November images

An Open Letter to Lane Kiffin

Dear Lane,

Congratulations on your big win last night. You've managed to do what all those who've come before you have accomplished: beat Kentucky. I know. It's heady stuff. I read all about it on your Twitter update.

I assume Yew-Tee has encouraged you to embrace Twitter. Our own Coach Cal and Paw-Paw are using it quite well. From what I hear, Kiffy, you haven't quite mastered the art of tweeting. Perplexing, really. It isn't that hard. Just don't say anything stupid. Run your tweets, twotes, in your case twits, past someone else before you post. Simple, my friend.

Your little post today managed to raise some ire, brother. "Kentucky will always be Kentucky. Tennessee will always be Tennessee." I can swallow hard and admit that. After 25 years, I guess there is some truth to that statement.

I'm ready to make some statements of my own, okay? Florida will always be Florida, 'Bama will always be 'Bama, Georgia will always be Georgia, UCLA will always be UCLA, and, yes, Tennessee will always be Tennessee.

Lane, we had a coach at Kentucky once. He may or may not have cursed our field. His name was Bear Bryant. He won more games that you have, so perhaps you might listen to some of his pearls of wisdom. He famously said, "Son, act like you been somewhere before."

'til basketball season, xoxo, Jenks

P.S. I've been thinking hard about who I hate more, UT or U of L. Tennessee fans don't gloat nearly as much when Louisville beats us. I still hate Louisville more. I hope that hurts you.

Condolences

The Kentucky Girls extend their heartfelt condolences to the Seiler family, UGA VII's owners, as well as to the University of Georgia's fans. UGA VII was a handsome boy who will be sorely missed by SEC fans everywhere.

An Open Letter to Florida Fans

Dear Florida Fans,

This letter is not directed to the majority of you. Several of you attended the sorry UK-Florida game last night, and your manners were exemplary. Three of you even sat behind me, and I didn't notice. No, this little missive is directed to the posse of fifteen I saw exiting Commonwealth last night.

Gentlemen, your shirts annoyed me. "Why Are We Even Here?" in reference to your three titles was irritating. BTW, I'll see your three and raise you seven. Your matching orange and blue camo pants beg the question, "How are you even here?" How does a band of fifteen men, obviously of questionable IQ, even find Lexington? Greyhound?

Let's be clear, your pants were neither fashionable nor attractive. Your wives can rest easy. You remained untouched by the female populace of Lexington.

Sincerely,

Jenks

It's football season!

 

Why are you on the internet? There's a game to watch!

C-A-T-S, Cats, Cats, Cats!!!

The Ex That Won't Go Away

My essay on Rick Pitino appears in the August 26 issue of Ace Weekly.  Just as it went to press, he threw his little fit.  ESPN should soooo hire me to balance out Pat Forde.

-h

Everyone has that one ex that just won’t go away. Maybe it’s the ex-husband with whom you share custody, the one you artfully avoid at recitals and soccer games. Maybe it’s the former boyfriend with whom you still share a network of professional and social contacts -- the guy who makes your every visit to Merrick or Cheapside a potential landmine. Or, just maybe, it’s the guy who wouldn’t commit—well, he wouldn’t commit to you, that is—and now you can’t stop yourself from googling/ facebooking/ twittering him, even though your relationship has been over for years.  Whatever the particular facts of the situation, there are just some exes that we can’t escape. For the Wildcat Nation, Rick Pitino is that ex.

Once upon a time, Big Blue Fans, we were madly in love with Coach Pitino. From the moment he arrived in the Bluegrass, Armani-clad and magnificently coiffed, he swept us off our feet. Maybe we made the mistake of falling for our rebound guy too hard and too fast, but we were still recovering from a bad relationship that reeked of codependence and enabling. And there was something about Rick’s big city manners and flashy accent that just got under our skin.

We had some good times with Rick. We thought we’d found the perfect mix of stability and glamour. We thought we could build something beautiful and long-lasting. Something like Joanne and Paul. Better yet, something like Wooden and UCLA. At first, he delivered. We won a lot, and we looked damn pretty doing it. We were on top of the world, regaining our rightful place in the annals of basketball history, and the man we loved was making it all happen. Then, with no warning, he unceremoniously dumped us, seeking the glamour and glory of coaching in the pros.

We took the rejection in stride. We even managed to win another National Championship almost immediately. And, we must admit that we even laughed (just a little) when Rick’s glitzy new paramour sent him packing after a scant three seasons. Then we recoiled in horror when he took up with a younger, trashier version of ourselves. He certainly rubbed this scandalous affair in our faces. And we grew to resent him.

