What is G? | Sports in Stilettos

According to a Maryland fan's sign at the Comcast Center the other night, it means "Gary and Grievis not Going anywhere."

It's also for "Grateful," which is how I felt about being able to watch the game, live and in-person, with my dad. And watch and enjoy is exactly what I did Wednesday in College Park where, from my perch high above the blond hardwood court, I cheered, yelled, clapped, gasped, groaned, and barely stayed in my seat as Duke narrowly defeated my Maryland Terrapins.

Despite the L, it was a much better game than last month's bloody massacre in Durham, or even last year's uninspiring loss at home. I was at last year's game, and as great as the seats were, as pumped up as the atmosphere was, and as happy as I was to be there (thanks for taking me, G), I felt like I shouldn't be.

See, I grew up with a huge Maryland basketball fan for a father, and the importance of the Maryland-Duke game was not lost on me, even if I did run screaming from the room every time he turned a game on. I was aware that many people would've loved to be in my seat, and I felt extremely privileged and grateful I was able to attend. I also felt like a fraud.

I wanted to "get" basketball so I could enjoy it along with many other people in my life, but I never really caught on. I wanted to cheer and yell at the refs and jump up and down, but I was too self-conscious, and I didn't understand the game well enough to know when to cheer. I struggled to grasp basketball, so I struggled to appreciate it. I was mildly interested when I was at the game with the student section right in front of me, but the Duke game is not meant for the mildly interested. The entire time, I felt someone else should be there, someone who really cared, one of the people who would really, really love to be at the game.

Someone like my dad.

So this year, I took him. He seemed completely off-guard when I gave him the tickets, probably because the juxtaposition of Justine and basketball is a totally foreign concept for most people.

This time, I was ready. I walked into the Comcast Center knowing not only who the players were, but that Greivis Vasquez scored 35 points in the OT win over UNC (which, of course, I watched) en route to garnering Maryland's first triple-double in over 20 years. AND I even knew what that meant, even if my dad couldn't quite figure out WHY I'd learned what that meant, after years of "hating" basketball. I guess I just needed to learn to love it on my own, not because anyone else wanted me to.

Rocking the Maryland sweatshirt I begged to get for Christmas and a Terps t-shirt I bought myself, clapping so hard a stone fell out of my ring (true story), and holding my breath every time we went to the foul line, I was a different girl than a year ago, when I gazed at the action blankly, eyes glazing over as players rushed here and there with seemingly no rhyme or reason or game plan.

This time, even without helpful tv and radio announcers telling me what was going on, I could (mostly) follow what was happening. I saw that beautiful Dave Neal block that left Duke's Nolan Smith on the ground while Neal made a 3-pointer.

G = Greatest play of the Game. (And, since Dave Neal is my favorite Terp and I got to see it in person, probably greatest play of the season for me). If I wasn't a newly-obsessed fan already, that football-caliber hit would've won my loyalty.

As my dad said, that block - which I've been replaying over and over and over ever since - made the game entirely worth it. So did getting to ogle the crystal championship trophy up close, which neither of us had ever seen before. Plus, it was Maryland-Duke and the crowd was amazing and the game was great, even though the Terps faded at the end.

If they'd managed to win, it would've been P. Perfect.