Coming of Age…of sorts (AKA…Carolina Sucks)

UNC-Battered-RamFor most dyed in the wool Wolfpackers, it’s as much a basic truth of life as is eating and breathing.  We generally hate Carolina.  If Carolina NEVER won another athletic contest EVER again in ANYTHING….it would still be too soon.

So why then has it been so damned quiet around here so far this week??? The team may not wish to respond to Eric Ebron’s childishness (and wisely so), but that doesn’t mean we fans have to sit idly by like a bunch of vaginal orifices.

When did you first realize your dislike of Carolina?  When did you first feel that subtle, yet distinct, feeling of nausea in your gut at the sight of that horrid shade of blue?

Share your best Carolina joke.

Talk about the Hatred!!!  Let it flow!!!

This is who we are.

The following was penned by none other than our very own theCOWDOG, and it is not only required reading, especially this time of year, but its mojo factor has been scientifically proven.

A transplanted Yankee, the ‘Dog wasn’t baked in the State-Carolina rivalry oven like some of us were.  And yet, as you will read, he quickly came to have a much better grasp of the situation than many ever will.

His selfless act in the name of Wolves everywhere should be a shining example to all of us…

Wherever there is a baby blue-clad fat bastard with a tuba, there is always a chance for redemption.

Well played, Sir.

And Go To Hell Carolina.

Where Were You When You First Shunned The Baby Blue?

Everybody has a time and reason. I thought it might be fun to fire you up and get you recalling what itDog and Friends was that made you put the X in UNX and loath the pastel blue.

I know where I was, and if you feel like listening, I’ll tell you.

OK then…


I happened to be in Kenan Stadium, on the third Saturday afternoon, of September 1972.  This 18 yr. old freshman from Fredonia, freakin’ New York was healthy, armed with an understanding of the Twin Veer, dressed out, and on the depth charts for the first time as a Red and White from NC STATE! Actually, to be precise, I was dressed out in white over white, red lid and trim, accessorized with wristbands to the elbow, white hand towel, and cleats spatted up to Holtz’s ankle high limit rule.

The Heels were ranked. We had tied Maryland in the opener and beaten Syracuse, and were on…well…nobody’s radar. There I was with a hundred Monarch butterflies ingested at pre game meal, I supposed, while surrounded in light blue, with a far share of red.

Wait, I’m getting ahead of myself. The question to the lead was… first shunned…

Midway through gearing up for practice on the first Monday before Carolina, in the bowels of Reynolds, I noted a lack of jocularity coming from the upperclassmen side of the locker room. They were not cuttin’ up.  Freshmen never cut up in the room. Well, we did, in whispered tone, amongst ourselves, but we always wanted to hear what was goin’ on a couple of rows over. There was not much to pick up this day. Not for me anyway, ‘til we hit the practice field.

After quick drills, which were Lou’s form of calisthenics, we broke into positional units like we always did prior to game plan practice. For us wides it pretty much consisted of pairing up and throwing the ball to each other for about ten minutes with the “passer” doing his best to make the partner try to come up with the most ridiculous sideline catch ever.

On this day Steve Lester was my partner. Steve Lester was one of two starting, senior wide outs in ’72.  Lester taught me how to recognize and take out a pitchman, and more.

Before I threw my first pass to him that day, I heard him say, “Angelo.“

I kinda looked at him funny, like I expected more to follow.

“Lou Angelo,“ as he snatched my quite less than perfect spiral.

When I asked him what heck he was talking about, I received no answer, just a nifty little bullet about 3 inches off the ground. The rest of the drill went pretty much silent, and Holtz’s whistle blew, signaling us to “line it up!“

Practice was routine that day, getting the package for Saturday installed. After dinner the offense watched a little film of the Carolina defense v. Maryland from a few weeks past.
The thing about film was that for us wide outs, there really wasn’t a whole lot of information to be gathered. Very few teams ran the Twin Veer, so it was tough picking up tendencies watching a future opponent defend an I formation. The best you could do was try and find the pitchman in zone and man coverage. The problem is, sometimes the outside LB was it, sometimes the safety, and even the DE. You never really knew until the play was in motion against the Veer.

