Culture
Why UNC star RJ Davis couldn’t resist returning for his fifth season — and one more shot
Welcome to the heartbeat. Take a seat.
The Davis family living room in their White Plains, N.Y., home is, in many ways, ordinary. Two well-worn, cream-colored sofas directly across from each other. A circular coffee table between them. Floor-to-ceiling bay windows, with decorative candles on the ledge. And the soundtrack to it all? Usually, barking, courtesy of the family Yorkshire terrier, Diggy.
“Any life decisions we make,” RJ Davis said, “yep, in that living room.”
About five years ago, there was something else in that space, too: a poster board. On it, Davis, then a high school senior, had written the names of each of his four college finalists, the schools the four-star guard was considering attending. To make his choice, Davis used one of his mother Venessa’s favorite practices. “Pros and cons,” she said. “As a psychologist, it’s something you use a lot.” With Venessa and the rest of his family — father Rob, younger brother Bryce and, of course, Diggy — gathered in the living room, Davis worked through his options.
When he’d finished writing, the decision was obvious: North Carolina.
If he only knew then what the next four years would hold.
An up-and-down freshman season that ended with Roy Williams’ shocking retirement. Then a slog of a sophomore year — until the Tar Heels turned into a rocket ship and manufactured one of the most miraculous Final Four runs in March Madness history. That led to hype entering Davis’ junior year, all of which promptly went up in flames as UNC became the first preseason No. 1 team in the modern era to miss the NCAA Tournament. And, finally, Davis’ senior season, when he sprouted into a full-blown star, posting one of the best individual campaigns in the baby blue blood’s storied history.
𝘽𝙖𝙘𝙠 𝙖𝙣𝙙 𝙧𝙚𝙖𝙙𝙮 𝙛𝙤𝙧 𝙢𝙤𝙧𝙚.@ariidavis_ is the 2024 ACC Preseason Player of the Year!
🔗 https://t.co/eeqt3A1Enc pic.twitter.com/pMR3OiwYtT
— ACC Men’s Basketball (@accmbb) October 15, 2024
This spring, at the end of April, the Davis family once again gathered in their operations center. Another decision needed to be made: Would Davis — a first-team All-American last season and one of college basketball’s most recognizable figures — return to college for a fifth season, available because of the COVID-19 pandemic, or go pro?
Because Davis is only 6 feet, the feedback he received from the NBA Draft advisory committee suggested he’d go late in the second round or undrafted entirely. But coming off his best season, what more could he prove to scouts?
“I’ve always had dreams and aspirations of playing at the next level, of playing in the NBA,” he said, “and it’s like, why not right now?”
Davis settled into one of the sofas. Time to talk.
The first weekend of April, Davis was exactly where he’d dreamed of being: Phoenix, the site of the Final Four.
Just not for the reason he’d hoped.
That’s because the past two seasons, Davis had a singular motivation: a redo. Ever since North Carolina magically stormed through the NCAA Tournament in Hubert Davis’ debut season, advancing all the way to the 2022 national title game, he wanted another crack at college hoops immortality. He was 20 minutes and a 15-point halftime lead versus Kansas away from hanging a seventh NCAA championship banner in the Dean Smith Center, and then, whoosh, everything evaporated. He’s one of five active players left from that team but the only one still wearing Carolina blue.
Last season, Davis unequivocally became “the guy” for the first time in his college career, especially after his three-year backcourt mate, Caleb Love, transferred to Arizona. And he did everything in his power to will the Tar Heels back to that stage while rewriting UNC’s record books. Davis went from averaging 12 points and three assists per game during his first three seasons in Chapel Hill to setting career highs in points (21.2 per game), 3-point percentage (39.8), assist-to-turnover ratio (better than 2-1) and steals (1.2). But most importantly, he led UNC to its first ACC regular-season title and No. 1 seed in the NCAA Tournament since 2019.
A redo, suddenly, seemed like a very realistic possibility.
Then came the Sweet 16. Red-hot Alabama. And Davis, for the first time all season, went cold. He’d made at least one 3-pointer in all 36 games to that point but went 0-for-9 from deep in a 2-point loss to the Crimson Tide.
“Shots I normally make,” Davis said. “Had I made one 3 …”
His voice trailed off.
“I kind of felt like it was my fault, just because we were so close to reaching … everything.”
A week later, Davis was there in the desert as a finalist for the Naismith College Player of the Year Award, presented annually at the Final Four. Even brushing elbows with the biggest names in the sport, being recognized for his on-court excellence, Davis couldn’t shake one underlying thought: I’d rather be playing.
He couldn’t bring himself to turn on any of that weekend’s Final Four games.
