All but four of the 47 seasons I have been a fan of Kentucky
basketball, have ended in a loss, and I had 38 reasons to believe this year
would make it five; but of course, that did not happen. If the Cats had won
last night, I would have done 40 pushups first thing out of bed, because for over
a month, I have been doing the number of pushups equivalent to the number of
the next victory, starting at around 25. I would do that many pushups to get a
little feel of what it was like to do anything so many times in a row, plus it
tested me, sort of like the Cats were going to be tested. I always do at least
50 pushups each day, but during this stretch, I was forcing myself to do large
numbers in one set. I plan to do 40 when I finish writing this, as a tribute to
the team. It won’t make them feel any better, but it will help me demonstrate
my will to keep going.
Not that stopping was an option. Stopping what? I will not
quit being a Kentucky basketball fan and unless something terrible and
surprising happens, I won’t stop being altogether; although as the game wound
down last night, it was tough not to confuse that big D – defeat with the other
big D – death.
We fans of Kentucky basketball take it seriously and many
people say it is because we have nothing else in our lives; but I would say it
is because we have so much in our lives made better by our passion for Kentucky
basketball. Maybe most importantly, it is a family thing for us.
During the days before the final four, I was listening to
coverage on the radio. I heard a father call in who said he was driving with
his ten-year-old son from Charlotte, NC to Indianapolis, to “make a memory.” He
said he had the tickets in the kitchen cabinet, and during the narrow escape
over Notre Dame he was afraid they would not get to use them. I have a feeling
that father and son pair will be having an interesting conversation today on
the drive back to Charlotte.
I am guessing the son will have been hard to awaken this
morning and once awake, not all that willing to talk. They will likely have had
the complimentary breakfast at the hotel and then load the car and hit interstate
75. By now, they will be getting close to Cincinnati and maybe it will be
building up in the father how they need to talk and so he might ask his son to
take out his earbuds, which his son will reluctantly do.
Father – It’s sad, isn’t it?
Son – It’s awful.
Father – I keep going over in my mind what they could have
done different to win.
Son – I’m not. I don’t want to even think about it.
Father – Are you glad we made the trip?
Son – Of course. It was so much fun driving up here and last
night was fun until the end of the game.
Father – It will feel better in a few days.
Son – I know, but it sure hurts right now.
I hope when they stop in Lexington to stretch their legs,
they have a big father-son hug.
Another caller was a high-school social studies teacher from
Bowling Green, Kentucky and he and his wife were driving to Indy. He was
talking proudly about how Kentucky had gotten their wakeup call against Notre
Dame and that this game would be different. He said he liked to tell the students
in his classes who are Louisville fans, he would not flunk them, just for that.
I wonder what he will say to his classes on Monday morning.
Former Vanderbilt great, Will Perdue was on one of the shows
and he described how his son’s high-school teacher in Louisville, and her
family, were going to Indy to the final four as their annual vacation. This
morning, that family will return to Louisville knowing their yearly vacation is
over. Hopefully they did not put too much of it on credit cards.
Last night I stepped away from the TV for the last two
minutes of the game, leaving right after the refs missed the shot-clock
violation against Wisconsin, watching the ending through updates on my phone.
When I walked back into the room where Tanga was, a moment after it was over,
she looked at me and said: “You okay?”
I said, “Yeah, it’s just a game.”
“I know,” she said, “But I also know how you are.”
We hugged.
After a few minutes of watching Saturday Night Live, I
decided to go on to bed. She stayed up a while longer. Surprisingly, I went
right to sleep and I was only awake my usual hour or so during the night. I
woke up this morning, ready to run my 20 miler in preparation for the Kentucky
Derby Marathon, which comes up in three weeks.
My heart goes out to Kentucky fans everywhere, my daughter
included. Yesterday, she flew from San
Jose, Costa Rica to Fort Lauderdale, Florida; , missed her connection to
Orlando due to a two-hour customs ordeal, rented a car and drove to Orlando in
time to make her flight to Asheville, NC; got to a TV in time to see the start
of the game and watched the exciting game with the awful ending. I wish I could
hug her this morning.
If 43 years of seasons ending in losses have taught me anything,
it is that life goes on. The day after is always the hardest because you still
have those “if not for this or that’s” rolling around in your head. But soon
enough, we will all look back on this season as one of the greatest ever. For
five months, this team met every challenge and it took a great game from a
great team, to send them home with a loss.
Seven of Kentucky’s players are expected to go to the NBA,
three of whom are freshman. If those freshmen had not lost last night, they
might have gone to the NBA thinking college basketball is pain free. At least
now, if they go to the league, it will be with the knowledge that college
basketball, like life, is filled with loss and heartache. They might as well
start dealing with that now.
Those birds singing just outside the window, the sun coming
through the shades and my loving wife sitting on the couch in the next room,
are reminders of how routine will find its way back into my life. I am already
starting to think of next season and how good it will feel, if it ends in
victory.
