“Hatred comes from the heart; contempt from the head; and neither feeling is quite within our control.” – Arnold Schopenhauer

Great hate follows great love. That is always the way such things work. If you commit yourself to having a remarkable passion for something, you will come to despise anything and everything that competes with it. To do so is primal, and realistic: you care enough about one that it is only natural to oppose the other. Challengers and rivals of those things we love very quickly become our enemies, and the feuds that follow can sometimes evolve to become more obsessive than the initial love was in the first place.

There are those who would tell you that this sort of extremism is wrong, that love and hate exist not as opposing points on a spectrum but as ideas that should be understood independently and not in relative terms. Only over zealous fanatics practice this sort of “with us or against us” attitude. It is that kind of “red state, blue state” thinking that Barack Obama became famous for speaking against. Pardon my inner fanboy, but to think that those not standing with me are certainly my enemy is a kind of absolute that only Sith lords deal in. Hate does not make a good counselor for men’s souls, I fear.

But then again who can deny the joy and passionate response found from deeply loathing something? Who can claim they do not find some guilty pleasure in finding opponents insufferable? It was Lord Byron that said that “Hatred is by far the longest pleasure; Men love in haste, but they detest at leisure.”

It is not such an uncommon happening then that one of my great loves was sprung primarily from my one great hate. My profound passion for the University of North Carolina basketball program was, at least in part, hastened and prodded by my abhorrence for Duke. I loved Jerry Stackhouse and Rasheed Wallace, but I loved them even more as a result of my childish disgust with Grant Hill and Christian Laettner. I wax poetic about Roy Williams brilliance, but that fondness only takes real meaning next to my contempt for Mike Krzyzewski.

I am not alone in my hatred of all things Durham. While they are beloved by many and unquestionably one of the most profitable programs in the country, the Blue Devils are clearly also the most hated team in the country. The near 1.7 million returns from Googling ‘I Hate Duke’ speaks to that, as does the article Michael Tiedemann recently wrote.

Duke students and alumni would have you think that this loathing stems only from jealousy of their great success over the past 25 years. That is part of it, as is the perceived exclusiveness of the school’s admissions. By any standard, Duke University an elite academic institution and its basketball program is a model of excellence with respect to its graduation rate, its winning percentage on the floor, and its clean record in recruiting. I doubt any sober mind could cite these as reasonable knocks against the school or the team.

In fact, I, a staunch Carolina supporter, applaud them for their sustained dominance. After all, it is better to be hated for what you are than loved for what you are not, and Duke is hated in part because it is great.

But what I believe draws the real venom from fans is the nepotism showed to them by the Dick Vitale’s of the world, the arrogance of their fan base, and the pretentiousness of their coach. That is simply my opinion and I recognize that I am a terrible practitioner of partiality on this topic: I painted my bedroom Carolina blue when I was 10 years old, began videotaping UNC games when I was 11, purchased a Joe Forte jersey when I was 13, and to this day have an earmarked copy of Dean Smith’s autobiography on my nightstand.

My favoritism is present and it is clear.

That is why I did not compile a list of reasons why you should hate Duke, or even an exhaustive catalog – as if there were enough pages in all the world – of reasons why I do. Instead, on the cusp of what is sure to be another larger-than-life battle between UNC and Duke, between the lightness and the dark, between good and evil, I just wished to submit a kind suggestion that you tune in and choose a side in the struggle.

If you care about the game and its ability to tell us something greater about ourselves, if you use it to identify yourself and your beliefs, or you care about its power to inspire, tune in and indulge in power of this rivalry.

It is truly a gift to the game and its culture.