified.
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