Strange Times In K-Ville
From January to late February, a quarter of Duke's 6,000 undergraduates set up residence on a grassy knoll next to Cameron Arena, in order to assure themselves tickets to big home games.
Called Krzyzewskiville after beloved Duke coach Mike Krzyzewski, this tent city becomes the center of campus social life, complete with raucous parties and visits from players.
The mania is passed on like an inheritance. Naïve freshmen learn from seniors and juniors the art of the stiletto-sharp catcall, of sustaining game-long mania. "I wasn't totally insane until I got here," says Luis Villa, a sophomore from Miami who paints his face with Duke's white and blue colors for every game he attends, which is to say every home game. Villa was a member of the seventh tent in line, which meant he got excellent seats.
Precise Tenting Protocol
Because of its grave importance, "tenting" has become a tightly-regulated practice. Each tent can have no more than 15 inhabitants, one of whom must be in the tent at all times. Student government-appointed undergraduates called line monitors periodically inspect tents to make sure they are occupied. If a tent misses two checks, it loses its place in line.
Duke senior Dana Dolinoy relaxes in her home away from home, Tent #46, Krzyzewskiville.
(AP Photo)
Not surprisingly, line monitors, who are not paid, take a lot of abuse. Why do they put up with it? It's simple: in exchange for their work, they are guaranteed admission to all home games.
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"Indescribable"
For Villa as for many other Duke students, the high point of the year was Duke's come-from-behind win against arch-rival University of North Carolina on Feb. 28.
"It was indescribable," says Villa, who is majoring in mechanical engineering. "Those last couple minutes were soooo loud. We were just screaming through the timeouts and the free throws. It was the loudest noise ever heard."
Perhaps unnerved by the noise, North Carolina players missed four key free throws at the end of the game.
Krzyzewski nurtures this devotion. During the season, he buys pizza for all of K-Ville, as its popularly known. He regularly and publicly thanks the students for their support, and defends them when their antics are attacked by outsiders.
The night before the last North Carolina game, Krzyzewski held a sort of town meeting/pep rally at Cameron, where he spoke to students for an hour and a half. Students say he choked up a bit while talking about how important fan support had been.
Part of the mystique comes from Cameron itself. With only 8,000 seats, it is small compared to the arenas of most college teams. This homey feel encourages cheering. And, Duke surrounds the court with student seating, unlike most schools, which put deep-pocketed but comparatively sedate alumni close to the court and relegate students to coliseum hinterlands.
"You get a high school gym feeling there," says Neal Morgan, a sophomore who has spent much of the past two months in tent #79. "You're right there on the court. It's a madhouse."
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