Did our phones ruin the win over Duke?

This is a response to my classmate Rachel's post about an issue that seems to keep coming up in our blogs. In it, she questioned whether constantly being on our phones detracted from the experience of UNC beating Duke Thursday night. It's true-- I was in the middle of the ecstatic, adrenaline-pumped mob that sprinted from the Dean Dome to Franklin Street after the buzzer-- and the mob was scattered with lit screens. It seemed like everyone was trying to simultaneously bask in glory and capture it on video. So Rachel poses the question: Can we really live in the moment with our phones out?

My answer is, probably not. Anyone who tries to argue that being on his/her phone has no effect on their experience is kidding themselves. But the great thing about our phones is that they have the ability to make a memory permanent. When I scrambled to press 'record' on my phone before I rushed Franklin, my friend rolled her eyes and yelled, "no phones! We just beat Duke!" as if the moment was way too sacred to taint with the presence of technology. Then the next day she asked me to send her the video so she could share it with her family.

In the moment, phones might be annoying and a little invasive, but everyone reaps the benefit of the memories they provide. Today I saw a YouTube video of the victory celebration, starting with students rushing the court in the Dean Dome and ending with them jumping over bonfires and climbing telephone poles on Franklin. I was overcome with the same feelings of pride I felt two nights ago. It was like living the experience all over again. I chose to take a video while I rushed Franklin because I knew I'd be glad I did later (I've re-watched it at least 10 times). Others prefer to keep their phones zipped up and celebrate with no distractions, which works out for them too because somebody else always captures it and posts it online.

When my dad rushed Franklin Street from Carmichael Auditorium after UNC beat Duke in 1979, nobody had a cell phone. There were no tiny squares of light bobbing along with the crowd to take a video. I still love hearing my dad describe how it felt being in that moment. But the difference with our generation is that we get to show our kids that moment, and I think that's a cool thing.

This was my view. Still beautiful from the nosebleeds.