Max Sloan

For a minute there, it sounded like Mack Brown was quitting.

When it ends, whenever it ends, we are left with a choice. Do we remember a man who cared deeply for his players, who was well-regarded and well-respected by fans and player’s families alike? Do we remember a coach who came into Chapel Hill toting hope not once, but twice? Do we remember the mannerisms, the sloping Tennessee accent, the old-school congeniality that so easily charmed recruits into playing for Carolina, then Texas, then Carolina again, however briefly?

One must imagine Sisyphus happy, apparently.

There’s a weariness that runs deeper than any sleep can reach.

The Tar Heels keep getting knocked down. What’s next?

Few things scarier than a team with nothing to lose

Teams used to sag off of Elliot Cadeau when he stood behind the three-point line. Even the playmaker that he was, a prodigious passer with a blindingly quick first step, he wasn’t exactly a threat from downtown in his freshman season. This led to defenses being more able to collapse into the paint and shut down Armando Bacot, or commit more fully to help defense should RJ Davis break his man down off the dribble. The offense stalls, even with such a dynamic talent on the ball, if the defense can lay back and wait for the game to come to them. Without at least the threat of an undefended shot finding the bottom of the net, an offense loses an important dimension in today’s outside-in game.

The Tar Heels have two and a half games remaining on their schedule. This weekend’s tilt against Boston College, then an end-of-November matchup with the team from Raleigh to cap the regular season—that’s two. Then, sometime in December, a trip to a mid-tier bowl that will doubtlessly be played without either team at full strength—that’s the half game.

Bill Belichick has forgotten more about the game of football than I will ever know. This is no secret; even when I actively played football, I was less of a scheme guy and more of a vibes-based linebacker—we lost a bunch of games. The finer points of the game, specifically the kind of knowledge that a coach would need, always paled in comparison to the forces of nature clashing on the field, and head injuries and time have eaten away at what knowledge I did once possess.

It’s supposed to snow in Chapel Hill today. Everytime there’s even the chance of a flurry here in the central part of the state, things grind to a halt, and I’ve always loved that. Folks from colder climes like to make their snide little comments about being better equipped to drive in the snow, regardless of how true it is (which, for the record, it isn’t; they’re just as bad at driving on ice as we are).