The place was already teeming with obnoxious Carolina fans, decked out in that putrid powder blue of theirs, screaming at the top of their lungs and chanting "Go Heels!" and other annoying Chapel Hillisms. I decided to keep my "Duke 1991 NCAA Champions" T-shirt well hidden under my jacket.

The only table left in the place, and it was still just 7 o'clock, was the one next to the drafty rear door, offering a crained-neck view of one small ceiling-mounted TV with a fuzzy screen. Of course, you couldn't hear the sound at all. To add insult to injury, our server was wearing a Carolina blue scarf over her "Soon to Be Relatively Famous" T-shirt. I didn' think they were allowed to do that. Tarnishes the image, you know.

"Two pitchers of Coors, an order of curly fries and 50 'Three Mile Island' wings," I shouted, as Tawnie leaned over the table. I figured a little flame-shootin', hole-burning indigestion would allow me to cope with the two hours of Tar Heel taunts and insults ahead. There's nothing like repeated trips to the growler to shift your attention from some unpleasantness, a little trick I mastered well at college.

"Duke is going down tonight," shouted some flamer with a powder blue head band at the table next to ours. He was so lit already that a flick of my Bic would have sent him to Tar Heel Heaven. "We're going to kick [Elton] Brand's ass and send him back home to momma - he's going down!! The Dukies haven't won a game at the Dean Dome since '91 and Shane [Battier] is out with an ankle, man! It's going to be a f*%#$n execution!!" He sounded almost convincing. I was getting worried now. Duke's 28-1 and perfect 15-0 ACC record looked to be in real jeopardy.

Beginning to wonder if I and my friends were the only Blue Devil fans in the place, we found ourselves furiously chowing down on wings, our palates ablaze with flames from the super hot critters. It was delightful. Game time was now only minutes away. I decided to make a final pre-game "crapper" visit. Apparently that was a popular decision - the place was jammed with Carolina fans, some of whom were hi-fivin' while they were busy trying to take aim in the right place.

"The Heels are No.1," there were chanting. "[Ed] Cota rules!! They're gonna paint the streets Carolina Blue in Chapel Hill tonight!!! Coach K and the Cameron Crazies are wusses!! Long live Dean Smith!!!" It took me fifteen minutes to finally get to do my business. By the time I got back to my chair, Carolina was up 4-2 on a Haywood field goal and Brand had already picked up his first foul. Less that two minutes had elapsed. The place was rocking. It was going to be a long night.

Tawnie was back, leaning over me again. "Can I get you anything else, sir," she purred?

"How about a 30 point night for Langdon and a Duke blow out?," I shouted, as Ed Cota drained a three and Carolina went up 7-4 at the 17:28 mark. Tawnie looked back at me with a blank stare, then giggled, and went off somewhere. The guys at the next table were bouncing in their chairs and banging the table with their plastic beer glasses. I noticed that dozens of people were standing behind the tables and shouting. The place was packed! It was awesome!! March madness had begun...

The fifteen minute mark. Langdon drains a three and Duke goes up 11-9. I jump out of my chair shouting "Trajan rules!!" It was a mistake.

"Hey, look at the Dukies. Aren't they cute! Did your mammas let all of you out at once tonight?" The taunting had begun. I felt a wet liquid oozing down my back. Someone had poured some beer on me. Maryland fans, I guess. Turnover by Haywood. Brand misses. Rebound by Lang. Cota misses. Lang rebounds and makes a field goal. The place erupts in pandemonium. The Heels have tied it at 11 at the 14 minute point. Thirty seconds later Avery drains a three and Duke leads 14-11. I couldn't resist a clenched fist "Go Devils!!!" That did not sit well with the boys next to us.

