Nov. 25, 2006

By Adam Lucas

DURHAM--There are so many images from the John Bunting era at Carolina.

There is Sam Aiken somersaulting into the end zone against Florida State, and there is Ronald Curry dashing into the Georgia Dome end zone against Auburn. There is Dan Orner diving into the inflatable Duke helmet. There is Bunting standing, hat over heart, listening to the alma mater after his team had been flattened by Louisville.

There is Khalif Mitchell stuffing T.A. McLendon and Connor Barth beating Miami. There is the last drive against Virginia Tech in 2004, just inches away from a legitimate chance at an ACC title. There is Maryland's Sam Hollenbach firing two long touchdown passes in the fourth quarter in 2005. There is the Carolina sideline, a battered bunch, in the waning minutes of the 23-0 loss at Virginia this year

Which one you remember might depend on your general outlook on life. All of them are fitting in one way or another.

Remember this one, though.

Carolina has just beaten Duke 45-44 in one of the most improbable games in the history of the rivalry. Bunting walks to midfield to shake hands with Ted Roof, then makes a left turn and starts to walk off the field for the long walk to the makeshift visitor's dressing room at Wallace Wade Stadium.

Then he receives an enormous hug from his wife, Dawn. And then he stops, maybe because he hears something. At moments like this on field level, the roar of the crowd is usually just that--a roar. It's often hard to make out exactly what the masses are saying. For once, though, thousands of voices are crystal clear. No one in the five packed Carolina sections has left. And they are all shouting the same thing in unison, repeating it in a rhythmic cadence:

"Thank you John!"

Bunting turns again and walks across the 5-yard line, from the far hash mark almost to the Carolina sideline. According to the official boxscore, there are 24,478 fans in attendance. But as he walks across the field for the last time as the Tar Heel head coach, all he sees in front of him are stands filled with fans wearing Carolina blue. There are arms raised in the air, voices cheering, the band playing.

And there are chills.

Think about it for just a minute. He is a fired coach getting a boisterous ovation from his school's fans. When is the last time you saw a fired coach go out that way? What does that say about the way he endeared himself as a person to the Carolina nation?

One more time, he returns to the locker room with his team. Usually, it is a raucous scene after a Tar Heel victory. This time it is, as Hilee Taylor puts it, "bittersweet."

Before the ritual singing of the fight song, before the cheers, before the roll call, Bunting has one more act to perform as Carolina's head coach. He alters the usual postgame routine because he has one more very important thing to do:

He hugs every single player in the locker room, one by one.

"It was...I can't even describe that feeling," Larry Edwards said.

"He told me any time I need him he'll be there for me, no matter where he is," Jesse Holley said. "Coming from that guy, you know it is extremely sincere and from the heart."

A crowd had gathered outside the Carolina locker room, a collection of families and friends and fans and wives. The locker room is approximately 100 yards from the stadium, so it made for a handy gathering place. Danny Pearman walked out in a black jacket and shirt with brown pants--and a Carolina hat perched atop his head. Pearman is a man who has been in Chapel Hill less than a year. After the announcement that Bunting would not be retained, he made a tour of the athletic department, stopping at almost every office to introduce himself.

"I wanted to do this when I was hired, but I didn't have time," he told everyone he met. "So I'm doing it now."

The crowd lingered after almost every player was out of the locker room. It was evident that they were waiting for Bunting, waiting to give him one last sendoff. One equipment truck and the three team buses were backed up to the door of the locker room, nose to trunk. They made a handy tunnel.

And that is how Bunting made his exit. No fanfare, no cheers from the fans, not even the slightest bit of recognition. He slipped out of the locker room undetected, edged through a one person-wide space between the locker room and the equipment truck, walked behind the buses, and into a parking lot with just four cars--one of them his. For the first time in six years, he didn't really have anywhere to go. His office wasn't even his office anymore--the Kenan Stadium space he had occupied was empty, ready for its next occupant.

"I guess he doesn't want the escort," said one of the highway patrolmen who were providing the team's police escort.

"No, I think he's on his own," said another.

Over the past five weeks everyone waited for the public breakdown, for the teary interview. It never came. Bunting walked into the parking lot with a handful of close friends, his wife, and his brother, Jim.

And then he was gone.

Adam Lucas's third book on Carolina basketball, The Best Game Ever, chronicles the 1957 national championship season and is available now. His previous books include Going Home Again, focusing on Roy Williams's return to Carolina, and Led By Their Dreams, a collaboration with Steve Kirschner and Matt Bowers on the 2005 championship team.