Finally, we settled into a pattern of quiet acceptance. We made the tacit agreement with our ex that, since we lived a mere seventy miles apart and were bound to run into each other from time to time, it would be best to keep things civil. We even started to remind ourselves that there were some good times. Good times like the way our ex built up our collective self-esteem after our disastrous divorce. Good times like winning a National Championship. Good times like the “Unforgettables” team of 1992. Good times like the crazy-comeback game at LSU in 1994.  We liked to think that we were more mature, wiser, and possibly starting to mellow.  Maybe, if we had to have an ex, Rick wasn’t that bad.  On our kinder days, we pitied him just a little—he looked so bored and lackluster at Louisville that we couldn’t quite stay angry at him. We were finally in a good place, and had found our own new partner, one who exuded charming charisma and exhibited more than a little antipathy for our ex. Things were good.

Then, as these things inevitably go, our genteel arrangement was rocked to its very foundation. Our ex was caught with his pants down -- both proverbially and quite literally -- in the most embarrassing manner possible. Suddenly, our charming little arrangement felt like a sham. We were less Demi and Bruce than Jon and Kate.  Our ex had been carrying on in the tackiest way possible, and it was suddenly ESPN’s lead story. Our horror was deepened when he defended his behavior as a response to 9/11. We reminded ourselves that he only had two arrows in his quiver – 9/11 and the 2-3 zone, and the latter wouldn’t work on the national media.  Beneath the jokes, we were horrified at the stain on our own reputation. We could just envision the headlines: “Sex and Basketball in the Bluegrass State”; would we channel Elizabeth Edwards and take a stance of charming stoicism or would we give in to our baser instincts? 

Whether we characterize Pitino as the one that got away or the one we were lucky to lose, he’s part of the remarkable history of the University of Kentucky basketball program. He modernized our program with impenetrable defense and a daring assault of three-point shooting. He rebuilt our program at a time when we needed it. To be perfectly honest, the Sypher allegations come as no surprise; Pitino has always incited rumors of wanderlust, if you will.   Pitino’s role in the Sypher scandal is, quite simply, that of a good coach who made some very bad personal decisions. As the emerging stories about this situation become more outlandish and distasteful, I feel less prurient interest. Once again, I’m almost sorry for our ex. Almost.

Fashion Dos and Don'ts (UK Football Edition)

It's almost football season in the Bluegrass, y'all.

As soon as Commonwealth Stadium opens for tailgating, we'll see a wild array of outfits. There will be freshmen and sorority girls trying to prove that they DRESS UP, no matter the circumstance. Others will show up in dreadful Daisy Dukes-and-oversized jersey combos that make one wonder whether they're wearing pants at all.

To prevent the awkward embarrassment of showing up in the wrong thing, the Kentucky girls have put together a few rules of thumb.

Don'ts:

• Dresses
• Heels
• Silky fabrics
• Super-low rise jeans
• Ridiculously trendy sunglasses

The key here is casual comfort, ladies. The same outfit that looks adorable for pref party or the Clubhouse makes you look foolish at a tailgate. You're outside.  At best, you're walking on grass. Far more often, you're in mud up to your ankles.  And you'll most likely be sitting on metal bleachers. If you're fortunate enough to sit in a skybox, feel free to disregard all of my suggestions. You're clearly doing something right. For the rest of us, metal bleachers require a higher-rise jean. Nobody wants to see your underwear (or worse)... The basic rule of thumb when dressing for a football game? Imagine how you (and your ensemble) would react if someone threw you a football. Or spilled beer on you. Would a seam rip? Would your spike heels sink into the ground? Would your dress be ruined? If the answer is yes, then leave it at home.

Not suitable for football. by wildcatblue featuring Forever21

Dos:

• Natural fabrics like cotton or wool.
• Flats or sneakers
• Comfortable layers
• Flattering jeans or slacks
• Most important of all, BLUE AND WHITE!!

Autumn/winter weather in Kentucky is notoriously unpredictable. Make sure to bring layers to accommodate the tempramental weather. Flats are crucial, as you will be walking a lot. Make sure to check the stadium's size requirements on any purse you may carry (this Kentucky girl may have found some stadiums that considered her trusty LV Speedy 35 to be too big to carry in). Most importantly, this is a time to support your team. I don't care how cute your new Tory Burch dress is, nor that chic black is your signature look. Wear team colors. And have fun!

--h

always appropriate by wildcatblue featuring J Crew




ETA: I know that a lot of Southern schools do the over-the-top dressy tailgates; a lot of my Vandy fan friends are cute as a button in their game day attire. We just go a little more low-key at Kentucky. It's a matter of personal taste. (And I really meant more "freshmen in silky F21 clubwear" than preppy sundresses...)