One Last Shot: Saying Goodbye to UNC Basketball and to College

I knew this moment was coming. Every March, it’s inevitable—either your team wins it all, or your season ends in heartbreak. But knowing doesn’t make it any easier.

Franklin St. after beating Duke in the Final Four my freshman year.

Yesterday, UNC men’s basketball fell short in the NCAA Tournament, and just like that, it was over. The season, the hope, the what-ifs. And for RJ Davis, the last Roy Williams recruit, his college career ended right there on the court.

It’s hard not to take it personally. RJ was the last link to the era that brought us so much—the last remnant of a time when Roy sat on the bench, when a championship still felt just within reach. And yesterday was his last game in Carolina blue. Just like yesterday was my last Carolina basketball game as a student.

This morning, I woke up to a TikTok video—a montage of RJ’s time at Carolina, from his first walk out of the tunnel to his final shot. Highlight reels, moments of triumph, clips of him in the jersey that’s become part of his identity. And for a second, it didn’t feel real. Then, it hit me: this was his last game. And this was my last, too. The last time I’d watch Carolina basketball as a student, the last time I’d feel that rush of being part of something bigger than myself.

Fifty days from now, I graduate. Fifty days until I leave the place that’s been home for the past four years. And just like RJ, I knew this was coming. The finality of it all. I watched him fight to the very end, carrying this team the way he has all season, and I couldn’t help but see myself in it—the feeling of wanting just a little more time, of knowing that no matter how much you give, it still has to end.

Carolina basketball has been more than a team to me. It’s been a constant—something to rally around, something to believe in, something that made this place feel even more like home. It’s the games in the Dean Dome, the rush of Franklin Street victories, the agony of close losses, and the unbreakable bond of being part of a fanbase that just gets it.

I remember my first game as a freshman, walking into the Dean Dome and feeling the weight of history around me. The banners, the jerseys in the rafters, the sound of the fight song filling the air. I remember thinking about all the players who came before, the legends who made this place what it is. And now, just like RJ, I find myself at the end of my chapter, looking back on everything that’s happened since that first game.

One of my first games in the Dean Dome as a freshman, in 2021.

There’s something poetic about the timing—RJ’s last game marking the beginning of my countdown to graduation. He’s leaving behind a legacy, and in a smaller way, I guess I am too. College is a series of hellos and goodbyes, of moments that feel infinite until they aren’t. And just like RJ’s last shot, there comes a point when you realize there’s no more time left on the clock.

Now, it’s over. For him, for this team, and, in a way, for me too. There will be more seasons, more teams, more players who take the court and chase their own Carolina dreams. But for us—for this team, this class, this moment—it’s the end of an era.

I’ll be back in the stands one day, just like RJ will be back in the Dean Dome. But it won’t be the same. And maybe that’s the hardest part.

Last Duke game, senior year, 2025.

Fifty days. That’s all that’s left of my time as a student here. If yesterday was any reminder, it’s that endings come fast. All we can do is make the most of what’s left. Cherish the moments, take it all in, and leave knowing you gave it everything you had. Because once the buzzer sounds, all that’s left are the memories—and Carolina memories are forever.