Maybe midway through the session I saw a safety, 11, put a wicked hit on a back that had lined up as a flanker. A bunch of “oohs” and “ahs” followed from the room.
Someone muffled, “There’s your boy, Pat.” That didn’t seem to go over very well.
“Fuck him.” That came from Lester. I looked over at Pat Kenney for a reaction.
Nope. Nothin’. Maybe a squint. The session soon ended, and for the second time that day, I was left with this question mark balloon over my noggin. I wanted to ask what just happened back there, but as a freshman dressing out for the first time, I felt that if they don’t tell ya, you don’t ask.

Tuesday’s practice was quite remarkable. The guys were really getting at it with each other. It was a mean practice, filled with plenty of expletive adjectives and verbs being tossed around, usually describing Carolina. I was beginning to think that this might not be just another game to win. Over dinner that evening, Don Buckey broke a silence at our freshmen round table. “Hey. Who is Lou Angelo?“ I looked up and asked him where he had heard that name. “ Steve Lester said it to me today. He wouldn’t tell me who he was.” I told Buckey about hearing the name from Steve the day before, but knew nothing either.

As we walked out of Case for the evening, I spied Lester. I had to know. I gave Buck a head twitch and we caught up to the guy with the answer. Buck said it first. “Who is Lou Angelo?“

Lester looked at us like we had leprosy or sumpthin’, “He broke his jaw, man! On a cheap hit!“  Lester was pointing, pointing up ahead at Pat Kenney. He what? Pat Kenney, our all everything? The player I had hoped to emulate? Broke his jaw on a cheap hit? Angelo… now I got it. Number 11.

Boys and girls, by Thursday, I had a whole new take on Saturday’s game. I not only was flushed by the prospects of playing in my first college game, but understood that I was now involved in subplots. I was beginning to catch the current of despise for the coming opposition. Should I play Saturday, I was going to find a way to make Lou Angelo look bad. If the situation were to present itself, even find a form of retribution without doing something cheap.

Midway in the third quarter, Carolina went up by 14. We came right back with a TD of our own. That’s the way the game had been going all afternoon. They’d pull ahead; we’d come back within striking distance. We played from behind, and we played with confidence. I had managed to play two complete series by the end of the third quarter. They were very unremarkable minutes. Nothing really came my way. Most of the plays were spent running off the corner or just chasing to get a pad on someone across the field.

At the outset of the 4th quarter, Carolina had punted and we took possession. Holtz threw up two fingers, meaning I was about to get another series. We moved the ball pretty well, with Roland Hooks picking up most of those yards out to about midfield. We stalled though. In fact on 3rd and long, I finally had a chance to make a play. I ran a sharp five-yard slant and had no one in front of me. It just wasn’t meant to be as Dave Buckey’s pass got batted down at the line of scrimmage. Well, punt it was to be, so I stayed on the field.

I held my block until the thud and released downfield, one eye on the ball, the other on anything in blue. Pat Korsnick had kicked a beauty. It was high, deep, and to my side.
At around the 10 yard line I picked up the ball flight Jack Elam style. The return man was backing off, this one was gonna’ be mine baby! And then I got lambasted. Hit from the side and behind my legs, my arms stretched forward while my knees were planted two inches into the sod. The ball trickled into the end zone.

I was pissed! As I reached behind me to pull the sonofabitch that just nailed me off, I saw two things at once. On the shoulder pads of the player I was flinging off was the numeral 11. On the ground next to me was a pretty, little, yellow hankie. We untangled and I got up first on shell-shocked pins. I extended a hand to pull #11 up along with the words,

“Helluva play Lou.”  Something else was uttered about cheap shots, and maybe his mother, too.

