Twenty-five years ago seems like a long time. It is in some ways, of course, but in other ways moments from the past can shine as brightly and as vividly as a sun-kissed day in May.

That’s how I remember N.C. State’s 1983 NCAA Championship basketball team. Their miracle march to greatness is as clear to me as yesterday’s drive in to work.

I am asked all the time what is the best story that I’ve covered in my almost 37 years at WRAL. My answer for the last 25 years has been easy – N.C. State’s run to capture college basketball’s Holy Grail was not just improbable, but amazing.

And as I look back on it from a quarter-century away, it seems even more unbelievable.

The state of North Carolina is split many ways when it comes to basketball loyalty, but whether you were a Tar Heel, a Blue Devil or a Deacon, no matter what the allegiance, all seemed to be behind Jim Valvano’s Wolfpack in early April of 1983. I had never seen that before and have not seen it since.

Sidney Lowe, who’s the Wolfpack leader on the bench today, was the leader on the floor in 1983. He says he gets chills every time he thinks about 1983. His teammates on that team will tell you the same.

What made this team so mesmerizing?

To me, it was that they did what no one expected them to do. From an 8-6 start and after they had lost senior star Dereck Whittenburg for 14 games with a foot injury, they clawed their way to a 17-10 regular season. Good, but not good enough.

The Wolfpack knew 17-10 wouldn’t get them into the NCAA tournament. Only an ACC Championship would do that, so every ACC post-season game was an elimination game. The Pack knew the pressure was on, but they never faltered. They were confident, and Whittenburg was back. They had a coach who believed in them, and so they believed in themselves.

State beat Wake Forest by one point in the quarterfinals of the ACC tournament. They held off Michael Jordan and Carolina in overtime in the semi-finals, and then beat Ralph Sampson and Virginia for the ACC title.

The NCAA Tournament was even more tense.

There was the double-overtime win against Pepperdine in the opening round, and the one-point win over UNLV in the second round. There was beating Sampson and Virginia again, this time by one point for the West Regional Championship, and finally the miracle win over Houston for the national title.

Remember the famed Phi Slama Jama? Those Houston Cougars of Hakeem Olajuwon and Clyde Drexler, who later were voted two of the NBA’s all-time 50 top players? State didn’t have a chance against those guys. So everybody said –and I’m pretty sure that included me. But Valvano would just laugh and tell his players “just get us in position guys, and I’ll think of something.” Down the stretch in 1983, he always did.

No one enjoyed this journey more than the late Jim Valvano. He laughed he cried, he cajoled, he willed this unique team of veterans and youth to a championship. He told them to dream, to think big, and they did. His personality had the Pack loose while others were tight. He was on the biggest stage in college sports and he was having the time of his life.

He played with the media, told them State couldn’t go up and down with Houston. He said the Pack might hold the ball until Tuesday, knowing full well that he would attack the Cougars right from the start. And the Pack did just that, building an eight-point halftime lead.

V also knew that Houston couldn’t shoot free throws, not a lick. So when Houston grabbed the lead and momentum in the second half, the Pack resorted to what has been referred to as “their free-throw defense.” It had worked throughout the tournament and it worked again, as State kept fouling and Houston kept missing. And State found itself tied at 52 and in possession of the ball with 44 seconds to play.

Valvano always said it was then that he knew State would win it. Everyone knew the Pack would play for the last shot – win it or go to overtime.

The play was for Sidney Lowe to make a move to the basket with 10 seconds to play and, depending on how Houston played, either to take it himself or find Whittenburg or Gannon for the last shot.

The Cougars, though, were in a half-court trap and things weren't going like State planned. Bailey got hung up in the corner, forcing a weak pass that Benny Anders almost intercepted with nothing but an open court ahead of him.

Whittenburg, though, somehow controlled the pass with time for just a desperation heave. Lorenzo Charles was under the basket and saw that the ball was short. Olajuwon, his back to Charles, never saw him or that the ball was dropping. He never jumped. Charles did, catching the short shot with both hands and ramming it home at the buzzer. Just like that, the Wolfpack had won the National Championship and legends were made.

Lorenzo Charles stopped by the station last summer to visit. It’s so much fun to talk to these guys now.

Lo told us that not a day goes by that someone doesn’t want to talk about his last-second dunk that won the Houston game. It’s still the most memorable shot in Final Four history. He says he can talk about it forever, which is good because he’ll probably have to.

He leaped while the great Olajuwon was nailed to the floor. His dunk at the buzzer and Valvano running around the floor looking for someone to hug is video that is played over and over each and every March.

Dereck Whittenburg will still tell you that desperation shot that Charles slammed through was a pass. Whit was always very persuasive, and over the years he’s probably converted quite a few who believe that. But when the fates are smiling down, does it really matter?

Big Thurl Bailey, to me one of the classiest players ever to compete in the ACC, says that not a day goes by that the Houston game doesn’t have an effect on something that he’s doing in his life.

So well do I remember that-day after celebration at Reynolds Coliseum. We did a live broadcast from there to cover the Pack’s return. The old building was a sea of people, all in red. Not an inch of floor could be seen. A young State student named Jeff Gravley skipped baseball practice that day and watched the jubilation from high above the floor

I was also going to do my six o’clock sportscast from Reynolds. I had asked the three senior stars – Lowe, Bailey and Whittenburg – along with the three key sophomores – Terry Gannon, Lorenzo Charles and Cozell McQueen – to come on television live with me during my sportscast. All said they would.

Well, it was almost time for me to go on. In that madhouse that was Reynolds, I had managed to find Terry, Lorenzo and Cozell, but not the three seniors, whom I was sure were just being mobbed by their fans.

About 30 seconds before air, I’m standing there with the three sophomores in a mass of people and all of a sudden there’s a tap on my shoulder and I look up and the 6-11 Thurl was standing there saying, “Tom what do you need me to do?”

I will never forget that because here was a young man who would be a No. 1 NBA draft pick in a little over two months, but who didn’t forget. He remembered that a couple of hours ago he had promised to come on my broadcast – and despite all the hoopla and pandemonium, he was there.

The names Lowe, Whittenburg, Bailey, McQueen, Charles, Gannon, Ernie Myers, Mike Warren, my old friend Alvin Battle are names from the past that still live in the present. They’re in their 40s now, but I bet they will tell you that championship means even more now than it did then.

They had a coach who was bigger than life. Jim Valvano told his team to dream big. They did, and they never quit. They never quit believing in themselves. As Coach V would always say, “Never ever give up.” They shocked the world, and they stole the hearts of everyone when they did it.

The Cardiac Pack. They were National Champions.