Forget All Star Weekend, The Real Horror Was UNC-Duke Weekend

Steelers' Kicker Jeff Reed. Another football player reeking havoc at basketball event.











The past few weeks, since Vegas hosted NBA All Star weekend: we have heard stories of debauchery, crime, fear and general unrest in Sin City. We heard about the "black KKK" and Hip Hop Woodstock. We heard from some that it was exaggerated and overstated. We even saw a rebuttal aimed at one of the guys that said it wasn't so bad.

Well, we at NOIS will let those egos battle it out over what happened in Vegas. We have a suspicion that what really happened in Vegas will stay in Vegas. At least as it relates to the clash of the Titanic egos involved in those disputes.

With that controversy in mind, it was hard not to be wary as we headed to Chapel Hill, NC to partake in another great basketball tradition. The UNC-Duke weekend game. Alumni from around the country head to Chapel Hill to be there for the festivities and excitement that can only come from your team standing tall to face Satan himself in the earthly form of coach KKK.

From the start, we recognized all the signs of gang culture. That same culture so prevalent in Vegas. We saw droves of people all sporting light blue. Everywhere you looked. Light blue shirts and hats. Is blue the Bloods or Crips? We don't remember. But we do know, that our bow ties and dark suits certainly made us feel like targets. And then as we got deeper into things, we saw the hard core thugs repping such entities as "Sigma Chi" and "Delta Tau Delta". Proudly flaunting their signs and colors, knowing that even the police would not dare get in their way as they marauded the streets like packs of wild dingos on the hunt.

The Satuday night before the game, we decided to venture out onto Chapel Hill's version of the strip, Franklin Street. It was crowded and there was an excitement in the air about the chance to complete the first season sweep of Duke in any one's memory. But there was also a certain fear you could see in many people's eyes.

We looked around and saw that, apparently, Chapel Hill had learned nothing from Vegas' ordeal with ASW. Cops were few and far between. We saw Officer Quick at his usual spot, near Players' talking to young women. But for some reason that didn't make us feel any safer.

We decided to head into one of the clubs, Players, to see if the same sort of horrible debauchery and nastiness would carry over from Vegas.

It was intimidating to say the least. Mostly young white folks, dancing off beat and downing Jaeger shots as they whipped themselves into a festive mob. The alcohol flowed like wine, as the crowd thickened. Being pushed, shoved or having your bow tie tweaked was the risk if you chose to try to sidle up to the bar or make the way through the crowd to the rest room.

We spoke to a well built Negro bouncer near the door. He seemed edgy and at ill ease.

"Sometimes, I really have to consider the risks I take coming to work here everyday. Just last week, there was a brawl between a Sigma Nu and a Sig Ep. The Sig Ep had scuffed the Sigma Nu's oxfords, and things just escalated from there. There was name calling and finger pointing, the likes of which I've never seen. Sometimes this place is just real violent", said the anxious bouncer.

And then it happened. Just like in Vegas, the allure of a big game in a fun town (and don't forget the sorostitutes strategically placed throughout the bar) draws celebrities and athletes. We saw what looked like some sort of entourage being escorted to the head of the line at the door. Dressed in abercrombie and vintage tees, the entourage had every one's attention as they sauntered into the club. Clearly feeling that this was their personal playground.

Then the man in the lead made his presence known. None other than Steelers' kicker Jeff Reed. He sauntered in with hair spiked up in a devil may care do. Letting the world know that he was the man. He wore a shirt that said "I Carry No Ca$h", basically telling anyone that could read that as a pro athlete; he expected EVERYTHING to be comped.



Reed and his cohorts terrorized the bar. Forcibly taking over an entire corner.

Certainly, everyone was aware of the melee caused in the proximity of his fellow
NFL player (Pacman Jones), and not wanting to be shot, folks let Reed and his crew do
their dirt.


At one point, after ordering shots, we saw Reed "make it rain" for the cute female bartender by tossing a twenty dollar bill as a tip to her.

Over the dj's speakers, hip hop music blared.

And conscientious and concerned Negroes shed a tear.