On one hand, Davis’ jam-packed trophy case spoke for itself, including ACC Player of the Year and the Jerry West Award (given annually to the nation’s top shooting guard). He etched himself into North Carolina lore, in the same stratosphere of excellence as some of the school’s best guards, names such as Phil Ford, Ty Lawson and, yes, even Michael Jordan. By virtue of his accomplishments, his jersey is going the same place theirs did: the Smith Center rafters.
But at the same time, he couldn’t stop ruminating. On the loss to Alabama. The what-ifs. Every minute detail that added up to defeat.
By the time he landed back in Chapel Hill, offseason roster-building was already in full swing. Hubert Davis was holding end-of-season meetings with all his players. And Davis knew what his head coach was going to ask, whenever they sat down:
So, RJ, what are you going to do?
Tyler Hansbrough doesn’t play much basketball these days.
“My knees,” the now-39-year-old joked. “If I’m on the court, my knees are gonna have some issues.”
But Hansbrough still works out regularly, even sneaking over to the Smith Center for a lift when he can. One day in April, he was finishing a session when a familiar face approached.
“Rarely do I try to give anybody advice,” Hansbrough said, “but he actually asked me.”
It makes sense why Davis sought Hansbrough out. The star guard spoke to plenty of people in his circle about what he should do: Armando Bacot, his four-year teammate and close friend; Cam Johnson, arguably UNC’s top active NBA player; Theo Pinson, who won the program’s last championship in 2017; and even Marcus Paige, now on North Carolina’s coaching staff. But nobody could offer the perspective Hansbrough could.
That’s because about 15 years ago, Hansbrough was in the same bind. After his standout junior season, when the 6-foot-9 forward was the unanimous national player of the year, averaging a career-best 22.6 points and 10.2 rebounds, he, too, had a pro decision to make. Had he declared, based on feedback that then-coach Williams had gathered, Hansbrough learned he likely would’ve been a late lottery pick.
Tyler Hansbrough didn’t regret his decision to return to UNC for another run. (Rich Clarkson / NCAA Photos via Getty Images)
But like Davis, he couldn’t get his mind off a recent NCAA Tournament heartbreak. UNC had just lost to Kansas in the 2008 Final Four, only its third defeat all season, and Hansbrough hadn’t been at his best.
“Everyone thinks that whenever you get a chance to go to the NBA, you have to go. But if you believe in yourself and you think you can be a pro, one more year in college, that’s not going to derail your pro chances,” Hansbrough said. “One more year wasn’t going to change anything for me, and I felt like I could improve.”
And?
“And we had a chance to win a national championship.”
The rest is history. Hansbrough came back, and his decision was validated when UNC did win the national title his senior season. Hansbrough was right about his pro prospects, too; the Indiana Pacers selected him 13th in the 2009 NBA Draft, the same late-lottery range that was forecast for him a year prior.
The other consideration Hansbrough mentioned to Davis? Name, image and likeness, which didn’t exist in his heyday. Davis knew NIL wouldn’t be the primary factor in his decision — “If money wasn’t involved, I’d still be playing basketball,” he said. But by virtue of his record-setting senior season, he’d earned a bevy of endorsement deals: Crocs, Verizon and one of his favorites, JBL. (Although it probably wasn’t his neighbors’ favorite; Davis’ JBL speaker may or may not have earned him a noise complaint at his apartment complex. “There’s a bass boost, so I always press that,” Davis said with a wry smile, “and the next thing you know, it’s boom.”)
Hansbrough explained his thought process to Davis in UNC’s weight room and left him with one final thought.
“You can listen to all the most important people in your life,” Hansbrough said, “and you can take their advice — which you should value — but you’re the only one that has to live your life.”
Not long after his talk with Hansbrough, Davis returned to White Plains.
“I like to go home and get grounded,” he said, “because that’s where I feel safe, and that’s where my heart lives.”
Still unsure of what he’d do, the guard continued training. Most days, he met with his skills trainer, Ross Burns, at the local Life Time Fitness, and he regularly drove to Connecticut to meet with a strength and conditioning specialist. And between those sessions, it wasn’t uncommon for Davis to swing by his old high school, Archbishop Stepinac, for an early morning or late-night shooting session.
“My good companions here in the building are our maintenance guys,” said Patrick Massaroni, Davis’ high school coach at Stepinac. “We make it work.”
Other schools poked around Davis, his parents said, seeing if he’d consider entering the transfer portal, but UNC and the NBA were the only options he considered. Whenever he thought he’d made up his mind, that lingering memory of not winning a championship reared its head.
“My mind,” he said, “was changing every day.”
GO DEEPER
Men’s college basketball preseason All-Americans: Sears, Flagg, Davis lead the way
With the May 1 deadline for Davis to decide rapidly approaching, he had to stop waffling. So, back to the living room for final deliberations.
Bryce — now a freshman at Albany — wasn’t in town, so Davis FaceTimed his younger brother and put the phone in his lap. Rob and Venessa sat across from him on the opposite sofa. Diggy scurried across the hardwood floor.