The defense kept ‘em right down there and on 4th down, Mike Stultz did what he did best that year. He took their punt to the house, man, 27-27 with 6 and change to go.
The Tar Heels mounted a time consuming drive and with under 2 minutes left, punched it in for the go ahead score. Lou collected the offense and exclaimed “ Hey, hey, we’re gonna’ score.” And down the field the O went with a Bruce Shaw bullet here and a Bruce Shaw bullet there. We had a big gainer on a draw by Willie Burden, too, but Shaw was on fire.

With 00:02 and the ball resting on Carolina’s 26, we used the last time out.
Shaw came over and we listened to the call. Of course the guys on the sideline were a wreck, with the Baptist boys praying and the Catholic boys like me, trying to cut deals, and the rest of the faiths putting theirs’ on the offense.

“Left opposite Jet and Go.“ Lou released his grip on our QB. The play put Lester wide to the right on the line of scrimmage. Pat Kenney would be the slot about five yards inside of Lester. Lester would run a deep post, Kenney would cross under and run a wheel.

It seemed like the ball hung in space forever near the back corner of the endzone. To my line of sight, there was nothing but that baby blue in the area. But… superman sans cape, with a big 25 on his chest flew from nowhere, out of the front corner of the goal line, and over number 11. Touchdown!

The big board read 34-33 and the crowd in anguish, mixed with holy glee, Holtz managed to get the entire team together on the sidelines. “ Men, it’s up to you. Go for the tie or go for two? “ You know the answer.

Lou called for a middle screen and in a fit of genius, or plain fit, inserted Buckey to run it.

The clock was burned in at 00:00 and so too, the score forever branded, 34-33.

The play, one Holtz would later tell us in the locker room was the worst he’d ever called, failed miserably. Burden never got released, and Buck was engulfed by pressure that screens are designed to manifest. A desperate flutter of a pass lay unattended on Kenan turf.

Yeah, we hurt, but we were also fiercely proud heading to the field house.

As we made our way on the cinder track to that field house, the Carolina band’s horn section was lined up on the edge of that track serenading us with a mocking rendition of  “Ol’ MacDonald.” As I passed in front of some pastel blue tubas, one blasted off a note not six inches from my ear hole. I don’t know what possessed me, but I bent over, grabbed a handful of gravel, and rammed it right down that fat bastard’s horn. I never looked back, and I’ve never looked at THAT color with any other eyes since.

About Wufpacker

A 2nd generation alumnus and raised since birth to be irrationally dedicated to all things NC State. Class of '88 and '92.

Big Four Rivals Flashback Miscellaneous & Fun Stuff NCSU Sports History Required Reading Tradition

44 Responses to Coming of Age…of sorts (AKA…Carolina Sucks)

  1. vtpackfan 10/31/2013 at 8:54 AM #

    Hahaaa…. A sad tuba indeed!

    Always loved the wheel route-it’s a thing of beauty and the simplicity makes it all the better.

    Screens-not a fan of.

    Sports are sports to me. My grip is that their school is average rate and they get gifted undergrads and just stop there. Most of the Alum I’ll hang with did all they’re heavy lifting during prep years or got a rigorous undergrad somewhere else (usually State) before enrolling for at a professional degree there.

  2. WolfInVolCountry 10/31/2013 at 10:19 AM #

    Did my undergrad in Colorado and moved to Raleigh in 1980 to start grad school. Being a mountain boy I knew the value of a land grant school. The ag boys, the food-sciencers, the textilers… they were all my kind (just from a different state). From day one I loved the Wolfpack and understood the hate for the holes. Was easy for me to join the club.

    I never cheer for UNC in anything. I never wear baby-blue! I would not allow my wife to dress our three sons in any shade of blue even close to hole colors.

    Best joke… “Woody Durham has dick crumbs.”

  3. MISTA WOLF 10/31/2013 at 11:16 AM #

    What is the only sign of intelligent life in Chapel Hill?

