On the scene as a community soars with every basket

Davidson senior Phillip Compeau ordered his Cinderella costume online for $45 -- plus shipping and handling -- he said. Andy Staples/SI.com

DAVIDSON, N.C. -- How two Kansas fans wound up in the only bar in town on the most important day in Davidson basketball history is less interesting than you might think. Kallie Maddox visited Justin Newell, a childhood friend from Wichita. Newell lives in nearby Concord, N.C., and loves the Brickhouse Tavern. Still, the two Rock-chalkers couldn't help but draw attention Sunday afternoon as what seemed like the entire town gathered at the Brickhouse, which features brick-oven pizzas, dozens of beers on tap and a Breathalyzer on the wall. Local resident Don Sommer spotted the blue caps in a sea of Davidson red as soon as he walked through the door. "I don't want to be superstitious," Sommer told Maddox and Newell, "but I root for Wisconsin, and I stood in that same spot Friday [when the Wildcats thumped the Badgers in the Sweet 16.]"

Less than a mile away, on Davidson's bucolic, dogwood petal-covered campus, a stuffed Bucky Badger rested in the jaws of the Wildcat statue between the track and the student union -- a tribute to the greatest Davidson team since the bunch Lefty Driesell took to the Elite Eight in 1968 and 1969. About two hours before Davidson tipped off against Kansas in the Elite Eight, the campus seemed almost deserted. About a third of the 1,700-person student body took up the school on its offer of a free trip to Detroit to root on the Wildcats. The rest, it seemed, congregated in the union, which does not have a Breathalyzer on the wall.

A sextet of Davidson students joined the townfolk at the Brickhouse. Only one is from North Carolina; the rest hail from urban centers in the north and the Midwest. Hannah Rogers, from the Boston suburb of Hingham, Mass., said that she chose Davidson because she wanted to attend a small liberal arts college. Reminded that there were a number of somewhat prestigious small liberal arts colleges a stone's throw from her hometown, Rogers laughed.

The students love Davidson, they explained, because it challenges them and respects them at the same time. Students schedule their own exams, and they take those tests without proctors present. They don't need them, they said, because they all believe in the honor code. Unfortunately, that rigorous academic focus doesn't always allow students to blow off their scholastic responsibilities to go to a basketball game. Rogers stayed to work on her senior thesis, which had a long title that included the phrase "renewable resources" -- just the type of thing the professors love at small liberal arts colleges. Rogers' friend, Monica Jamouneau, stayed behind because she had a psychology test. But wait, can't students schedule their own tests?

"That's just for exams," Jamouneau explained.

As tip-off neared, Cindy Griffith Ray sat with sons Rusty, Ben and Philip on a set of couches near the end of the bar. Ray grew up in Cornelius, N.C., an even smaller town across the street from Davidson. "See Griffith Street," she said, pointing the main drag that connects Davidson to Interstate 77. "That's named after my grandfather."

Ray, whose grandfather was Davidson's mayor in the 1940s, loved those Driesell teams, but she fell in love with Bob McKillop's crew this season. So did the entire town. Hundreds of houses flew bedsheets from their front porches this weekend to cheer on the Wildcats. Why bedsheets?

A Davidson woman named Joanne Shackelford used to hang sheets from her house to celebrate just about anything. If a local family brought home a new baby or if someone turned 50, Joanne probably hung a sheet to commemorate the event. A few years ago, Joanne was diagnosed with cancer. The Valentine's Day before she passed, hundreds of homes flew sheets in her honor.

"I just drove past her old house," Ray said. "I was just thinking how excited she would be."

Shortly after tip-off, the rowdiest spot in the Brickhouse wasn't anywhere near the bar. Erica Felthaus, a Davidson native and former East Carolina cheerleader, squirmed in her dining-room seat as she screeched, pleaded, celebrated and despaired with each new bounce of the ball. Felthaus worked as a volunteer assistant coach for the Davidson cheerleading squad this season before a job transfer -- she works for the Hershey candy company -- forced her to move across the state to Wilmington.

"DEFENSE!" she yelled. "COME ON! GO GET HIM! COME ON GUYS!" Kansas scored. "Dammit," she muttered.

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