Gov. Janet Mills declared June 25 “Cooper Flagg Day,” celebrating the basketball prodigy and expected No. 1 NBA pick who has brought glory to his home state.

For University of North Carolina alumni in Maine like me, he’s also a walking — and dunking — reminder of the rival we thought we’d left behind.

I graduated from UNC at Chapel Hill in 2024, putting to rest four happy years of cheering on star basketball player RJ Davis, fist-bumping Rameses the mascot, sipping from the Old Well, and eating at my favorite restaurants along Franklin Street. Now, I’m proud to be a health, community and culture reporter at the Morning Sentinel in Waterville, far away from the devil that went down to North Carolina.

Little did I know I’d end up a 30-minute drive from Duke’s favorite family.

It was March 14, the semifinals of the ACC tournament, and against all odds, UNC was pulling ahead against Duke. They looked good — more like a team than they had in months — and as Elliot Cadeau hit another 3-pointer, I jumped up and down in my seat at the Liberal Cup in Hallowell, the beer in my glass long forgotten.

Then the chants began: “Cooper! Cooper! Cooper!”

Bewildered, I looked around and for the first time noticed the excitement brightening the eyes of my fellow bargoers. It took a beat before I understood the connection. 

An 18-year-old Duke basketball sensation. From Newport, Maine.

I don’t blame Flagg for being talented. In fact, I applaud his attitude, height and gusto. But I wish he could have respected the fact that — with the exception of one specific pantsuit that Gov. Janet Mills has worn — I left North Carolina prepared to never see Duke blue again.

Allow me to take you back to 2021, during my sophomore year. UNC vs. Duke basketball games became everything to me. But to win a ticket, we didn’t memorize basketball facts or laze around in tents while trashing our pristine grassy quad — we applied for the lottery, hopeful that luck, reason and order would prevail. Often it didn’t. Sometimes, it did.

In 2022, we rejoiced over having handed Mike Krzyzewski, or “Coach K,” a devastating loss in his final home game before retirement, just a month before sending Duke home in the Final Four.

Then I graduated, put Duke out of my mind and moved up north. I still remember the first time I flew from North Carolina to Maine, threw on the movie “Crazy, Stupid, Love” and suddenly heard Steve Carell say: “I love Maine. You ever been to Waterville?” 

(If the person I sat next to on that flight is reading this: I’m still sorry about the drink I spilled on your shoe.)

I remember getting the job offer at the Morning Sentinel and then learning that my great-grandparents had taken classes at Colby College in their elder years. That I somehow had ties to this strange, wonderful city of 16,000, home to a spirited arts organization and the best Jamaican food I’ve ever had.

All the signs told me that Maine was the right place.

Now, those signs have grown devil horns and a bad goatee.

But maybe that’s OK.

Maybe it’s OK that I hear whispers about Jordon Hudson, a native of Maine and the much younger girlfriend of UNC football coach Bill Belichick, at the Waterville Hannaford.

Maybe it’s OK that I know Cooper Flagg’s family tree better than I know my own.

Living in Maine, a 17-hour drive from my family, it’s nice to have reminders of the people, places and sports that made North Carolina home. It was never about Flagg, or Hudson, or Steve Carell — it was about my own nostalgia for the Tar Heel cry, the thundering of the Dean Dome, the idea that I was part of something greater than myself or any UNC alumni to come before me.

And I have a feeling that, come tonight, I might even find myself cheering for Cooper Flagg.