    Raleigh – 25 miles

    My hatred for Carolina came at birth. I was born a State fan and I would’nt trade that for anything in the world. I’ve done some pretty shitttttttty things to some Carolina fans in my lifetime. The worst is banging a dude I knew chick, and taking a picture in the mirror of it, while wearing a NC State shirt in college. To this day I don’t think he knows that happened in college, but whenever I see him I think of that picture and laugh. Awww the glory days. The only thing I forgot to do was howl while doing it.

    GO F’n PACK!!!

  4. MISTA WOLF 10/31/2013 at 11:17 AM #

    What is the only sign of intelligent life in Chapel Hill?

    Raleigh – 25 miles

    My hatred for Carolina came at birth. I was born a State fan and I would’nt trade that for anything in the world. I’ve done some pretty horrible things to some Carolina fans in my lifetime. The worst is banging a dude I knew chick, and taking a picture in the mirror of it, while wearing a NC State shirt in college. To this day I don’t think he knows that happened in college, but whenever I see him I think of that picture and laugh. Awww the glory days. The only thing I forgot to do was howl while doing it.

    GO F’n PACK!!!

  5. BJD95 10/31/2013 at 11:24 AM #

    As early as I can remember. I had one elementary teacher who let me write a State football player’s name on my schoolwork. 1st or 2nd grade.

    My mom always likes to say “I’d much rather have agriculture than no culture at all.”

    One of my five favorite “Wolves Den” memories growing up was the dude pacing the grass bank with a sign that read “I’d rather have shit in my boots than Dick Crum.”

    Another Top 5er is the Hole who went to a knee to secure a two-point conversion pass before walking into the endzone, totally uncovered. Pack wins by one. 35-34 IIRC.

  6. BJD95 10/31/2013 at 11:26 AM #

    I am no longer even remotely capable of attending these games live. The hatred grows like wild mushrooms every year that passes. I really can’t stand to be around people at all. My kids can be around, and they know to give me my space for those 3-4 hours.

  7. 85Designo 10/31/2013 at 11:29 AM #

    I came down from up North for Grad School in 1981. Witnessed the Monty Kiffin on-sides kick and the Valvano 83 win over the cheats in Rock’n Reynolds. We chanted “Woody…Woody … Woody as he put up his radio equipment in the rafters during the celebration on the court. But what set me off was the first time I saw a bumper sticker ” It’s Hard to be Humble When You are a Tar Heel” You don’t see those anymore. Must be very humbling to be a ‘Cheat’n Hole’ the Carolina Way, don’t you think?

  8. Texpack 10/31/2013 at 11:48 AM #

    Watching Tab Thacker put away the Holes in ‘Rasslin’ at Carmichael was one of my favorite moments ever as a fan. All Hate All The Time.

  9. Greywolf 10/31/2013 at 12:21 PM #

    “Burden never got released, “So tell me, is that the same as “held?”

  10. TheCOWDOG 10/31/2013 at 2:15 PM #

    Well, was McClendon down, Grey?

  11. PoppaJohn 10/31/2013 at 3:04 PM #

    Great write up ‘Dog, thoroughly enjoyed it.

    An old one … couple of Carolina guys at a urinal, State man walks up and does his business & walks away. Carolina guys say, “hey, don’t they teach you guys to wash your hands after going?” State guy, “nope, they teach us not to pee on our hands.”

  12. TruthBKnown Returns 10/31/2013 at 3:56 PM #

    Seen on a mens’ room wall in the “stacks” of D.H. Hill Library on State campus: Flush twice — it’s a long way to Chapel Hill

  13. Six Pack 10/31/2013 at 4:04 PM #

    I’ve hated the baby blue since birth. I was just raised that way.

