What the World Needs Now

Legislative News by Nelda Holder –

Basketball.

Yep.

That’s just about all that’s been on my mind and a lot of others around me for the past week and more. And it’s been just what we needed.

I mean, I wore the same clothes when the NC State University women played their three amazing NCAA tournament games (Sweet Sixteen, Elite Eight, Final Four) before the live crowds and gazillion television fans. I wore the same “uniform” for the first two rounds with the NC State men—but didn’t want to jinx them in their Final Four moment after the ladies had lost, so I created a different fan uniform. It didn’t work, but at least I tried.

And then I got up this very Sunday morning—the “day after” the State men stalled out in the top four, like the women before them—and the news was covered with interviews with these amazing young men and women who talked about what their college basketball experiences had meant to them. And I saw the fineness of their trust in each other and their loyalty to that bond. And it just plain made me so proud.

I am (mumble mumble) years old, and I played basketball back in an era when women were only allowed to play “half-court,” being too frail (ostensibly) to run up and down the entire length of the gymnasium, especially for up to two hours of game time. And just LOOK at ’em now!

But before there was college women’s basketball in my part of the world, I honed my love for the game by listening at night to the NC State men’s games on the radio (there was, gasp!, no television), and the drone of the announcers backed up by the roar of the crowd is still music to my ears.

My mom, dad, and I were the State fans in the house. My older brother foolishly favored Carolina (UNC). I remained loyal and eventually graduated from NC State University. Then I moved away for a while (including a long stint in beloved Asheville), and when I returned to Raleigh there were granddaughters to indoctrinate and accompany to games. Women’s games, more precisely—because there ARE women’s games now.

So this season was a bit of a family affair, and all of us have been screaming in front of the TV during the 2024 NCAA Tournament. But there’s so much more that I’ve noticed around me during this end-of-season mania we’ve experienced than just the spectacles on the tube.

For several weeks, the focus around town has been on the sport. Not on what’s wrong at City Council or in the Legislature in this capital city. Not who’s upset with which city services. Not the crime rate. Not the pot holes. For several lovely weeks, almost all we’ve talked about is basketball! NC State basketball! Kevin Keatts and Wes Moore (the men’s and women’s highly successful coaches).

The “D.J.s”—Burns (Jr.) and Horne (who is from Raleigh). Saniya Rivers. River Baldwin. All the rest.

And hundreds and hundreds of fans have poured out into the streets to surround the famous Memorial Belltower in the heart of Wolfpack Land—which was bathed in a deep red light and surrounded by happy students, moms, dads, kids, in huge numbers. And this weekend, one of the main arteries for traffic downtown was upstaged by a gigantic video screen and the closing of an entire block of busy roadway just so avid fans could watch together from the heart of city’s Wolfpack district.

It has been a bit of a miracle to wear my NCSU Women’s Basketball shirt around town and know it will be greeted with a smile—no matter the political affiliation of the person opposite me nor how Carolina blue their skin. Er, shirt.

Read that paragraph again.

For days and days, the City of Raleigh has been one big happy family rooting for our kids wearing those bright red uniforms adorned with the hopes of thousands and thousands of people.

All of us—pulling for the same thing.

Not just pulling for a win…. Something much more ephemeral and precious. A good game—played by the rules with superior talent getting to shine and with sportsmanship also getting to shine. Everyone appreciating the talent on the floor. Everyone an integral part of something so much bigger as a whole.

How long has that exquisite feeling been missing from the air? How long have we approached each other tentatively in the streets and stores? How long have we felt “politics” and “attitude” pushing us away from our common humanity and placing us in strident tribes to scream at each other?

Those are the thoughts I was having during this incredible period of time when a land-grant university, North Carolina State University, pulled out all the stops and just plain went for broke on behalf of us all.

Sure, these players (and coaches) come from a lot of different places. Although we did get to claim one of the two now-infamous “D.J.” fellows—the one who is literally from Raleigh. But they had all wound up in the Wolfpack family on the State campus, and they had pledged their loyalty. So they played their hearts out—all season—and Raleigh responded.

It really had been a very long time since I’d felt so much positive energy pointed in the same direction. It was infectious. It was miraculous. It made me so happy. And so proud. See—I’m sitting here writing this with a huge smile on my face right now . . . after both teams have returned to town without moving past the Final Four. It’s really hard to even be disappointed—they represented us so well both in spirit and talent.

And besides. We were all in this together.

I don’t want to let go of that “together.”

I want it to spread all over the state. Then move across the country. I want the joy and hope of “together” to wash away the crust of “mine” that dictates so much of American life, and let “ours” take its place.

Those Wolfpack teams were “ours” these past few weeks. Our representatives, our hopes, our champions, our spirit.

You see, folks, that’s teamwork at its finest. I’m wishing with all my heart that Team America—too long now preoccupied with separatism and spite—is going to decide to suit up and play ball. Together.

And yes, since this is normally a column pertaining to North Carolina government, let me add that sportsmanship, loyalty to the whole team and its institution, and application of the best skills for the best outcome for all, could certainly go a long way in the separatist halls of the General Assembly. So suit up, y’all.

Nelda Holder is the author of The Thirteenth Juror – Ferguson: A Personal Look at the Grand Jury Transcripts.