"[Duke coach Mike Krzyzewski] K is a pansy, and he has a broom handle stuck up where the sun don't shine," shouted the guy with the head band, as he punctuated the sentence with a load of beer splashed our way. Tawnie rushed over, along with some muscle manager from behind, and Mr. Head Band settled down, after promising to be good. I decided another growler visit was in order, particularly to allow the guys to cool off. By the time I pushed my way through the throng and got back to my table, I caught Avery draining another three and the score was now tied at 19. I had missed more than a dozen points. The place got very quiet as Duke tied the game at the 9:30 mark. Tawnie was back and our table were ordering some more wings, a plate of shrimp and another pitcher of beer.

The place remained eerily quiet as Duke went up by nine, 29-20, on an Elton Brand field goal at the 5:30 mark. It didn't last for long. By the time the buzzer sounded to end the half, Carolina had climbed back in, on the strength of a Bersticker field goal, to trail only by two going into the locker room. The place erupted into a sea of blue. The noise level was deafening. People were banging on the tables and shouting "Heels! Heels! Heels!" It was worse than my college fraternity on Senior Weekend.

"Want me to get the guy with the head band?," asked John. I am willing to sacrifice this whole pitcher of Sam Adams."

"He's not worth a pitcher of Sam. I'd rather drink it. Besides, they'll probably throw us out. You know how it always goes."

"Yeah, you're right." Tawnie was back with the shrimp. She started to peel them for us.

"I'm impressed. Where did you learn to peel 'em like that, I asked?" I figured I'd better make sure she was on our side for the second half. Things could get ugly with the next table.

"I grew up in Scottsdale," she cooed.

"Not exactly the seafood capital of the world."

"My parents owned The Fish N Chips on Hayden. I can peel a pound of shrimp in two minutes. Wanna see?"

"Go for it." She did it, with time to spare. Even the guys at the next table were impressed. They started chanting "Tawnie! Tawnie! Tawnie!" At least, for the moment, they were thinking of something besides Carolina.

After another growler visit - and this time it seemed like at least 1000 people were queued up in "Mr. Crapper's Room," I returned to the table again just as Langdon drained a three to put Duke up by 11, 54-43. I had missed more than 9 minutes of the second half. The place was very quiet now. By the time I had dipped a few shrimp into the drawn butter and slurped them down, Avery had drained another three and Duke now lead 59 to 45 with 9:29 to go. The people next to us were getting really obnoxious now.

"They bribed the refs. That's obvious. This game's fixed!!"

"Cry babies!!" That was the wrong thing to say.

"What!!! You just wait. This game isn't over yet, man!" He jumped up on his chair, twirling his head band in the air, shouting "Heels Rule! Duke cheats!!" Mr. Muscle Manager looked at him menacingly. "The Dookies are wimps and mamma's boys," he shouted, as he sat down with a ear-to-ear grin and glazed eyes. I figured this was going to get a whole lot worse if things continued as they were going. In fact, as Cory Maggette slammed in a sweet dunk at the 4:00 minute mark to put Duke up by 20, 70 to 50, and Mr. Head Band got up, rather wobbly I noted, and headed to the back, presumably for a call to nature, the ref called a technical on Duke for "slapping the backboard," and the place erupted into a frenzy, as if Carolina was going to make up a 20-point deficit in four minutes.

They didn't. With two minutes left, Duke was still up by 20, 74 to 54, and then led by 22 a few seconds later. The game was over. Dozens of Carolina fans began the ritual of getting the check, making that final growler run, and shuffling slowly and dejectedly out the door. With 1:04 to go, Duke had a 24-point lead and proceeded to call a time out. That infuriated Mr. Head Band.

"Why the *&*%#$@# call a time out when the game is history, man! That's just rubbing it in!!" He ended by tossing the whole pitcher, not just the beer, at our table. Mr. Muscle manager was there in a flash, and Head Band was history. I felt good. In fact, I felt great. I gave Tawnie the biggest tip I have ever given anyone. This was what it was all about. It doesn't get any better than this. March Madness. Coming to a TV screen near you soon. Be there!