I have been a University of Kentucky fan my whole life. There have been moments of glory - I have witnessed 3 Championships won (1996, 1998, 2012). Unfortunately, there have been moments of an overwhelming sadness. I cried when Rex Chapman went to the NBA. I cried when we lost to Duke in 1992 (yes, that game.) I cried in 2010 with Demarcus and Patrick. Today is another one of those days.
That’s the thing about sports. As much as there is the possibility for joy, there is the possibility for grief. And anyone who argues differently, that “it’s just a game” is just wrong. My head kind of gets that “it’s just a game” thing, but my heart… it’s so not just a game. And if I could explain that to you in words, I would. But I don’t know if I can. Because to me, being a fan of a particular team and a particular sport is a connection I make with my heart, not my head.
From the earliest that I can remember, Kentucky Basketball has been about family to me. (Ashely Judd talks about basketball this way, too. She gets it.) My parents both graduated from UK. My dad teaches in the UK dental school today. My brother got a masters degree from UK’s Patterson school. And even though I never formally went there (one of my biggest regrets) I feel connected to the University through my family. And not just through their education connections, but also thought the way that my family included Kentucky Basketball as a centerpiece in our own traditions. When I lived at home we watched games together. When I moved out to college and beyond, I talked to my parents before the game, at halftime, when it was over. When that shot was made in 1992, my whole family cried, together in the den. My parents were visiting my home in Mississippi when Mitch Barnhart hosted a press conference announcing John Calipari as our new head coach. I could recount so many more stories of watching the games as family, but you get the point. It’s become an integral part of my story. If tomorrow there was no more basketball - it was outlawed or banned, I would feel like an important part of me had died. Part of my story would be lost.
Yesterday was Easter. I went to church. Not only was it the biggest day of the year at church, but I was singing with the band. If it wasn’t Easter I might have begged my husband if I could just stay home and sleep off the hurt. He would have said no, because he’s the pastor at church, and he (and I) both know there is something much bigger in this world than basketball. Some people might consider my devotion to border on idolatry, but usually I can draw the line quite clearly. When I got to church I knew there would be people who might mention the game, because my love for Kentucky Basketball has spread like a virus, but a really good one, and I have friends who root for my team because they’re my friends. I wore my sunglasses. I had been crying. How can you cry on Easter? You can. People were gracious to me. But after a few comments and me on the verge of more tears, I realized people were saying the same nice things to me that they might say if my grandparent had died. “We are so sorry for your loss.” “We were thinking of you and know how you feel.” “Are you ok? We are sorry.” The only difference was nobody said, “At least they are in a better place now, with no pain.” Because in college basketball there is no better place than the Championship Game! And it’s painful when you lose a game you were meant to win.
So yeah, it felt like a funeral on Easter. Don’t worry, I composed myself for the service. But after that it still felt like the death of someone I dearly love.
And it some ways it is.
This team, the 2014-2015 University of Kentucky Men’s Basketball Team, is quite possibly the greatest team I will ever witness. Not because of their basketball skill, but because of the perception I have of these players. I love them. I have read about them, seen them on TV, watched them play, and every time I learn something new, I grow more endeared to them. And they won’t ever play together again.
I first knew I had it bad for this team early one morning back in December. For some reason I drove my 5 year old to kindergarten. My husband usually drives her, but I did that day. I dropped her off and was singing along to the radio, watching the train speed past us, when the ESPN Sportscenter song started playing on my iPhone. And for some reason I looked at the notification while I was driving. And it read that Alex Poythress had torn his ACL and was out for the season. I immediately called my brother who, no surprise, didn’t answer. Next I called Mom. She didn’t know about it yet. When I got home, I walked into the living room. My husband was drinking coffee. He looked at me and I could tell he knew something was wrong. “I’m ok.” I said through tears. “And I know I shouldn’t be crying, but Alex tore his ACL and is out for the season. I just need to cry about it for a while.” And I did. I am lucky to have a husband who understands me.
My husband Ben is a Devin Booker fan. Devin played last year at the high school in Moss Point about thirty minutes from where we live, and we said all during his season that we wanted to go watch him play, but it never worked out to do so. Devin is a shooter. We were concerned for him when he went through his shooting slump.
I’ve claimed Aaron and Andrew Harrison as my cousins. My maiden name is Harrison and I’m clutch under pressure, too. Not really, but I like to pretend I am.
