I am a longtime fan of North Carolina football, which others read like this: Donnie is a long-suffering fan of North Carolina football.

It isn’t that the Tar Heels’ football history is devoid of success: UNC ranks in the top 30 all-time in the NCAA in total football wins, 698, and bowl appearances, 34. The GOAT, certainly on defense, Lawrence Taylor, played at UNC, as did Charlie “Choo Choo” Justice, twice a runner-up for the Heisman Trophy.

But UNC football teams have always played Robin to the Batman basketball team, which has six NCAA titles — hence an abundance of “basketball-only” Tar Heel fans. Sleeping Giant is often used as a descriptor for UNC’s football program, but it is getting a bit Rip Van Winkle-ish.

My namesake Uncle Don did not miss a home UNC football game from 1964 until Oct. 8, 2016, when Hurricane Matthew reigned, and any conversation with him about the program being on the verge ends with this: “But Donnie, I am running out of time.”

I love attending a UNC football game even more than a Tar Heel basketball game, though one program is nationally acclaimed and the other not so much. COVID-19 will keep me at home today as UNC opens its season against Syracuse, a game that I will become convinced will be played only after the kickoff.

I love that a football game is an all-day affair when the tailgate is included. I also love the episodic nature of football. The outcome of any matchup decided by 14 points or less can usually swing on a single or two plays in the entire game.

The first UNC football game I ever attended was on Nov. 22, 1969, in Wallace Wade Stadium, a 17-13 loss to Dook that was decided when Blue Devil quarterback Leo Hart knelt to tie his shoe, catching the Tar Heel defense asleep as Wes Chesson, a wide receiver, went untouched for a 53-yard scoring play. Yep, they cheated.

I have watched as UNC flirted with relevancy under Bill Dooley, the coach when I was in school who led the Tar Heels to three ACC championships; under Dick Crum, who benefited from Dooley recruits such as Taylor and Kelvin Bryant and led UNC to an 11-1 record in 1980; under Mack Brown, whose teams were a combined 21-3 in 1996 and 1997, when UNC finished in the top 10 both seasons; under Butch Davis, who took UNC recruiting to another level and had the team poised for greatness, but was undermined by a rogue assistant coach; under Larry Fedora, who took the team to an 11-3 season and the ACC title game in 2015, but could only win 13 games in the next three seasons; and now Brown again, who returned to UNC in 2018 with a national title at Texas, Hall of Fame credentials, and led UNC to seven wins last year and a bowl victory.

The football program has spent my entire life in the red zone, but has just not been able to punch it in. As a UNC football fan, I always believe we will be good. The difference this year is that many experts share my enthusiasm.

Longtime Carolina fans blame “the tick” for UNC’s modest gridiron success, referring to the untimely death of legendary coach Jim Tatum, who was a Tar Heel football player and coached the 1942 squad. He returned in 1957 to rescue the sinking program — a national title already on his resume, having been won as the coach of Maryland.

After leading UNC to back-to-back 6-4 campaigns, Tatum fell ill and died quickly at the age of 46 of an infection that was believed to have been Rocky Mountain spotted fever, hence the “curse of the tick.”

As COVID-19 raised doubts that there would be a college football season, I kept flashing back to the tick, worrying that the expectation of a special season — fueled by a strong finish last season and a Heisman candidate at quarterback — would become a what-if memory. When two Power 5 conferences, the Big Ten and the Pac-12, decided to take their ball and stay home, for the first time I was sure there would be no UNC football this year. But the Atlantic Coast Conference, Southeastern Conference and the Big 12 decided to run the option play, and delay any decision. The decision to play leaves the Big Ten and Pac-12 on the sidelines and their fans in an uproar — at least for now.

I love that the ACC, a “basketball conference,” is playing while the Big Ten, a “football conference,” watches on TV.

I love that those three Power 5 conferences are following the lead of NASCAR, the PGA Tour, Major League Baseball, the NBA and professional tennis, all of which have plugged along despite the occasional COVID outbreaks, doing so during a time when this nation seems in full retreat.

I have no idea if the college football season that began last week will continue even beyond today, but I am pleased they are giving it a go. I called 82-year-old Uncle Don the other night to talk football, and despite his 65 years of scar tissue, he seemed optimistic. I told him I hoped he was right, and added, “I’m also running out of time.”

UNC football is not only about the tick, but the tock as well.