When I am tossed an underhanded pitch, I always feel obliged not only to take a swing, but to crush it.

Such was the case during lunch on the eve of the Final Four, when once again N.C. State fans by themselves established a quorum. I must say that their attendance in recent weeks has been on the uptick.

The conversation was of course about N.C. State’s incredible run during both the ACC and NCAA tournaments and the Wolfpack’s chances against No. 1 seed Purdue the next day. It was pointed out that State was two for two in Final Fours, winning in 1974 and 1983, but the truth is N.C. State also made the Final Four in 1950, losing in the semifinal.

Then, both to my surprise and delight, I was asked if I could name all the years that my Tar Heels had reached the Final Four.

“I can,” I said, “but it will take me awhile.”

Encouraged to do so, perhaps as a quiz, I began, “Well, there is 1957, 67, 68, 69, 72, 77, 81, 82, 91, 93, 95 …,”

At that point I heard, “OK, OK, that’s enough.”

But I will finish here: “… 97, 98, 2000, 2005, 2008, 2009, 2016, 2017, and 2022.”

That is 20, but the real count is 21 – more than any other team – as I forgot 1946.

I was then asked if I would be rooting for the Wolfpack.

“It’s complicated,” I said.

You see, I entered high school in 1972, when the Tar Heels had been to four Final Fours in six years, and Dean Smith was establishing himself as one of the greatest coaches of all time. But something unexpected happened when a kid from Shelby named David Thompson picked N.C. State over UNC, and the Wolfpack began a run of nine straight wins over Tar Heel teams that were pretty good at a time that was not good enough.

I rank the 1974 N.C. State team, which ended UCLA’s run of seven straight titles, as one of the best collegiate teams of all times — if not the best. The 1983 team I would also rank No. 1, but for luck.

So, in high school, which are formative years, Thompson, Tom Burleson, Monte Towe and company were a much bigger nemesis than was acne, pretty much spoiling the experience.

Phil Ford, forever my favorite Tar Heel, arrived in Chapel Hill in 1974, and put the world back on its axis, where it has pretty much remained in the interim.

Fifty years is a long time to carry a grudge, but I managed it.

Here is why it is complicated: I have a lot of N.C. State friends, and even a couple of family members, and the Wolfpack softened a hardened heart when it did dispatch my Public Enemy No. 1, the Duke Blue Devils.

In fact, my number of N.C. State friends grew by one two days after Alabama sent UNC back to Chapel Hill when I was on the driving range, sporting a long-sleeved sky-blue shirt with the Nike swoosh and the letters NC.

A buddy mocked me about being a UNC fan, and I countered by saying, “Thick or thin.”

He said, “You do know I am an N.C. State fan?”

“Hmmm,” I said, “I have known you for three years and this is the first time you mentioned it.”

Knowing, however, how much joy N.C. State wins were bringing to people I genuinely care about, I decided I would pull for the Wolfpack, an endearing bunch with the gentile giant D.J. Burns and a likeable head coach, in the Final Four for as long as that would last.

Not long as it turned out.

So, the Wolfpack is batting. 500 in Final Fours.

I prefer .285, which is six out of 21.