So we went to Henderson on March 13, and, other than snapping this flat, lifeless, overexposed photograph of Jefferson Street (where the D.C. homeless dude had once lived), I didn’t do any too much reporting. We got a late start, mostly because, before leaving Madisonville, we got interested in watching the University of Kentucky Wildcats men’s basketball team lose to Louisiana State in the second round of the Southeastern Conference tournament.
UK played closely with LSU in the first half, while Rachel fed Virginia. We finally got on the road north with about 12 minutes to go in the game, but the Wildcats were clearly fading. By the time we were leaving U.S. 41 for the four-lane Pennyrile Parkway at Hanson, the teams were merely negotiating the final margin (which turned out to be a merciful nine points, 67-58). Kentucky plays Nevada-Las Vegas in the first round of the National Invitation Tournament tonight, but, for many of its followers, this team’s season is done. And the focus now has turned to whether the UK careers of its two best players, Jodie Meeks and Patrick Patterson, and its head coach, Billy Gillispie, are, too.
Before leaving the house, during a commercial break in Raycom’s telecast of the LSU game, I hustled some gear out to our Honda Element for the afternoon away. I cleared some soft-drink cans from the drink holders in the cab. As is so often the case, it turned out that Rachel was not finished with her lukewarm, flat soda—there were maybe two swallows left in the bottom of the can. She asked about its whereabouts even before we had backed all of the way out of the driveway, and the silence was icy after I responded that I’d already recycled the can.
So—the things we do for love—before getting on the parkway at Hanson, I veered into a barbecue joint and fetched Rach a fresh Coke. In the gravel parking lot, a photographer was posing two high-school lovers against the roughhewn wood siding of the barbecue joint for a rustic portrait. Inside, a TV in the corner of the dining area blared the last couple brutal minutes of UK’s loss. One woman assembled barbecue sandwiches and worked the cash register; another took and schlepped orders. Two 35-year-old men—one in a UK cap—and a boy sat at one table. What bothered me is that none of these individuals seemed bothered. I made eye contact with the UK-capped dude and shook my head in an offering of commiseration sharing; alas, I think he thought I was passing judgment on his jittery son’s raucousness.
Rachel and I talked a bit about this on the 31-mile drive to Henderson.
“I used to get really upset when UK lost,” she said. “I’d be down the whole next day. The year that they lost to Marquette … I almost felt embarrassed the next day.”
Marquette beat UK, 74-66, on March 20, 2008, in the first round of the NCAA tournament last season and upset top-ranked Kentucky, 83-69, in the second round March 29, 2003, but Rach was referring to March 20, 1994, when Marquette upset third-ranked Kentucky, 76-53, in the second round. (Wow … in looking up these dates, I learned that Marquette beat Kentucky, 81-74, in the NCAA tournament on March 13, 1969, and in a consolation game, 91-74, on March 20, 1971, too. I really hate Marquette.)
I recalled that I had experienced a similar feeling when UK lost to Alabama-Birmingham.
Alabama-Birmingham beat UK, 76-75, on March 21, 2004, in the NCAA second round, but I was referring to March 15, 1981, when Alabama-Birmingham upset UK, 69-62, in the Mideast Regional. (By the way, Alabama-Birmingham’s media relations made an effort a few years ago to get folks to start calling the school “Alabama-Birmingham,” and instead use “UAB,” or “The University of Alabama at Birmingham,” or just “Birmingham.” That’s completely understandable, but, sorry, just out of spite, I’m still using the hyphen. I really hate Alabama-Birmingham.)
The emotional tightrope of being such a rabid UK fan was at least one of the three most intense feelings of my boyhood, and I came to believe it was the single-most useless and destructive. It was rivaled in intensity only by, one, a series of unrequited romantic notions (but these always seemed and still seem entirely normal and necessary) and, two, my love of the Miami Dolphins (but this has always and still feels more baleful than desperate—and, anyway, covered in another blog altogether).
Why did I care so much? All rooting for UK so passionately seemed to do was make me more severe, more judgmental and more out of touch with the cool, well-adjusted crowd I grew up around—the ones who actually went roller-skating, went to parties and concerts, went out on dates, the people who went places.
So when I went away to college—not to UK but to Western Kentucky University—I decided to quit caring and invest myself in alternative concerns. I would care, instead, about alternative things: alternative teams (the WKU Lady Topper basketball team), alternative music (literally, the Replacements), alternative pursuits (journalism). In truth, I never did quit caring; in fact, I developed a passionately caring hatred of UK men’s basketball and its tradition—all of which seemed confirmed by the late ‘80s “KENTUCKY’S SHAME” debacle.