Ben and I have three kids. Sadie is 6, Joe is almost 5, and Lizzie is almost 3. Joe is having a basketball birthday party in a couple of weeks. He has worn his Kentucky basketball jersey for the last 3 days, at least. He wore it under his Easter button down yesterday. He sleeps in it, too. At the start of the NCAA tournament, I made him his own Willie Cauley-Stein jersey. I was bummed because I spelled Stein wrong and I snipped a hole in the back of the shirt when I was trimming the threads, but Joe has not minded in the least. He wears that shirt when his jersey is in the wash. I also made him a Devin Booker shirt. Lizzie got in on the action with a Devin Booker shirt (with ruffles) and Sadie wanted WCS, too.
Joe is obsessed with Willie. I think it all started when he found out Willie was 7 feet tall. One Wednesday night, I left to go to band practice and Joe was not happy about it. He was crying and losing it when Ben thought of a way to distract him. Ben got out masking tape and a a tape measure and marked Sadie’s, Joe’s, and Lizzie’s heights on the wall next to the kitchen. Then he marked his own height and the heights of Willie, Dakari, Alex, Derek Willis, Karl-Anthony Towns, Trey Lyles, and Marcus Lee. That took Joe’s mind off me leaving and we’ve left the tape on the wall ever since. Joe wanted to know what all that was on Willie’s arms. I told him it was tattoos, but they don’t wash off. So, everyday, Joe gets his stamps out and inks his arms and neck so he can look like Willie. The girls do, too, but they are not as dedicated as Joe. Then there’s a video Joe watches at least twice every day. It was the hype video for the Arkansas game. He calls it “the dunk video.” It has “Uptown Funk” as the soundtrack, so the video is called “Uptown Dunk.” It has the dunk Willie did at Florida. Now Joe is working on his own dunks.
Just like members of the Big Blue Nation across the world, my family was hoping this year would be the 40-0 season. Perfection. A National Championship season. Ben and I purchased tickets to the Championship game. I try to make choices in my life that will create big memories and tell great stories, and Ben (because he understands me) tried so hard to give me a big memory and a great story. If Kentucky was going to go 40-0, I was going to be in the building and witness it in person. We always knew not playing that game was a possibility, but knowing about a possibility, doesn’t take the sting out when it becomes a reality. So we sold our tickets and canceled our hotel room. And just because we recouped a bit of our financial loss, it doesn’t lessen the loss in my heart at all. All day long I’ve moped around. Because I was supposed to be in Indy. I was supposed to be a witness to history. I was supposed to get to see another moment of glory.
But instead, I’m at home, at my computer. I have the team poster hung on the wall above me and the one of just Alex that my mom had framed for my Christmas present. “Courage doesn’t always Roar.” My blue and white Christmas tree is still up beside me, for good luck, and my shelves are filled with UK paraphernalia and Maker’s Mark collectible bottles. On the mantel are all the UK pictures I could find and Anthony Davis, with his arms outstretched is like our patron saint, blessing the fireplace.
I’m thankful for this team and their stories of sacrificing playing time. Playing together and sharing really did get them to 38-1. The stories of sacrifice and kindness off the court and inspiring. I’ve loved reading about Karl-Anthony’s considerate spirit and Marcus Lee’s perspective on making someone else smile. Apparently all kids, not just mine, are drawn to Willie, and it’s gracious that he would take the time to visit some make them feel loved.
So at the end of this day, even though I’m sad, I’m glad. It’s disappointing to lose, but I’m not disappointed in my team or in their season. (My paraphrase of Ryan from KSR.) We are UK. We’re hanging a banner this year, we hung one last year, and it’s quite possible we’ll do it again next year. Not every team playing in the Final Four can say that.
I’m glad too, because I’ve seen some evidence that I’m continuing the legacy of including Kentucky Basketball in our family’s tradition. All three of my kids fell asleep late in the second half of Saturday night’s game. Nothing broke my heart more than waking them up on Easter morning and saying, “I have to tell you something sad. Kentucky didn’t win the game last night.” They took the news pretty well. Nobody cried but me.
Tonight after much arguing, Joe finally took his basketball jersey off. It needed to be washed. He was still Willie Cauley-Stein all day. I promised him I’d wash it and have it ready to wear again in the morning.
Years from now, I hope to look back on this weekend and remember it as a moment of sadness in the midst of many more moments of glory. There will be many more great Kentucky players in my lifetime. Hopefully there will be more trips to the Final Four. Maybe I’ll even get my story of being at the Championship Game. This year’s players will go their separate ways to play more basketball, to pursue other things, and hopefully to continue being kind. They’ll always be Kentucky Wildcats. And I’ll always be a fan.
