Every August, in the sun-baked heart of Chapel Hill, a collection of extremely serious men in extremely serious polo shirts gather around a whiteboard and produce one of college football's most beloved genres of literature: the North Carolina football depth chart. It is a document of hope, hype, and occasionally outright fantasy — a scroll that suggests every freshman is destined for glory, every transfer is a hidden gem, and every third-string lineman definitely, absolutely, has been "getting after it in practice." Reading it is like reading a horoscope: technically possible, emotionally uplifting, and only loosely connected to reality.
Every depth chart comes with an implied emergency exit, and the Tar Heels' version is no different. Somewhere near the bottom of the two-deep sits a name that makes fans sprint for the door faster than that cheery green pictogram gentleman above. "Or" designations are the true heart attack of the genre — when the coaching staff writes "QB1: Smith OR Jones," what they are really saying