Rob and Venessa reiterated what Hansbrough said: It’s your life, and you have to live with your choice.
With his mind racing, Davis stepped outside to gather his thoughts. He sat down on the family’s front porch steps and made a phone call.
To Williams, the coach who recruited him to UNC in the first place.
He walked around the block on the phone, and then came back to the family living room. “Whatever they talked about, he didn’t share,” Venessa said, “but it seemed to settle him, for sure.”
Davis didn’t make up his mind right then, but a few days later, Davis came downstairs from his bedroom and announced he’d made his decision.
Davis kept his decision close to the vest. He told his parents, obviously. Hubert Davis. But he didn’t even text his teammates.
“I wanted,” he said, flashing a toothy grin, “to keep people on their toes a little bit.”
So on the night of April 30, Davis set a timer on his phone for 3 a.m. and went to sleep. When the alarm went off, he woke up and posted a highlight video to Instagram with a simple two-word caption: “I’m back.” And then … Davis put his phone on “Do Not Disturb” and went back to bed.
The ultimate mic drop, letting the college basketball world stir while he slept.
“It wasn’t like I was saying no to my dreams (of playing in the NBA); it’s more so, I’m putting them on pause,” Davis said. “Besides the year I had this past year, there was no greater feeling than playing in that Final Four and playing in that national championship my sophomore year. I just remember watching the ball go up, and the buzzer sound hit, and we were on the losing side. … I want to be on that winning side.”
His decision finally behind him, Davis drilled down on his shooting the rest of the summer, motivated by that 0-for-9 showing against Alabama.
How much of his training was done through an NBA lens, knowing he’ll likely have to play point guard because of his size? Not much.
“That’s where guys get in trouble: They start listening to critics or scouts and start thinking they’ve got to change something,” Burns said. “No. Really, just keep being the dominant, elite shooter and scorer you are — and because you’re going to have more eyeballs on you, be a facilitator.”
So far, so good on that front: Through three games, Davis has 14 assists against just three turnovers. No. 10 UNC plays Hawaii on Friday and begins play Monday in the Maui Invitational.
There is so much still on the table for Davis this season, but three things stand above the rest.
A December rematch with Alabama as part of the ACC-SEC Challenge. The chance for Davis, if he scores the same number of points he did last season, to tie Hansbrough atop UNC’s, and the ACC’s, all-time scoring list (albeit with an extra season). “That’s hard to put into perspective,” he said. “Once I graduate and officially leave, then it’ll hit me. Like, wow, I really accomplished a lot of great things here.” And finally?
Hang a banner. Complete the redo.
“I’m just going to fulfill this moment,” Davis said, “and make the best of it.”
(Top photo of Elon’s Nick Dorn and UNC’s RJ Davis: Grant Halverson / Getty Images)
Culture
Finding Wisdom in a Poem by Wendy Cope
Where do you turn when you need advice? A chatbot? A life coach? A wise and trusted friend?
How about a poet? Poets may not be famous for making the best life choices, but because they subject the mess of human existence to the discipline of language, they can be as helpful as any therapist or mentor.
Good poets know the rules and when to break them, which is something they can teach the rest of us.
To wit:
Giving advice is a peculiar literary undertaking. It flourishes in certain popular genres — graduation speeches, newspaper columns, country and western songs and poems like this one — but what, in these contexts, is it really for?
I’m thinking of situations when you don’t urgently need help but nonetheless enjoy reading answers to questions you may not have thought to ask. What interests you isn’t the content of the advice — you could get all the life hacks you want from A.I. — so much as the voice of the person dispensing it.
Wendy Cope is an English poet, born in 1945, who has been a fixture of her country’s literary scene since the 1980s. More recently, her short, buoyant poem “The Orange” has been widely memed online, bringing her to the attention of new readers beyond Britain.
Cope favors rhyme, meter, brisk jokes and tart aperçus. She addresses romance, friendship and the petty absurdities of modern life with disarming good humor. The last line of “The Orange” is “I love you. I’m glad I exist.” Somehow she makes it the opposite of cringe.
This isn’t the kind of poetry you would describe as “confessional.” And yet …
Question 1/7
Stop, if the car is going “clunk”
Or if the sun has made you blind.
Don’t answer e–mails when you’re drunk.
Tap a word above to fill in the highlighted blank.Want to learn this poem by heart? We’ll help.
Fill in the missing words below. You can always refer to the reading by A.O. Scott and full
text above.Let’s start with the first stanza.
Culture
Can You Match the Places These Authors Lived With Settings in Their Books?
A strong sense of place can deeply influence a story, and in some cases, the setting can even feel like a character itself. This week’s literary geography quiz highlights places where authors were born (or lived) that later became locations in their books. To play, just make your selection in the multiple-choice list and the correct answer will be revealed. At the end of the quiz, you’ll find links to the works if you’d like to do further reading.