    This isn’t really a joke, but it is a funny story nonetheless. I went with my folks to the game in Chapel Hill in 1986. It was the first State/Carolina game under Dick Sheridan, and State won much like State lost in the above story of the 1972 game. But, the funny part happened after the game. We were walking back to our car after State’s 35-34 win. As we walked down Franklin street, a carload of Carolina fans yelled out to us, “Go to Hell State!” Not missing a beat, my mother yelled back, “we’re already here!” I love that story, and I hate Carolina.

    This joke was only good after the 1989 season, but it is one of my favorites: What do Dick Sheridan and Mack Brown have in common? They both have 2 wins in Kennan Stadium.

  14. wufpup76 10/31/2013 at 4:34 PM #

    Very cool story – thanks for sharing.

    “When did you first realize your dislike of Carolina? When did you first feel that subtle, yet distinct, feeling of nausea in your gut at the sight of that horrid shade of blue?”

    ^Well, my folks made sure I loved State and hated Carolin* when I was wee little (thank God), but I don’t have an exact time. What really enhanced my hatred was being more-or-less the ‘lone wolf’ in elementary school / growing up. There weren’t many of us State fans where I grew up, but we stuck together through thick and thin (like a roaming pack of wolves).

    The majority of kids were raised as ‘bandwagoners’ – cheering for whoever gave them the best chance of gloating or ‘feeling like a winner’ (the beginning of the ‘Wal-Marters’!). That meant a ton of faux Hole fans, so I learned very early the value of loyalty and sticking to your guns, so to speak.

    It’s really not fair, but to this day when I find out upon meeting someone that they’re a Hole fan I immediately think ‘Oh really???’ and make immediate assumptions about their character – or lack thereof (lol). I’ve learned that’s not really the case for adults, but it’s still funny as hell. (I have plenty of Hole fans and give them sh*t all the time about their fair-weatheredness, haha).

    Anyway, sorry to ask this here – but anybody have a report on the Pembroke game from last night? I was really only able to listen to parts of the second half and was hoping for some insights from those who were able to attend the game.

    Go Pack!

  15. 13OT 10/31/2013 at 4:47 PM #

    The first ACC football game I ever attended was with my high school junior class at Kenan Stadium. That was the season that UNC went 8-2 and won the Gator Bowl. Most of us cheered loudly that afternoon for Clemson, who won the game by 11-7. Felt so good.

    Still does when the Flagship loses. How can anyone outside of an actual alum of that school pull for the Tar Heels in ANY athletic contest?

  16. Virginia Wolf 10/31/2013 at 4:51 PM #

    Was at that game, dog! I remember the gravel in the horn but didn’t know that was you. Great move on your part! I never really liked UNX but it was at that game I learned to hate them. It had nothing to do with what happened on the field but it came from being in the stands next to some ignorant UNX fans. They were so hateful and arrogant, I wanted to throw up. Declared that day, I’d never again go to a game at Kenan and never have to this day and what’s more, don’t even plan to! Can’t stand that bunch for the hole!!!!

  17. coyotejoe 10/31/2013 at 5:59 PM #

    Hey COWDOG, I was in elementary school with Roland Hooks’ little brother Robert; he was always so proud of his big brother. (Love that story, by the way.)

    I guess my hatred started back in third grade, when this prissy-ass boy was asking everyone what was their favorite team. As you can imagine, most everyone was parroting “I like Carolina!”

    When I told him I like State, he started laughing saying, “You pull for a bunch of farmers!” Since I come from a family of farmers, this hit pretty close to home for me, and I can still recall how much I wanted to slap that smirk off of his face…damn I wish I had done it!

