The Kentucky Girls

Deep Thoughts: Jenks

2011-12-10T21:08:00.005-05:00

The Kentucky/Indiana rivalry (I guess it's a rivalry now) has raged on this week. I've never cared, but as I heard about the warring Indiana factions who still love Bobby and the ones who don't I decided something: Pitino to Louisville saved UK.

Yep, I said it. I hate Pitino at Louisville. I laugh at every Sypher joke and ridiculous statement of hyperbole. I can't wait 'til he leaves so I can like him again. Having said that, we need him there.

Imagine Pitino bombs with the Celtics and takes some mediocre college job. No other Kentucky coach would ever survive. We'd constantly make Pitino comparisons, and no one could compete. Can't you just hear the "Bring back Rick," reminiscent of, "You think Richie's gonna start?" Rick did us a favor when he united us in our disdain of him.

I can't believe I just said that.

What does it all mean?

2011-11-21T23:35:00.001-05:00

Over on Her Kentucky, we've got something of a debate going on tonight. Is Kentucky basketball just a game, or does it heal the sick and unite families?

I'll let you guess where I stand on that issue.

I'd love to know what the Wildcats mean to y'all.

Sticks and Stones~Jenks

2011-11-06T21:04:00.000-05:00

Can y'all feel the SEC hate? Do you love it?? I know we're SEC roadkills, so to speak, but it's still fun to hear haters cry about the big, bad SEC.

I found a blog by ClayTravis BGID on Twitter talking about why some guy hates the SEC. Team by team the obvious loser listed his reasons for hate. Did you know LSU fans are accused of smelling like corndogs? And furthermore, did you know this greatly upsets them? I don't know how a collective body of people could smell like corndogs; if anything, I'd imagine them smelling llike shrimp or whiskey. And, child, please, try being told you do things with your cousins. Bring on the corndogs.

The guy couldn't hate Vandy. I feel him. We all love Vandy. Even when they win, they're smart and lovable. It's cool.

I really care, though, what he said about Kentucky. What he hated about Kentucky was John Calipari: vacate, probation, yada, yada.

Am I only speaking for myself when I say I don't care? I feel that I'm not alone as a Kentucky Basketball fan when I say that I don't really think much about other programs. UMass is UMass; Memphis is Memphis; Kentucky is Kentucky. If Cal is found to cheat here, I'll burn his pictures in his bonfire ala "Success Is A Choice." Until then, Marcus Camby, to me, is the guy we beat in the Final Four. "Cal's a Cheater," doesn't hurt me anymore than, "You don't wear shoes." By the way, friend, if you'll look down, you'll see that I'm wearing Frye boots, so...

A Louisville fan did get a good jab the other day. He said, "You drink as much as we do, and you do the same things we do. You just think you're classy because you do it in a sundress and with a slight Southern accent." Ouch.

An aside...A college girl with that awful college voice (the one that ends every word in "uh") asked my dad to donate for Dance Blue last night. "Would yuh lake to give moneh to Danze Bluh?" My Dad honestly asked her to speak English, and I had to translate. It was the very best!

Go Cats! Beat the Sonny Seiler's!

Blue or Crimson?

2011-11-02T07:14:00.000-04:00

Y'all.My Facebook feed is full of Transy girls trying to make a big decision. What should they wear tonight? Crimson or Blue?

Now, y'all know that Jenksie and I are the biggest Wildcats fans around. But, we're also Transy alumnae. Now, I can't speak for Jenks, but a little bit of internet peer pressure has left me wondering if I should dress like this tonight.

Uh, no. For so many reasons. First of all, well, you know. Second, everybody knows that you don't dress super-fan for an exhibition, even if it quite literally is a rematch that's been a century in the making.

As for me, I hold degrees from both schools. I adored my time at Transy, but I've bled blue since birth. I'll be dressed rather neutrally, getting my long-awaited first peek at Teague, Gilcrest and Davis, and remembering that Transy gave both C.M. and UK itself their start.

Go Cats. And Pioneers.

(Check out my post on Her Kentucky for more about the UK-Transy series.)

Costumes

2011-10-27T22:29:00.001-04:00

I don't quite know what it is, but I keep getting emails and links suggesting that I dress my loved ones as Derek Dooley for Halloween.

via Pennington and Bailes

via Saturday Down South

If you go this route, don't forget the microphones, y'all. And maybe some binoculars.