UK played closely with LSU in the first half, while Rachel fed Virginia. We finally got on the road north with about 12 minutes to go in the game, but the Wildcats were clearly fading. By the time we were leaving U.S. 41 for the four-lane Pennyrile Parkway at Hanson, the teams were merely negotiating the final margin (which turned out to be a merciful nine points, 67-58). Kentucky plays Nevada-Las Vegas in the first round of the National Invitation Tournament tonight, but, for many of its followers, this team’s season is done. And the focus now has turned to whether the UK careers of its two best players, Jodie Meeks and Patrick Patterson, and its head coach, Billy Gillispie, are, too.
Before leaving the house, during a commercial break in Raycom’s telecast of the LSU game, I hustled some gear out to our Honda Element for the afternoon away. I cleared some soft-drink cans from the drink holders in the cab. As is so often the case, it turned out that Rachel was not finished with her lukewarm, flat soda—there were maybe two swallows left in the bottom of the can. She asked about its whereabouts even before we had backed all of the way out of the driveway, and the silence was icy after I responded that I’d already recycled the can.
So—the things we do for love—before getting on the parkway at Hanson, I veered into a barbecue joint and fetched Rach a fresh Coke. In the gravel parking lot, a photographer was posing two high-school lovers against the roughhewn wood siding of the barbecue joint for a rustic portrait. Inside, a TV in the corner of the dining area blared the last couple brutal minutes of UK’s loss. One woman assembled barbecue sandwiches and worked the cash register; another took and schlepped orders. Two 35-year-old men—one in a UK cap—and a boy sat at one table. What bothered me is that none of these individuals seemed bothered. I made eye contact with the UK-capped dude and shook my head in an offering of commiseration sharing; alas, I think he thought I was passing judgment on his jittery son’s raucousness.
Rachel and I talked a bit about this on the 31-mile drive to Henderson.
“I used to get really upset when UK lost,” she said. “I’d be down the whole next day. The year that they lost to Marquette … I almost felt embarrassed the next day.”
Marquette beat UK, 74-66, on March 20, 2008, in the first round of the NCAA tournament last season and upset top-ranked Kentucky, 83-69, in the second round March 29, 2003, but Rach was referring to March 20, 1994, when Marquette upset third-ranked Kentucky, 76-53, in the second round. (Wow … in looking up these dates, I learned that Marquette beat Kentucky, 81-74, in the NCAA tournament on March 13, 1969, and in a consolation game, 91-74, on March 20, 1971, too. I really hate Marquette.)
I recalled that I had experienced a similar feeling when UK lost to Alabama-Birmingham.
Alabama-Birmingham beat UK, 76-75, on March 21, 2004, in the NCAA second round, but I was referring to March 15, 1981, when Alabama-Birmingham upset UK, 69-62, in the Mideast Regional. (By the way, Alabama-Birmingham’s media relations made an effort a few years ago to get folks to start calling the school “Alabama-Birmingham,” and instead use “UAB,” or “The University of Alabama at Birmingham,” or just “Birmingham.” That’s completely understandable, but, sorry, just out of spite, I’m still using the hyphen. I really hate Alabama-Birmingham.)
The emotional tightrope of being such a rabid UK fan was at least one of the three most intense feelings of my boyhood, and I came to believe it was the single-most useless and destructive. It was rivaled in intensity only by, one, a series of unrequited romantic notions (but these always seemed and still seem entirely normal and necessary) and, two, my love of the Miami Dolphins (but this has always and still feels more baleful than desperate—and, anyway, covered in another blog altogether).
Why did I care so much? All rooting for UK so passionately seemed to do was make me more severe, more judgmental and more out of touch with the cool, well-adjusted crowd I grew up around—the ones who actually went roller-skating, went to parties and concerts, went out on dates, the people who went places.
So when I went away to college—not to UK but to Western Kentucky University—I decided to quit caring and invest myself in alternative concerns. I would care, instead, about alternative things: alternative teams (the WKU Lady Topper basketball team), alternative music (literally, the Replacements), alternative pursuits (journalism). In truth, I never did quit caring; in fact, I developed a passionately caring hatred of UK men’s basketball and its tradition—all of which seemed confirmed by the late ‘80s “KENTUCKY’S SHAME” debacle.
But why would I care so much now?