Culture
Book Review: ‘America, U.S.A.,’ by Eddie S. Glaude Jr.
AMERICA, U.S.A.: How Race Shadows the Nation’s Anniversaries, by Eddie S. Glaude Jr.
For those of us in the national memory-keeping business, anniversaries hold near-totemic power. Satisfyingly round units of time, ideally bearing fancy, Latin-derived names, serve as the overburdened pegs on which to hang think pieces and museum exhibits, revisionist documentaries and maudlin public ceremonies. The arbitrary nature of such occasions is precisely what gives them their charge, inviting us to set aside complacency and submit to a comprehensive check-in.
In his new book, “America, U.S.A.,” Eddie S. Glaude Jr. presents an intriguing variation on the genre, seeing the country’s 250th birthday as an anniversary of anniversaries: 50 years since the malaise-ridden, schlock-heavy Bicentennial. A century since the subdued Prohibition-era Sesquicentennial. A century and a half since telegraphed reports of George Armstrong Custer’s defeat by the Lakota and Cheyenne at Little Bighorn rudely interrupted the Gilded Age Republic’s 100th birthday party.
If an anniversary offers a snapshot of a moment, the core of Glaude’s book is an old-timey photo album, a collection of notable episodes from earlier national reckonings, long-ago glances in the mirror. An estimable scholar of Black history, politics and religion at Princeton — best known for “Begin Again,” his 2020 meditation on James Baldwin’s relevance for our times — Glaude focuses, as his subtitle puts it, on “how race shadows the nation’s anniversaries.”
Such celebrations, he contends, have never really been the moments for honest self-reflection they are often advertised to be. Instead, the nation usually shatters the mirror, refusing to accept what it prefers not to see. “American anniversaries are often moments to turn a blind eye to the evils of the past and the present,” Glaude writes, “to suppress the fact of America’s divided soul.”
It’s a clever concept, and, needless to say, perfectly timed. Last year, Glaude notes, the Trump administration executed a hostile takeover of the government’s studiously bipartisan 250th anniversary planning. It is now preparing a program that is certain to conceal more than it reveals about the country ostensibly being celebrated.
Glaude, in no mood for celebration, argues that such omissions and evasions also defined commemorations in the past. In 1875, Frederick Douglass predicted “one grand Centennial hosannah of peace and good will to all the white race of this country.” He was right: The nation reached 100 years old at a crucial moment in the post-Civil War fight over racial equality, with white Northerners ready to give up on Southern Reconstruction. The occasion would help the once-warring sections to reunite around a shared commitment to white supremacy. On May 10, 1876, at the opening of the Centennial Exposition in Philadelphia, the police tried to bar Douglass from the grandstand, until a white politician vouched for him.
The 150th anniversary came soon after a resurgent Ku Klux Klan successfully pushed for a restrictive immigration law aimed at keeping America a “Nordic” nation. At the lavishly funded, lightly attended celebrations in Philadelphia, Black veterans of World War I were excluded from marching in the opening parade. A writer with The Associated Negro Press wondered “what was in the breast of those black men who fought to make America safe for Democracy and on Monday stood on the sidelines, forgotten, as the Nordic strode by in all his vain pride.”
By 1976, when the nation marked its Bicentennial, the violence of the ’60s had destroyed any semblance of consensus. Vietnam and Watergate had eroded trust in the government. The commission initially tasked with organizing the anniversary was disbanded amid reports of corruption. Corporations filled the vacuum, Glaude explains, with “star-spangled whoopee cushions; patriotic toilet seats; Liberty hamburgers; red, white and blue beer cans.” The author, around 8 years old at the time, dimly remembers donning a pair of tricolor trousers.
A half-century later, Glaude is refreshingly honest about the depths of his despair. “I do not love America, and never have, especially now,” he writes in one of the more startling opening sentences I’ve read in some time. He dismisses this year’s Semiquincentennial as reaching back “to a storybook America that requires either the banishment of Black people from view or the reduction of our role in the country’s history, so as to affirm America’s ongoing quest to be a more perfect union.”
Undoubtedly true. But Trump doesn’t own the country, at least not yet, nor the 250th anniversary of one of the most radically liberatory and confusingly contradictory events in world history — an inspiration, as Glaude shows, even to critical observers of the American experiment, like Douglass. Far from the revanchist MAGA-palooza in Washington, I suspect this summer’s unasked-for invitation to national soul-searching may surprise us yet.
Despite his despair, Glaude concludes that “the past still offers resources for us to freedom-dream.” So, too, does this book.
AMERICA, U.S.A.: How Race Shadows the Nation’s Anniversaries | By Eddie S. Glaude Jr. | Crown | 270 pp. | $31
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