Carrier Camo Conundrum

2011-10-26T22:04:00.001-04:00

Y'all know that Jenksie and I have no particular love for Sparty. And our feelings for the Tar Heels are no secret either.

Then, today, we heard about the Carrier Classic.

These uniforms, y'all. They hurt my eyes. Really badly.

But, this is a really amazing Veterans Day tribute to the American troops. And a game on an aircraft carrier would be a cool, one-of-a-kind event.

So much so that I'm going to refrain from further camo snark. If they're available for purchase, I can't make any promises.

Is Josh Hopkins the Male Ashley Judd?

2011-10-04T01:51:00.002-04:00

I know y'all got sick of seeing this, too.

Remember back in the late Nineties, when Ashley was on that hockey poster and every frat guy had it framed and hung on the wall? This was way back when she was still a Kappa Kappa Gamma from Boyd County, not a European (you know, the way Madonna is European) diplomat and activist. It was well before she was writing tell-all books about her reality. It was back when the world considered her our team's biggest (and, arguably, prettiest) fan. And then, the hockey posters became a whole thing, with McSteamy's wife and a whole bunch of chicks I didn't know, and Ashley started pissing people off, and suddenly only Dickie V cared about her being at the game.

Yeah, it seems like a long time ago to me, too.

My point is, there was a time when Ashley Judd was the Wildcats' most high-profile fan. She was always camera-ready at big games and she spoke knowledgeably about the games. She was one of the things that the national sports media came to associate with the University of Kentucky's basketball program. Now, she still shows up now and again, but she's off saving the world with Bono or whatever. In the past year or so, it's seemed that Josh Hopkins is the new Ashley. And, in addition to still being a straight-up Kentuckian, he is so, so pretty, y'all.

The way I see it, Josh has way out-Ashleyed Ashley in so many important ways:

Image via Herald-Leader

Josh is an actual working actor, and therefore, legitimately famous. His TV show actually runs on a major network, not USA at 2 a.m.
Josh is on the Calipari train. That so trumps sitting tête-à-tête with Joanne Pitino.
Josh dates Erin Andrews. Longtime Kentucky Girls readers know that Erin is our girlcrush. Casual SportsCenter viewers know that Erin is an SEC alumna.

In fact, the only negative thing I can say about Josh is that he went to Auburn. But, let's not focus on that little detail. Instead, we'll call him a Lexington native. And a Sayre alum. And an SEC guy. And the guy who did the John Wall on a sitcom.

And the guy who reps the Cats wherever he can.

Barfly: Coach Cal's town by FOX_Sports_Interactive

And he wears these cutie-pie glasses. Top that, Ashley.

Friday Night Ramblings

2011-09-30T23:41:00.001-04:00

So, I could not be more excited about Anthony Davis. It seems the adjectives "dominant" and "amazing" are already part of his name. Basketball season is almost here, y'all.
As the rumors and reorganizations get more and more ridiculous, there's one constant: Rick Pitino is crazier than a shithouse rat. I'm not gonna lie, his increasingly paranoid rants about the Big East almost make up for the insane addition of A&M to the SEC. Almost.
I'm no economist, but I tend to agree with the general consensus of late; the business of college sports is just that, and its present structure is wildly unfair to the athletes comprising its ranks. Taylor Branch's amazing article in this month's Atlantic says it better than I ever could: The system is broken. Not to go all Bilas on you (although he is pretty smart for a Dukie...), but Mark Emmert's argument that the NCAA is not a business rings as hollow as Stern's argument that the Nets are a poor man's team.
I'm just going to keep watching this video. Because, you know, we could all use a little inspiration.

What Cheerleading Camp and Sorority Rush can Teach the BBN

2011-09-26T11:36:00.004-04:00

My high school cheerleading squad strikes a pose.

If I ever have a kid, I'm going to insist that she become both a cheerleader and a sorority girl. Now, I'm fully aware that I've just articulated the most ridiculous, outdated Southern cliché that one can imagine. The thing is, I'm not claiming that my hypothetical future daughter's most important life goals should be back handsprings or paint-pen crafts. But, I certainly believe that this tried-and-true path to Southern womanhood taught me a few important lessons. Lessons that extended to my professional and social well-being. Lessons that, if you'll kindly indulge me a few moments' explanation,could most assuredly be passed along to the Big Blue Nation right about now.