“I would give two reasons,” my friend, former-Kentuckian Stephen, explained in an e-mail from his home in Northern Virginia. “First, basketball should be very special to anyone who really loves Kentucky. In my opinion, basketball is the best thing about Kentucky. All the other major attributes of Kentucky life are things that Kentuckians either share with other Southerners (fundamentalist religion, the rural lifestyle, Bluegrass music) or belong almost exclusively to the rich (horse racing, an appreciation for good bourbon, politics). Only basketball belongs exclusively to the average people of the Commonwealth. It is perfectly suited to the weather—December to February are dreadful months in Kentucky weather-wise, and basketball gives you something to think about. It is perfectly suited to the demographics—basketball is the ultimate game for small towns and local neighborhoods, the one sport that poor kids can teach themselves and play by themselves. And it is perfectly suited to Kentuckians' love of controversy, argument, conspiracy theory and the radio. So basketball in Kentucky is not like basketball anywhere else.
“Second,” smart Stephen continued, “healthy and normal people (like you and your family) are sensitive to the demands of tradition. We Kentuckians have been left a great tradition of basketball success by the generations who went before us, and we hate the thought of letting that tradition lapse. Kentucky has been winning games and championships for a long time, and it would be heartbreaking to see that all come to an end. One reason, I believe, that modern British thought is so dominated by cynicism and sarcasm is that sensitive British people realize, at some level, that they lost the power and prestige in the world that had belonged to their ancestors. That is a devastating burden to carry, and it's not surprising that their response is to retreat into bitterness.
“So I think it's great that you care. In fact, I think it would be sad and unhealthy if you didn't care. Anyway, here's a video to cheer you up.”
Stephen was right. That did cheer me up.
There was a time when I believed that Kentucky’s superconcern for the UK men’s basketball team was at the heart of basically every ill in this state. If people didn’t care so much about the Wildcats, the schools would get better. If people didn’t care so much about UK, there’d be more and better jobs, and more Kentuckians would feel more at home here, etc.
I no longer remember the stepping stones within that logic. I think I was wrong.
Kentucky—not that you should have noticed when I left then, not that you should care now—I’m back. I’m rooting for the whole state. I’m rooting for UK tonight against UNLV. I’m rooting for all of the Kentucky teams in the men’s NCAA, women’s NCAA and WNIT. I’m rooting for schools, jobs and hospitality. I’m rooting for Greenville, and I’m rooting for Henderson. I really love this whole state, and that’s what this blog is about.
“I would give two reasons,” my friend, former-Kentuckian Stephen, explained in an e-mail from his home in Northern Virginia. “First, basketball should be very special to anyone who really loves Kentucky. In my opinion, basketball is the best thing about Kentucky. All the other major attributes of Kentucky life are things that Kentuckians either share with other Southerners (fundamentalist religion, the rural lifestyle, Bluegrass music) or belong almost exclusively to the rich (horse racing, an appreciation for good bourbon, politics). Only basketball belongs exclusively to the average people of the Commonwealth. It is perfectly suited to the weather—December to February are dreadful months in Kentucky weather-wise, and basketball gives you something to think about. It is perfectly suited to the demographics—basketball is the ultimate game for small towns and local neighborhoods, the one sport that poor kids can teach themselves and play by themselves. And it is perfectly suited to Kentuckians' love of controversy, argument, conspiracy theory and the radio. So basketball in Kentucky is not like basketball anywhere else.
“Second,” smart Stephen continued, “healthy and normal people (like you and your family) are sensitive to the demands of tradition. We Kentuckians have been left a great tradition of basketball success by the generations who went before us, and we hate the thought of letting that tradition lapse. Kentucky has been winning games and championships for a long time, and it would be heartbreaking to see that all come to an end. One reason, I believe, that modern British thought is so dominated by cynicism and sarcasm is that sensitive British people realize, at some level, that they lost the power and prestige in the world that had belonged to their ancestors. That is a devastating burden to carry, and it's not surprising that their response is to retreat into bitterness.
“So I think it's great that you care. In fact, I think it would be sad and unhealthy if you didn't care. Anyway, here's a video to cheer you up.”
Stephen was right. That did cheer me up.
There was a time when I believed that Kentucky’s superconcern for the UK men’s basketball team was at the heart of basically every ill in this state. If people didn’t care so much about the Wildcats, the schools would get better. If people didn’t care so much about UK, there’d be more and better jobs, and more Kentuckians would feel more at home here, etc.
I no longer remember the stepping stones within that logic. I think I was wrong.
Kentucky—not that you should have noticed when I left then, not that you should care now—I’m back. I’m rooting for the whole state. I’m rooting for UK tonight against UNLV. I’m rooting for all of the Kentucky teams in the men’s NCAA, women’s NCAA and WNIT. I’m rooting for schools, jobs and hospitality. I’m rooting for Greenville, and I’m rooting for Henderson. I really love this whole state, and that’s what this blog is about.
No comments:
Post a Comment