Crossing the Streams

Dr. Egon Spengler: Don’t cross the streams.
Dr. Peter Venkman: Why?
Dr. Egon Spengler: It would be bad.
Dr. Peter Venkman: I’m fuzzy on the whole good/bad thing. What do you mean, “bad”?
Dr. Egon Spengler: Try to imagine all life as you know it stopping instantaneously and every molecule in your body exploding at the speed of light.
Dr Ray Stantz: Total protonic reversal.
Dr. Peter Venkman: Right. That’s bad. Okay. All right. Important safety tip. Thanks, Egon.

I may have hit upon a theory that explains Carolina’s catastrophic first half meltdown against Kansas in the Final Four. Bamagrad’s post in an earlier column of mine got me thinking. We must have crossed the streams.

Bamagrad noted that Roy’s ugly ties are usually a harbinger of good mojo for the Heels.  Or at least, they had been.  Against Kansas, it didn’t work.  In fact, nothing Roy, or the players, or you or I could do helped.  Living Room TV on, sound down, Woody on? Nope.  Change seats? Nope.  Stand? Nope.  Woody only? Nope. Woody off, Billy grrrrrr Packer on? Nope.  Move to the bedroom TV? Nope.  Listening to Woody in the dark?  That seemed to help a little as the Heels climbed back into it, but in the end, that didn’t work either.

Could it be that all of our hard earned in-game superstitions are for naught?  That would be impossible.  The only other explanation is that the combined good vibes of previously-unheard-of numbers of Tar Heel faithful caused a rip in the space-time continuum akin to a “crossing of the streams” effect, and we created anti-mojo.  Sort of a “traveling so fast that time goes backward” sort of thing.

I don’t know what to make of the long-term effects of such an event.  Nor do I know how to plan to counteract it in the future.  I am simply left with comfort of knowing that there is a rational explanation for how badly we played in the first half of a Final Four game.