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Its time for Doc Ryans post again

hate or love it its still funny like my friend balz writes

arolina’s only true football rival - Virginia

The oldest rivalry in the South. The pre-eminent rivalry in the true old South.

I have argued time and again that UVa is Carolina’s biggest rival in football. Both teams seem to rule at home, and the series includes comebacks by the home teams which rank as the greatest heartbreakers in their history for the vanquished, and some of the most memorable victories for the winner of their treasured history. There have been many similar moments of drama and heartbreak in the years since those remarkable comebacks. Most years the game is in doubt right up to the final gun.

Add to this the fact that for the last two decades theses two schools have battled over the same recruits, poaching in each other’s back yards, and squabbling over their gladiators in the same way they compete over the same intellectually gifted protégés for their academic trophies. Each year the battle on the field is more bloody, more savage in the strife, more painful or exuberant in the final outcome.

Most importantly, there is a mutual respect between the schools regarding their lofty academic status, accompanied by an equally irritating arrogant sense of self importance shared by both bodies of alumni. In fact, they are a perfect match in nearly every regard, as both are regarded as terminally insufferable by everyone else in the ACC.

As a matter of fact, that is precisely the reason why Virginia and Carolina are destined to be each other’s greatest rival, for the irrefutable logic that there is simply no one else who they consider good enough to be their rival on the para mutual standards of academics and football.

Where else do they find an equal?

Florida State?
They certainly meet the criteria on the football field, but it is hard to see a team as a rival that has more professionals on the field than Tampa Bay, Jacksonville and Miami collectively have on any given Sunday. And more BMW’s in the player parking lot.

Who would trade FSU’s storied football history for one stroll on the Lawn, or a single afternoon spent on the grass beneath the ancient arms of the Davie Poplar? A Wahoo lives his whole life in the shadow of Mr. Jefferson, his presence as palpable as the Rotunda. And for every North Carolina grad, Thomas Wolfe’s words still whisper on the twilight breeze in the stately maples on the north quad.

And in Tallahassee?
Their most distinguished alumnus is Smokey and the Bandit.

While the dookies undeniably marshal impressive SAT scores, they carry boorishness to new nadirs of New Jersey-bred depravity. They are as neuvo riche in their manners as Buck Duke and the greedy, grasping, monopolistic gaudy tobacco fortune on which their institution was founded.

They are a community college in a suburb of New Jersey.

Wake Forest?
If dancing on campus is banned, imagine how the Trustees must respond to the thought of James Joyce or William Faulkner? The Demon Deacons are very decent, God-fearing people, but putting them in charge of an institution of arts and science, of free thought and academic integrity is akin to placing Cotton Matther in charge of entertainment for the bachelor party. The results are certain to be entirely unsatisfactory.

Clemson is 85,000 colorblind redneck farmers (what else can explain all those purple and orange overalls) whose wives’ hairdos have been ruined by a ceiling fan on more than one occasion, who let their 14 year old daughter smoke at the table in front of her kids.

Georgia Tech?
The most promising of the bunch…but in the end, they are an urban engineering school, whose only real cultural legacy is the Varsity, which while it is an estimable institution in its own right, but it lacks the grandeur of the Rotunda, or the charm of the Old Well.

NC State or Virginia Tech?
This is really too easy. The twin nightmares of agriculture and engineering obscenely intertwined in the unspeakable institutional equivalent of a large, mechanical pig, the machine without a soul. As Conrad said, “The horror, the horror.”

As if any of this particular discourse would have one iota of meaning for a Wolfpacker or Hokie.

UVa barely acknowledges the presence of Virginia Tech. On the years that the Va Tech game is played in Charlottesville, they line the campus with silk ropes such as found outside popular night clubs. If a poor Virginia Tech fan attempts to cross the rope to walk upon the Lawn, a Maitre ‘d leaps out dressed in a tuxedo and snidely interrogates the bewildered Hokie:

“May I help you? Oh, I’m sorry, but you can’t be admitted to the campus. I’m afraid there is a dress code. You must have designer label clothes.”