  18. Pack78 10/31/2013 at 5:59 PM #

    Grew up a GT fan (Dad was an alum) and went to the u*nx game in CH my freshman year in ’74 not thinking that it was that big of a deal. We were a big favorite but got whacked that day; their arrogance and self-entitled attitudes were on full display and my hatred of that cesspool has grown ever since. Favorite hole joke: Dad was in a long line in the rest room at a Greensboro ACC Tournament back in the ’80’s and the guy behind him yelled: ‘Ya’ll hurry up, I have to take an NC State!’ State fan responded: ‘Be sure to put your tar heel back in your britches when you’re done!’ Dad said it brought the house down…

  19. PackBack81 10/31/2013 at 6:09 PM #

    This sums up my hatred for UNX. I attended the 1979 UNX/ECU football game and sat with my girlfriend in the UNX student section. How I hated both teams. I couldn’t decide which team I wanted more to lose. I decided to root for ECU. They led 24-21 late when the idea hit me. If a tie is worse than kissing your own sister, how great would a tie be between two teams I hated. I rooted for UNX’s late field goal to be good. This is the only second I have ever rooted for any success for the holes. I was deliriosly happy with the 24-24 tie, the only person in the stadium who left with a smile on my face. The amazing thing is my girlfriend didn’t dump me for the way I acted around her holefriends.

  20. bill.onthebeach 10/31/2013 at 6:11 PM #


    Mr. Dog was on the that field…
    and another freshman (me) was sitting in the stands at the ten yard line where that last Wolfpack TD was scored.

    First semester… I sat beside Dave and Don in two classes and Ralph Stringer was in another.

    I grew up in a house divided…twenty five miles from Chapel Hill.
    Both Mom and Pop loved the light blue…
    and my Grandpa played baseball and football for the Heels…

    Most of the rest of us went State.

    I had been going to a game every other year or so at Kenan
    since I was about 10 years old…had plenty of family in Chapel Hill
    so I ‘knew my way around’ the place.

    Anyway, I got two tickets in the State Student section that day and took
    my Pop.

    Everything was cool… until the other side of stadium started yelling ….
    “GO TO HELL … STATE !!!”.

    Of course, the Red Section responded….

    I didn’t say a word.
    I looked at Pop.
    Our crowd got a little louder with every response.
    Pop looked at me.
    I didn’t say a word.

    About the third time around…
    I looked at Pop.

    Pop looked at me.
    Then he said….

    “Damn boy…. aren’t you going to yell for your team !!!”

    When those words came out of my mouth… the first time… lightning did not strike and the old man smiled just a little. Only took me about two more times… to catch up with the rest of the Pack and get in high gear.

    Then basketball season started….

    And as they say…. the rest is history.

  21. Greywolf 10/31/2013 at 6:18 PM #

    The official who raised his arms and signaled “Touchdown” didn’t think McClendon was down.

  22. Greywolf 10/31/2013 at 6:23 PM #

    Not all trips to The Dump on the Hump are unpleasant. I saw Nathan Ritter hit a 56 yd FG with about 12 seconds to go to give us a sweet 12 -9 victory.

  23. Pack78 10/31/2013 at 7:07 PM #

    ^Think that was Damon Hartman…I was there, too.

  24. TheCOWDOG 10/31/2013 at 7:20 PM #

    I feel the meter risin’.

  25. wirogers 10/31/2013 at 7:29 PM #

    My dad was a State Grad. Because of his work with NASA we grew up in Maryland near College Park. I was able to pull for both State and UNX while growing up. Dad allowed it wanting me to be the best I could be. I guess I started to learn the difference between the two when I was a junior is high school. I was looking for a college to go to, I wanted to major in agriculture and engineering.

    My grandmother sat me down wanting to talk to me about going to college. Understand, this is a lady who went to church twice on Sunday and once on Wednesday. I never heard her cuss in her life and have never heard her cuss since (she is 96). I am one of the chosen grandchildren (you know the ones that get what they want, it does not matter what the rest of the family wants). She told me that I should choose a college that provided me the best education, would help me find a job that I would love to do the rest of my life, and that I should not choose my college based on where dad went or my love of their sports team. This is great advise. then to quote her, ‘However, if you go to Carolina, you are dead to me and do not bring your worthless ass back into my house, EVER!’.

    I am grateful every day of my education from State.

    What is the difference between a urinal and a girl from Carolina?

    The urinal does not follow you around for 3 weeks after you use it.

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