I was brought into this world bleeding red, meaning I have blood that is a working man’s, blue-collar, piedmont hue. It’s not blood red, not crimson, or garnet or candy apple red, it’s North Carolina State red.

I was born into that tradition, and I’m more than proud to attend the school that I have loved since my mother and father brought me into the world.

From birth as a North Carolina State fan, you are taught a handful of household rules that are contingent to you being allowed to be a part of the family.

The Great Satan of the South is the University of North Carolina Duke is only a fraction more tolerable than UNC East Carolina is not a rival, but they don’t know that.

The first two rules are explicit. You can not pull for North Carolina and NC State, nor can you pull for Duke and State.

However, the third is more implicit. No one in Raleigh talks about East Carolina. No one really knows what they’re about, no one really understands the underpinning of eastern North Carolina culture that has firmly planted it’s roots in Greenville. No one really cares.

My brush with East Carolina prior to college was brief. I knew that the Wolfpack would beat East Carolina in football, and there would be much sadness among Pirate fans. I knew should the opposite happen that the next year would be filled with obnoxious snarls from an inferior school and that next year things would return to normal.

However, as I grew older and my time to choose my school came close, I heavily considered East Carolina.

What no one tells you about ECU is that it is a big university with top-tier programs, but it feels like a tiny college. Beneath the exterior of a normal university there is something distinctly southern, distinctly eastern, distinctly North Carolina.

Since the early 20th Century, East Carolina has been known for it’s education program. Formally East Carolina Teacher’s College, ECU was the place to go for eastern North Carolinians who wanted to be teachers.

Since then, the Pirates have grown medical and dental programs, broadcast journalism, and a large spread of other academic programs that have made East Carolina a legitimate, top-choice institution for any collegian.

As for their sports programs, I had taken them for granted. They wanted to be something they weren’t. All East Carolina was, was the undersized playground kid who wanted to play football with the big boys.

While no one in their right mind would embrace a program so desperate for acceptance on the state scale, the ECU Pirates did, and look where they are now.

Prior to the September 10, 2016, meeting between the Pirates and my beloved Wolfpack, I had never been to Dowdy-Ficklen Stadium. I had never wanted to. It’s small, the press box exterior looks rather rickety and it feels more like an oversized landfill with a football field in the middle.

Former Pirates coach Steve Logan remarked, “The stadium blocks the wind… it’s hotter than seven kinds of hell in there.”

It’s true. Eastern North Carolina heat and humidity beats down, and as I watched the teams warm-up from my press box perch, I wondered if I was going to make it through a three-hour football game without overheating.

As the final hour before kickoff approached, something miraculous happened though. What once was a structure of concrete and plastics fused into an atmosphere like that of a real-life buccaneer’s ship.

Naturally, the fans always provide the atmosphere to any stadium, but what East Carolina’s fans do to Dowdy-Ficklen Stadium is different. For three hours on fall Saturdays, a sleepy little North Carolina town ruptures into a free-for-all, scream-your-lungs out madhouse.

It’s loud, it’s proud, it’s perhaps the best individual game day experience in North Carolina.

From 20 minutes into kickoff, “The Boneyard,” ECU’s student section, performs a rehearsed and choreographed praise to their football team.

The Marching Pirates play E.C. Victory and the elaborate routine of traditions begin.

Smoke pours from the mouth of a giant pirate skull as a real-life pirate bursts from the cloud yelling with crossed swords.

He is followed by Scottie Montgomery, the first-year head coach of the Pirates who fires his fists in the air, preparing to play what is East Carolina’s biggest game of the 2016 season.

Then comes the team. It is no wonder that East Carolina’s football players start hard and fast. The pregame routine is packed with enough adrenaline and gusto that spirits of Pirates before are awakened.

It all culminates in a single, great tradition of East Carolina, the “hoisting of the colors.” As the tune from Disney’s Pirates of the Carribean blasts, up rises the black flag with the skull and crossbones.

Chilling, daunting, and stark it waves for three quarters, declaring the hallowed ground, Pirate Territory.

Opponents can only watch and try to compete in front of over 50,000 screaming maniacs, all dressed in some regalia of royal purple and pirate treasure gold.

Somehow though, these maniacs are different. So often there is unabashed pride and tradition associated with the previous national championships at Alabama or Florida State. East Carolina has no national titles, no BCS appearances, no College Football Playoff considerations.

These fans love their team, plain and simple. No matter the wins or losses, the thrill or the agony, there is no doubt that every home Saturday, Dowdy-Ficklen Stadium will be packed to the brim with the same, raucous fans and one of the craziest environments will be created. Period.

As the game continues, the atmosphere rises. The ship bell tolls out, “All hands on deck,” for opponent’s third downs. Louder and louder it gets. In fact, on NC State’s first drive, the Pirate faithful drew the Wolfpack into a delay of game.

It’s unbelievable to think that a group of 50,000 can make the noise of a group twice that size to throw an opponent off kilter.

And as the game continues, these fans don’t go away. It never eases up, it never quiets down, it’s no quarter through a whole game.

At the end of the third quarter though, the “no quarter” mantra is realized as the black flag is taken down and a bright red, “No Quarter” flag is raised on the mast.

The final 15 minutes are the climatic scene of a swashbuckler’s tale. Back and forth the teams battle, through the heat they duel, all while Pirate Nation hollers for more.

“It’s emotionally exhausting,” was what my cameraman told me after spending four quarters on the field, “I’m just- worn out.”

That’s from someone who holds a camera and documents the action- it’s even worse for opposing teams.

Unable to hear yourself think, you’re left on an island where you are the only non-pirate. The tradition leads the final drive, the crowd wins football games. East Carolina took their third straight win over NC State on this particular Saturday.

I’m left it shock, as it all so quickly fades. It would only seem naturally that cannon ball debris and musket smoke would be left hanging in the air after a Pirate’s battle, but no. Instead, Dowdy-Ficklen returns to being another landmark in the serene landscape of eastern N.C.

It’s almost as if immediately after the game ends, the calm is settling before the next Saturday storm.

Scottie Montgomery remarked upon taking the head coaching job at East Carolina, “Pirate Nation, you are the real deal.”

There are many across the nation who might not believe that a small university in the heart of Greenville, N.C., could claim such a title.

Yet here they are, a band of sea-loving Pirates. Unafraid the team takes the field, unabashed the colors wave, unrelenting the fans cheer on.

Here is Pirate Nation, an undaunted gem in college football.