As a Louisville Cardinals fan, I have inherited very little in the way of tradition. Duke fans have lots to teach us about camaraderie.
Over the last month, I’ve had the privilege of cheering on my Louisville Cardinals against the Duke Blue Devils multiple times: once on an unseasonably warm night in Louisville, my hometown, and the sequel on an unseasonably icy night in Durham, my current home. In the span of three weeks, I’ve convinced three Cardinal-agnostic friends and my Cats-fan spouse to cheer on the Cardinals with me.
Let’s not talk about the result of the contest in Durham. Nor the second half collapse in Louisville. Let’s talk about fandom. From the moment they scanned my ticket, traditions of the Cameron Crazies stunned me. Every fan present participated in every moment of tradition: “Every Time We Touch," Cammy the baby, a relentless “Airball!” chant. Despite my own humiliation, I thought, “This is camaraderie. This is the best of sports bringing individuals together to form something greater as a whole.”
My fan experience hasn’t been completely without Cards camaraderie lately. In Louisville, we donned red and black and shared cold beers and foil-wrapped burgers at O’Shea’s. In Durham, we cheered during warmups, full of hope for an upset in a cathedral of college basketball. During the game, Ryan Conwell electrified us when he came up with a loose ball, accelerated across midcourt, made a hesi dribble, a crossover, a stepback and knocked down a three. We were on our feet as we went up one, 25-24 with 4:30 left to play in the first. We high-fived, embraced and screamed joyously together. During moments like these, people are united by the belief that the Louisville Cardinals can win, that our players can do the impossible.
Louisville fans lack tradition
But here is the intoxicating trap of individual fanaticism without camaraderie: when outcomes begin to slide, it becomes about individual entertainment and about winning at any cost. We become unmoored from the unification of support. As a thirty-year-old Cardinal fan, I have inherited very little in the way of tradition: no songs to close out games after wins, no rituals to jeer opposing fanbases, no shared chants to rouse our spirits when times get tough. Honestly, my Yum! Center return for the first game of consequence in years was disheartening. No L’s up during free throws. Scant "C-A-R-D-S" chants. Not a "D-FENCE" chant in the house. A “Joker and the Thief” that was several minutes too long.
In a decade where Louisville’s on-court success has reeled, our only liturgy is continuous scandal. And, perhaps, winning truly will cover a multitude of sins. But it is not inherently easy to build a fan culture like Duke’s even with marquee wins and a reportedly large NIL payroll, though it is certainly easier. During the roller coaster, the university has tried alumni coaches, halftime ceremonies and stripeouts. All are attempts at rebuilding a fan base through mere nostalgia and entertainment rather than camaraderie. Our fan base must be more than Yum! Center gimmicks, X threads and radio show hot takes. If that is our identity, then they may as well play the games in front of a noise machine and let us express our fandom via X fingers at home.
How lasting fan culture is made
In a time where online forums masquerade as real camaraderie, these in-person quirks of Duke fans teach us Louisville fans something: how the human-on-human creative spirit makes a culture. Culture is not winning basketball games. Culture is not getting a better roster for next year. Those will provide more entertainment, more opportunities for consumption. Culture is pageantry, it is tradition. It is the Cardinal Bird diving in from the rafters of Freedom Hall. It is every fan erupting “D-FENCE” every time we set a full court press. It is a parent teaching a child the words and movements of fandom explicitly, not the woes of complaint passed down implicitly.
We must not let our sports fandom be relegated to the digital, where a Louisville basketball win means a push notification and your silence on social media. But when we gather together, let’s make our collective presence count. My heart longs for traditions — for song, for cheers, for quirks — that make our fan base great, win or lose. So that when we pack the Yum!, we create the unbelievable, regardless of the outcome. When opposing fans visit our city, we should put on a show for them, just like they do in Durham.
Camaraderie is what creates a true culture and not merely a consumer market. Our history-rich but tradition-poor program needs a revitalization of camaraderie. I would love to hand my child a tradition as pride-worthy as my Cardinals, in the same way that I hope to hand them the city that birthed those Cardinals. A city and team that I hope they someday come to love. Losses, warts and all.
Bryce Rowland is a Louisville native living in Durham, North Carolina. He works as a professor at the University of North Carolina at Chapel Hill.
This article originally appeared on Louisville Courier Journal: Louisville basketball fans can learn from Duke's culture | Opinion
Category: General Sports
