Nearly three and a half years ago, I made a similar, yet slightly longer, pilgrimage from Five Points to Colonial Life Arena to watch my first Gamecock sporting event with my family. I knew absolutely nothing about South Carolina basketball, but we needed something to do on a Friday night. I can't remember which cupcake program the team played on that night, but I can remember three significant takeaways.
1. High school basketball games I had previously attended possessed far more energy in their tiny gymnasiums than what I felt in this cavernous arena.
2. Frank Martin, whose demeanor and roars I recalled from his roaming of the sidelines at Kansas State, apparently took a new job over the offseason? His screams echoed off the abundance of empty seats in the upper deck of the arena in such a ferocious manner I felt like I was sitting in the middle of the huddle during timeouts.
3. Having it be socially acceptable to yell "Cocks!" should be this university's major selling point.
To think in that brief time frame that program is now 40 minutes away from playing in the Final Four is unfathomable. It defies logic and reason. This antithesis of a blueblood program, overshadowed by a football team in a football conference, is on the verge of pulling off the most unprecedented athletic achievement I've ever directly supported. Factor in the sloppy play exhibited during the final few weeks of the regular season, Sindarius Thornwell and Company's run becomes even more puzzling.
In the last couple days, I'm not sure how to define the emotions and energy across campus. As Friday's game against Baylor progressed, it would be hard to argue against the claim this is a basketball school now. A surgically executed defensive gameplan stymied the Bears it became evident by halftime the Gamecocks were going to be deemed elite. There was no nervous energy in the crowded bar. This was the only result that made sense. As I got showered by champagne when the clock hit zero (alongside my parents nevertheless), I couldn't help but think about how to best articulate this transformation.
Scouring the Internet for memes, quotes, and the like, an unlikely source provided what I feel is the most concise and correct way to describe what I've witnessed in the past week. That source? The Fault in Our Stars. Instead of falling asleep or falling in love slowly, and then all at once, though, I watched a whole campus and its surrounding city become a basketball community in the same manner.
The past few years in Columbia have seen its shares of moments and people plant the seeds to start this affair. An upset over Kentucky where I stormed the court for the first time during my freshman year. Michael Carrera's exuberance of both enthusiasm and hustle willing his teammates to the brink of the Big Dance last year. Frank Martin's constant presence on campus where his dedication to an initially difficult sales pitch has netted him an abundance of clients today. But really, all those hours would have meant nothing without this past week. Three games, two hours in basketball time, and one stretch of purely dominant play have ramped up the passion to a dangerous level.
Before the end of the day, we'll know if this relationship will take a vacation out west. A tough game against a familiar opponent in the World's Most Famous Arena and the Mecca of Basketball stands before this bunch of Cardiac Cocks. Even if they fall short, this run made on house money will always be looked upon as one of best memories from my four years. Will they pull it off? I'm trying to temper my cockiness and expectations. But this team hasn't let up, lost faith, or cared about the critics for one second.
That's why March is a month of madness. And that's why this team has put an entire nation on notice.
J. Nave