Keep smiling. My tiny Eastern Kentucky high school wasn't exactly known for its football program. In fact, my sophomore year was the first winning season in the football team's history. But, no matter how mediocre our game, my job as a cheerleader was to smile. And provide encouragement. Because I loved our team. You keep smiling. You work out your differences in private. And you strengthen your organization without presenting outward displays of strife for the entire world. As fans, we need to keep smiling-- we need to support the players we have and support the organization we love while acknowledging that there's plenty of room for improvement.
Remember that you're here because you want to be. Whenever I got discouraged about any aspect of cheering or sorority life, my mama was always quick to remind me that I chose to be there. In fact, I was spending plenty of money for the privilege to be there. We're Kentucky fans. We always have been. We're paying for the privilege of football tickets. We'll pay for the privilege of tickets to what promises to be an incredible basketball season. Because we want to wear Kentucky Blue.
You don't always like everyone. Get over it.I spent four years as a part of a hundred-or-so-member sorority. I'd spent the previous decade on ten-to-fifteen member cheerleading squads. (For that matter, I've sat on more Junior League committees than I can begin to count...) There were enough in-fights, infidelities and intrigues to provide the CW with a year's worth of new material. Of course I didn't like all the girls involved. Some, I outright loathed. But I learned to keep it to myself, because the greater good of the group was more important. Maybe you don't like Joker's style of coaching. Maybe you think that your quarterback should put in more than two or three stellar minutes of play. While there are certainly adjustments to be made, at some point, we need to realize that this is the lineup we have for the year.
Maybe it was better in the past. That's kind of immaterial to the present. Some years, my cheer squad found ourselves undermanned and rudderless after a talented group of seniors graduated. Sometimes, my sorority suffered a lackluster rush and subsequently recruited a small pledge class. Sometimes, the football team for whom I was cheering did not replicate the storied First Winning Season that we enjoyed in 1991. These things happen. We miss Randall a whole lot right now. Hartline -- 'stache or no-- sure does sound good. They aren't coming back.

Sorority Bid Day.

These lessons from the land of hairbows and ribbon belts served me well as I entered the real world. They taught me to accept situations that I wish were otherwise. They taught me to adjust my attitude toward crappy situations. And, well, they're lessons that a whole lot of Wildcats fans would be well-advised to learn this year.

Every early indicator tells us that this is going to be an ugly, ugly football season. We've logged two back-to-back losses that have left many of us wondering whether any of the remaining 8 games can be won. It's an exhausting, frustrating thing to be a Kentucky football fan right now-- all we can do, it seems, is count the days until Keeneland and basketball.But, the thing is, we don't stop being Kentucky fans when the team sucks. No matter how disgusting Saturday's game was, I doubt any of you burned your Wildcat gear and started making that Gator-chomp thing. (If you did, then this blog probably isn't for you...) If the next few games play out as badly as I fear (it's gonna take a lot of bourbon to get through the LSU game...), then we need to keep smiling, sorority girl-style, and maintain a little grace and decorum until the post-season. It just seems the proper thing to do...

Big Bleu Hot Wing Dip

2011-09-24T19:33:00.001-04:00

So, I don't have a lot to say about tonight's game. They're Florida. We're not. Moving on.

One of my beau and my very favorite gameday snacks is Hot Wing Dip. This couldn't be easier to make, combines a tangy and spicy flavors, and even sneaks a few veggies in to your gameday consumption. I make a batch most Saturday mornings.

Heather's Big Bleu Hot Wing Dip

2-3 chicken breasts
1 8oz package cream cheese, softened
1 bottle hot wing sauce (I use Texas Pete)
1 bottle bleu cheese salad dressing
1 container bleu cheese crumbles
salt
pepper
olive oil

Place chicken breasts in glass baking dish. Drizzle with olive oil and sprinkle with salt and pepper. Bake at 350 until cooked through. Remove from heat, allow to cool slightly, and slice into chunks. (I often do this the night before and store in the refrigerator.)

Preheat oven to 325. Place cream cheese in large oven-safe bowl. Add entire bottle of hot wing sauce. Use handheld mixer to mix until smooth. Add bleu cheese salad dressing. Add chicken pieces, shredding as you blend them into mixture. Top with bleu cheese crumbles. Bake for 20 minutes or until bubbling.

Serve with Granny Smith Apple slices, celery slices and pita chips.

Pita Chips

Cut honey-wheat pitas into wedges; bake at 350 for 15-20 minutes or until crunchy.

