I was spit on by a Terps fan. There I was, minding my own business, sitting in the last row of the media section -- the one closest to the fans -- watching the first half of Duke-Maryland come to a furious close.

And I do mean furious. Now I know why Maryland boosters are decked out in red. It matches the color of their faces. Listening to the ranting and raving of the fans behind me, I could have sworn the Terps were losing by 22 instead of beating the Blue Devils to a pulp. Here's how it sounded:

With about 10 minutes left in the first half, and the Terps holding a 28-13 advantage, a middle-aged man over my left shoulder begins to sense that something is not right with the universe. Clearly, the officials are taking the Big Bang theory a little too far. "Where's the foul, ref?" he cries out as one of his beloved Turtles is knocked off-balance and not a single zebra comes to the rescue. "Don't worry," another middle-aged man says calmly. "This will play into our hands." (Wrong!)

A few seconds later, Maryland's Drew Nicholas is whistled for a foul. "Call it both ways, ref!" shouts Middle-Aged Man No. 3. Up and down they go, the Terps looking like they'll run the Devils right out of Dick Vitale's vocabulary. At the 6:55 mark, Steve Blake shakes and bakes and buries a three to give his team a 39-17 lead. And yet ...

The anxiety level behind me mounts. All those years of not winning a national championship are beginning to take their toll on the Maryland faithful. After a charging call against Terence Morris about 90 seconds later -- with the Terps clinging to a 40-20 lead -- the middle-aged men can take no more. "You'll do anything to keep Duke in the game, ref!" "You've got two teams on the court, ref!" "Blow the whistle both ways, ref!"

The Devils edge closer. Shane Battier hits a trey to make it 42-29. Juan Dixon answers, but Battier answers right back. The Duke fans rise; the middle-aged men are aging fast. Then, a questionable charging call against Maryland. (At least I think it was questionable. These Terp fans are beginning to impair my judgment.) "You're missing a great game, ref!" Time is called. The teams huddle. One of the striped shirts walks over to the Maryland bench and asks the water girl for a drink. "Don't give him any!"

Play resumes. The tension grows. By now I feel my own blood pressure starting to rise. Another foul on Maryland. Middle-Aged Man No. 2 screams so hard he bursts a blood vessel ... in my eye. "Stop cheatin', ref!" Battier hits two freebies: 44-33.

And then it happens. Something icky this way comes. Lonny Baxter is called for a foul, and Middle-Aged Man No. 1 -- now frothing at the mouth -- can take no more. "YOU ... SUCK!!!" I feel something wet brush my cheek. I look down to find a little ball of spit on my left sleeve. All hope is lost.

We need no recap of the second half. We know what happened. The Terps didn't win. The Terps never win these kinds of games. In a way, I can relate. I'm a Red Sox fan. I know what it's like to feel that the sports gods are always on somebody else's side. Yankees. Dookies. Yeah, it sucks.

But so does getting spit on by a stranger.

Sue Hovey is college hoops editor for ESPN The Magazine. E-mail sue.hovey@espnmag.com.