“Yes, I do see your label. But I’m afraid that “Wal-Mart” does not qualify as a designer, especially when it is on your underpants.”

At UNC, on the day of the State game, the campus is over run with scarlet clad rednecks who grow more violent as the game progresses, until at last they strike out wildly at surrounding fans in frustration with the inevitable loss. And when the game is played at State, the Baby Blue no longer make the journey to a place where tailgate parties have ended in redneck murders and the slaying of the innocents by drunken drivers leaving the stadium. Carter Finley is now a carnival of depravity played out by the denizens of a Goya painting.

State and Virginia Tech really need to turn their efforts to engaging in a rivalry with East Carolina and West Virginia respectively, where they would feel more at home, among Jerry Springer’s people.

NC State and Virginia Tech have a past rooted in the 20th century, not the 18th, a past that began in earnest after the Second World War, not the War of American Independence. That is not a history, it is a mere footnote to history. Those late institutions were founded and nurtured by educational bureaucrats, not men, who with a firm reliance on the protection of divine providence, men who had mutually pledged to each other their lives, their fortunes, and their sacred honor, to achieve the grail of freedom and self determination.

These two institutions embodied that revolutionary ideal, that knowledge and learning could light a new path to freedom, equality, and justice for a people who understood the sacrifice of freedom’s price, and it’s supreme importance as the paramount principle of human achievement. These sacred grounds were not merely a part of history, but an embodiment of a unique moment that defined the history of human thought and will, to create a nation unique in the annals of man. They were the embodiment to the proposition that to those to whom so much has been given, so much is expected : the responsibility of being the next link in the chain of learning and the guardians of this way of life, generation after generation.

No, it is impossible to have a rivalry without an equal footing, an equal history, an equal devotion to sacred ideals and principles. It is this that separates UNC and Virginia from the other schools of the ACC.

In the end, only these two great colonial institutions remain, sinecured on their storied heights, relics of the golden age of America’s idealistic birth, when all things seemed possible. Locked in their ancient competition since the days when the proud scions of patrician planters gathered on the Lawn to cast their wary eyes south towards the ambitious sons of humble tobacco farmers gathered under the Davie Poplar to found the University of The People, searching for a better life, in the sacred quest for the golden crown of southern educational eminence. Three storied centuries later these pre-eminent Southern institutions still endure in style and in substance, true to the ancient traditions.

And now they aspire to another sacred quest, the holy grails of academic and football greatness, achieving victory with integrity and idealism, in the swamp of modern athletics. They battle against corruption and tainted wealth, and the cynicism and banal evil of those who would win without principle or decency. But despite all the golden promise of so many bright, cerulean September Saturdays, their legacies have always fallen heartbreakingly short on the cold sod of the November twilight.

And in the face of this history of triumph and failure, these two great institutions of history and hope remain bound together in this quixotic quest.

As the great F. Scott Fitzgerald wrote so elegantly, and so ironically apropos of the aching hope that burns within these two great historical institutions:

“Gatsby believed in the green light, the orgiastic future that year by year recedes before us. It eluded us then, but that’s no matter – tomorrow we will run faster, stretch out our arms farther….And one fine morning…………………………….
So we beat on, boats against the current, borne back ceaselessly into the past.”

[Post edited by rives at 10/12/2017 1:32PM]

Posted: 10/12/2017 at 1:22PM


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Current Thread:
Its time for Doc Ryans post again -- rives 10/12/2017 1:22PM
  20 years of lying and cheating kinda ruins this * ** -- T Room Cav 10/12/2017 6:19PM
  Yup. Truly a shame. ** -- The Hook 10/12/2017 4:58PM
  Or perhaps The Butter Battle Book. -- hoodeyo 10/12/2017 3:40PM
  Whatever happened to him? ** -- nyhoo 10/12/2017 2:07PM
  That was long. -- Lucius 10/12/2017 1:42PM
  Still classic after all these years. ** -- hoodeyo 10/12/2017 1:30PM

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