Thank God For The Blue Lot

2011-09-18T09:48:00.002-04:00

Some Notes:

I love EJ Fields.

Stick 'Um. Buy some.

It's hard to watch a scoring drive and eat barbecue nachos.

Rajon, you played at Kentucky and grew up in Louisville. Why did you think a red, black, and white shirt was a good idea?

Louisville fans, you say we're historically mediocre. You're right. Here's the thing. We lead the series against you 14-10. Pot, meet kettle.

Wait, Kentucky fans (at least the one's sitting around me) you don't get off so easy. Shut up. You played high school football for a team that never won. Those Divison 1 SEC athletes don't need your help. Especially when you don't even know not to stomp your damn boot against the bleachers on offense. Thanks.

Also, you begged for Morgan Newton during Hartline's entire tenure. Stop asking for a freshman.

But kids, it's going to be a loooong season. Stock up on bourbon.

The Big Game

2011-09-17T19:45:00.000-04:00

Just add bourbon. via Tervis.

Hey y'all. Jenksie is at the game. I'm watching at home with a big Tervis Tumbler of Makers and Diet Coke.

We'll talk soon, but I just wanted to share a couple of UK-UL series-themed entries from the Kentucky Girls archives.

Why I could never date a Louisville Fan.

Why I never go to the Governor's Cup.

Go Cats!!

--HCW

TOUCHDOWN KENTUCKY!!!

2011-09-09T22:41:00.000-04:00

Once a Wildcat, always a Wildcat.

When I was a kid, I found it a little funny that my dad thought of Pat Riley, first and foremost, as an alumnus of the famous Rupp's Runts team, even at the height of Pat's slicked-back Lakers glory. Even though we were a UK household, it just seemed a little old-fashioned or something. Fast forward a couple decades, and I'm following in Daddy's footsteps. I broke down this year's NBA Playoffs with statements like "Well, the Heat have Magloire, who's my boy. On the other hand, they have D-Wade whom I respect as a player but I haven't forgiven for 2003." or "I've gotta cheer for the Thunder; I always thought Nazr had more talent than Tubby got out of him.", or my personal favorite "Does Bogans negate Noah?" It was more than little psychotic, but it reinforced the point my daddy made thirty years ago: We're UK people. For a lifetime.

Now, I'm not a huge professional sports fan. I'll watch NBA games around the Playoffs, but generally find professional play to be way too slick and packaged. And I've tried and tried to watch NFL, but I just can't muster any passion for pro football. I don't have a strong allegiance to the Bengals, although so many Kentuckians consider them our local team. I've tried to pick a team to follow, but I find my attention wandering as my beau and my dogs spend their Sundays (and Monday nights) glued to the TV. This year, my allegiance was picked for me. A team whose roster includes two of our boys -- one a testament to perseverance, the other a superstar? This is me, y'all. Jumping on the Packers Bandwagon.

All of this is really just a fancy way of saying...

TOUCHDOWN KENTUCKY!!!!

Go Cats... Uh, I mean Pack!

-- HCW

We're Back.

2011-09-08T13:58:00.002-04:00

Hey y'all. We're back, and we have a lot to say! Stay tuned!

Cheers,

HCW

The Blue Lot Wedding

2010-10-23T15:24:00.001-04:00

By now, every member of the BBN has heard about the Blue Lot Wedding that's set to take place during today's Homecoming/Tailgate festivities. It makes sense, really. October in Lexington is one of the most beautiful sights anyone will ever see. Besides, what could be more fun than sharing your special day with about 60,000 of your closest Big Blue friends?

Ever since I heard about this event, though, I've racked my brain to come up with the perfect hypothetical outfit. If someone invited me to a tailgate wedding, what would be appropriate attire? It needs to be serious enough to reflect the sanctity of the occasion, but at the same time casual enough to keep you comfortable during a night game. And when your school colors are blue and white, do you still need to observe the old "only the bride wears white" adage?

It's quite the conundrum. Ultimately, it seems like a good time to pull out the "better quality" UK items that you've received as Christmas presents. The UK plaid seems appropriate, as does your very nicest UK sweatshirt -- maybe the Columbia polar fleece or the embroidered Nike one. I'd still stick to blue-- let the bride have the honor of wearing the white sweatshirt!

