They shoot Dukies, don't they?

I’ve always considered the state of Maryland to be my home. I was born there. I got my driver’s license there. I developed my professional sports allegiances there.

When I entered my teenage years, the Maryland Terrapins began their rise to prominence. I followed the team’s progress religiously. Juan Dixon and Steve Blake were common household names across the state and I watched with intense interest when they finally broke through and made the Final Four in 2001.

And boy was I relieved when the Duke Blue Devils knocked them off. I wore my Duke jersey with unrivaled pride and a sense of intense superiority around my high school that week. The other students gnashed their teeth, but the only comeback they had was the one I’d heard over and over since sixth grade and the one I continue to hear to this day: “You live in Maryland. What the hell is wrong with you?”

No team in this area is more reviled than Duke. The Dallas Cowboys are universally hated by fans of the metro area’s most important franchise, but I don’t think even that measures up. Some in the area root for the Cowboys just to be contrarian and they make their presence felt on local sports talk radio.

But no one around here would ever admit Coach K is one of the greats without simultaneously insinuating that he somehow convinced all those McDonald’s All-Americans to attend Duke with cash he stole from an orphanage. Not unless one had a previous affiliation of course.

And that’s really the only good reason to root for Duke if, as in my case, you didn’t even attend the school. Its student body is made up primarily of rich white kids with SAT scores showing off one of two things: their intelligence or the amount of money their parents paid for tutors and private lessons.

So I can understand. It’s not the kind of place public school kids in suburban Maryland readily relate to. If I weren’t saddled with a sister who graduated from Duke the year Elton Brand and four other players got drafted in the first round, I’d be inclined to tear my hair out every time Dickie V assaulted his vocal chords with another bout of compliments for Blue Devil “diaper dandies” too.

Maryland basketball enthusiasm seems to wax and wane now based entirely on the current length of the team’s winning streak, but hatred for Duke seems to be operating at peak efficiency. It's every bit as vibrant as it was the day Jason Williams spurred a ten-point comeback in the final minute of a game at Cole Field House. My buddies from home all prayed to every deity from every major religion in the hopes that one of them would descend on the court and swat away Duke’s game-winning shot against Belmont. They still suggest that I not walk around College Park in my Duke attire because even though I’m a Blue Devil by birth, they begrudgingly acknowledge my friendship and they’d rather not see me get beaten up by an angry, torch-wielding mob. And they still enter a state of depression every time Duke gets the best of them.

When I bragged to them about American University, the school I’m actually graduating from, knocking off the Terps back in December, most of them shrugged and got on with their lives. I may go to a school with a student body made up of predominantly rich white kids, but at least it’s not a school with a legendary basketball program.

Losing to a school like that would be too much to bear.