Sometimes, life hits ya in the gut, and there’s not a thing you can do about it. Most times it comes out of nowhere, a poorly timed illness or a flat tire or dropping your phone in the toilet or, in my case, being on the losing end of a devastating buzzer beater in the national championship.

There is not a day that goes by that I don’t think of that shot. I’ll spare the details, more for my sake than yours, but if you know even the slightest bit about college basketball, you know the story. Last season, Villanova beat my beloved Tar Heels in the national championship in the most excruciating way possible. Since then, whenever I watch UNC games, I have flashbacks—real, genuine flashbacks. As in, when it’s looking rough for the Heels, I sometimes close my eyes and see that ball rattle in and fall through the net and bounce on the glinting hardwood, then life hits me in the gut all over again.

But something happened yesterday.

Luke Maye happened.

Luke Maye is a guy who was unheralded coming out of high school, and in his freshman year in 2016, it seemed deserving. He walked on. He was awkward. He either got blocked or turned it over every time he touched the ball, it seemed. He looked scared—no, that’s not the right word; Luke Maye doesn’t get scared. But he did look lost out there on the court, and I couldn’t blame him. The athletes that a North Carolina basketball player plays against are world class, and Maye, while an immensely gifted athlete, is not as big or fast or vertical as his opponents. Yet it was Maye, playing against a Kentucky team brimming with future NBA players, who cemented his name amongst the greats in Chapel Hill and sent UNC to a record 20th Final Four with a cold-blooded jumper with 0.3 seconds left.

UNC blew a late lead and Kentucky tied the game with 7 seconds to go. I sunk into the couch, lungs deflated, neck limp, eyes closed—I could’ve been dead. This was nothing new to me. Meltdowns, injuries, buzzer beaters, I'd seen it all before. I knew this would just be another chapter to my ever growing collection of UNC heartbreak. But Luke Maye was having none of that.

He was open. The sophomore stepped back and released, and I knew it was in the second that ball left his hand. I was already jumping and screaming by the time the ball tickled the twine and every UNC fan in the entire world collectively erupted in cheer. I called my best friend, who is almost as obsessed with UNC basketball as me, and we shouted and celebrated together like we do after every big win. I hung up and some minutes later, the dust began to settle. I drove home from my grandparents’ house. And on the drive home, at a red light, it hit me—things went right. Yes, there's still work to be done. We want a championship. But I wasn't emotionally destroyed after this; there were no flashbacks to Villanova. There was no gut punch, and instead of ruin, I was on top of the world, right alongside Luke Maye, the rest of the team, and every other UNC fan in existence. For once, things just went right.