Sparks from the Anvil: Dexter Strickland

When the jerseys are woven from threads of sky, is it any wonder that North Carolina basketball eclipses Greek mythology in the eyes of its fanbase? Phil Ford, Michael Jordan, George Lynch, Antawn Jamison, Sean May, and Tyler Hansbrough are a Tar Heel fan's pantheon; beings who seemingly walked down from Mount Olympus and put the world to right, crafted rivers, shaped mountains, and seduced cheerleaders, without even having to rely on the old swan gimmick. For better or worse, athletes have usurped the Olympians in the modern world just as the Olympians usurped the Titans, and while the gods change, the actions of the true believers remain the same. I believe in Carolina basketball, which is why even in a nineteen point loss to Clemson I can find a silver lining, and the silver lining from Wednesday's game is freshman shooting guard Dexter Strickland.

To understand the importance of Dexter Strickland's 17 point performance on 8 for 10 shooting at Little John Coliseum, one must first understand how people are made uncomfortable by gods that sweat and toil as if they were human. People do not want their gods to be flawed. People do not want their gods to be weak. People want their gods to do everything they can not do. In other words, man seeks to worship a god he can live through vicariously, and no man wants to be Hephaestus. Hephaestus, the god of the forge, never stands upright, but slumps over his anvil, hammer in hand, sweating; and as the myth of his birth goes, his mother Hera found him so hideous she hurtled him from the heights of Olympus down to the hard Earth that left him lame and limping. While Hephaestus survived the fall and went on to be a great inventor and worker, one must wonder how many ancient Greeks rushed to worship at the temple of a handicapped god--the very word "god" seems to presume perfection--so Hephaestus began his existence as less than the ideal he represented. Acknowledging the early onset of his physical limitations allows one to see the fault in those who wish for this cripple to be like Hermes or any other Olympian. Hephaestus never dwelled in the arete of achievement, but in the valley of failed expectations; his disgusting appearance costing him not only the love of his mother but the love of his wife as well. Hephaestus' contribution to the mythic cannon is one of loneliness and pain, or endless toil for the fame of others--his work became Zeus' thunder.

North Carolina began its title defense as a top five team, but they now stand at 12-5, having lost two of their last three games. This team is clearly not a championship one, and may struggle to finish in the top three of the ACC, a position coveted by Dean Smith's consistency. While this year's Carolina team battles with its own youth and inexperience, many of its fans are already beginning to look for new gods to worship, rejecting Hephaestus and searching for Ares. Fans love players that win, but fans can also turn quickly from those they once loved as soon as those loved ones fail to be what they imagined. Marcus Ginyard and Deon Thompson, in the eyes of many Carolina fans, have failed to continue perfection. People presumed they would easily fill the void of Tyler Hansbrough, Tywon Lawson, and Wayne Ellington, following the steps of Helios as easily as Apollo did, and that no one would notice the change as long as the sun continued to rise. The sun failed to rise, and the general population now grows restless, waiting for a sign that the gods are still holy, or, as in the tale of Hephaestus, the fans like a goddess grown tired of marital stalemates turn their backs on the blacksmith husband and look for a passionate warrior to be their lover. The strenuous search for a sign is underway.

Following a loss in which the Heels had 26 turnovers, Carolina fans recognize Deon Thompson and Marcus Ginyard for what they are--blacksmiths. Deon hunches over the anvil, sweating from the forge's flames, while Marcus limps around, having been thrown from the heights of Olympus for failing, despite his efficiency, to be as beautiful as his predecessors. These two players are failed gods, and whether that is their fault or ours--Aphrodite has left them. This team is no longer theirs. Early in the second half, Roy Williams benched all five starters and inserted five freshmen: Dexter Strickland, Leslie McDonald, John Henson, David Wear, and Travis Wear. The switch occurred because the starting five appeared to lack the necessary fire to compete, a poor sign indeed for would be blacksmiths, and gave Dexter Strickland and the other freshmen a chance to earn Aphrodite's favor. Wednesday the smoke from the alter began to dissipate, and surely Roy Williams began to see who the true dogs of war may be:

Dexter Strickland was a cold-blooded assassin, standing tall and upright as his teammates collapsed under the weight of Clemson's hammer, a lone spark amidst the darkness. Listen carefully and one might hear the distant rumblings of thunder.