Duke's Blue Devil Found Sitting Alone in an Empty Arena Corridor, Refusing to Accept That the Game Is Over
Following UConn's stunning upset of the No. 1 seed Blue Devils in the Elite Eight, the Duke mascot was discovered in a maintenance hallway twelve minutes after the final buzzer, still in full regalia, reviewing the box score on his phone like there might be an error.
BOSTON, MA — The arena had emptied. UConn had cut down the net. The floor buffer was running. The Duke Blue Devil had not moved.
He was found by a TD Garden facilities worker at 11:47 p.m., sitting on an equipment trunk in a service corridor, holding his phone at arm’s length and staring at the box score with the focused expression of a man who believes the numbers can be negotiated with.
“Sir,” said the worker, whose name was Kevin.
The Blue Devil held up one finger.
He scrolled up. He scrolled down. He appeared to be looking for a specific number that would explain everything. He did not find it.
On the floor beside him: a granola bar, still wrapped; a printed copy of Duke’s tournament bracket that had been folded and unfolded so many times it was starting to separate at the creases; and a framed 4x6 photo of Coach K that he apparently carries in his jacket pocket at all times and had propped against the wall facing him, either for comfort or as a witness.
The photo was facing the bracket.
The Call
At some point during the twelve minutes between the final buzzer and Kevin’s arrival, the Blue Devil had called Coach Krzyzewski’s personal cell phone. Twice. The calls went to voicemail.
He left a message both times. He declined to share the content of either message but confirmed that the second one was “shorter and more composed” than the first.
He did not specify what the first one was.
The Game
Duke entered as the number one overall seed. UConn entered as a five. The Huskies led by two with eleven seconds left. Duke tied it. Duke’s final three-pointer hit the back iron. UConn 74, Duke 72.
“A five seed,” said the Blue Devil, when asked for comment. He said nothing else for forty seconds. Kevin counted.
“A five seed did this.”
What Kevin Said
Kevin said he felt for the guy. He’s seen a lot of things in this corridor — mostly lost water bottles and a Celtics assistant coach crying after a game in 2019 — but something about a mascot in full regalia quietly talking to a wallet-sized photo of a retired 74-year-old basketball coach just got to him.
“He wasn’t bothering anyone,” Kevin said. “He was just trying to figure out who to tell.”
Eventually the Blue Devil stood, smoothed his uniform, tucked Coach K back into his breast pocket, and walked toward the exit without a word.
He stopped at the end of the hallway. Turned back. Looked at the bracket on the floor.
Left it there.
“He’d know what happened,” the Blue Devil said, of Coach K, before he left. “He’d look at the film and he’d know exactly what happened and he’d tell me and it would still feel terrible but at least I’d know.”
He put his phone away.
“He hasn’t called back yet.”