I also think it's a great time to pull out the more "blinged" stuff. Sapphires would be appropriate. So would fancy blue shades or even those blue Tory Burch flats about which I've expressed some misgivings. And you can bet that, if I were the bride, I'd be searching high and low for an old-school sequined wildcat sweater from the Dawahares Mamaw collection (you know the one!) to commemorate the event.

The Kentucky Girls extend best wishes to the Blue Lot couple. Go Cats!!

All Dressed in Blue by wildcatblue

A Quick And Boring Guide To The Bledsoe Sitch: Jenks

2010-09-24T19:46:00.002-04:00

When I'm not drinking in parking lots or playing on facebook, I actually spend much of my time implementing education law. Because of that, this Eric Bledsoe fiasco is driving me insane. Here in these United States, where letting people pay for your living expenses and taking Algebra 3 is legal and beating people because of hairbrushes and threatening to kill your girlfriend is not, we have a little law we like to call FERPA (Federal Educational Right To Privacy Act.)

This act means that I cannot release to a college that a student I work with has received special education services. It means I can't tell y'all the funny stories that happen at work everyday. And it means that no one gets to know the grades Eric Bledsoe made in high school unless Eric Bledsoe wants to brag. I don't know if it's illegal for "The New York Times" to print Eric's grades, but I know fo' sho' that it's illegal for the Birmingham Schools, or a college coach, or anyone but Eric or his mama to go telling them. The school system knows that, too. That's why the grades in the report were redacted real quick-like today before the report was released. Say that three times fast.

I think Bledsoe needs to sue. No, he doesn't need the money. No, it didn't really affect him. But somebody had a grudge out there, and that person knowingly broke the law. Please go get $#!+ right, Eric.

Lee Corso Doesn't Wear Jeggings

2010-09-11T12:33:00.002-04:00

Here at the Kentucky Girls, we're big fans of Erin Andrews. Even if she doesn't always choose attire that we'd deem appropriate.

We make no secret of the fact that Erin has the job we'd both love to have. I mean, she gets paid to watch college sports. Her company flies her all over the country to watch football and basketball. And talk about it. She's even got a great working relationship with Coach Cal. Seriously, what could be better than all that?

Granted, her job has its downsides, too.

But, mainly, we just love Erin. We love Erin for being a pretty SEC girl who "done good." We respect her for making a lasting name for herself in the male-dominated world of sports broadcasting. We don't however, like her clothes one little bit.

We were thrilled when we heard that Erin was getting her own expanded portion of College GameDay. What a great opportunity for her to expand her professional brand!

But, with all due respect Erin, (and, indeed, we are saying "with all due respect") we'd advise you to cover up.

Did ABC let her keep the wardrobe?

We're now two weeks into Erin's stint as an anchor on College GameDay. As a sports reporter with a shiny new renegotiated contract, she should be flexing her journalistic muscle (or at, very least, providing her signature style of friendly sideline reporting.) Instead, she's standing around in jeggings and sequins. Last week, her pants were so tight that she could barely stand. This week, a good friend of mine who happens to be a Vols fan (yes, it is possible with a little grace and good taste!) Facebooked me to ask if I thought Erin had taken her Dancing With The Stars costumes on the road this year. Sadly, I was forced to agree.

Erin, honey, you have a lovely figure. We all stood behind you during the trial, swearing that we saw you as more than that figure. And, we're all for accentuating your positive attributes. But there's a thin line between sexy and slutty. It's time to take a bit of a stand with ESPN. Your GameDay colleagues are in suits. Mercifully, Lee Corso is not wearing jeggings. Perhaps you should consider a similar path.

Corso wears Big Al, but draws the line at jeggings.

Familiarity Breeds Contempt: Jenks

2010-09-05T10:10:00.002-04:00

I live approximately three miles from the newly revamped and reportedly very luxurious Papa Johns Cardinal Stadium. If someone had told my ten-year-old self this fact, tears might have ensued. I'm not one of those people H mentioned who cheers for Louisville when they aren't playing Kentucky. It's not about the players really. I have enough perspective to realize that every student-athlete can't play for my team. If Bilau Powell, Victor Anderson, Jerry Smith, or Peyton Siva put on a blue uniform, I'd cheer my heart out for them. The reason I don't cheer for Louisville is the fans.

I also know Louisville fans are no different from any other fanbase. And speaking of fanbases, we have our share of obnoxious ones, I'll go ahead and say it now. I saw the tailgater telling Tennessee fans we were better...at football. Please. It's all proximity. The reason I don't hate Oregon State fans is I don't know any. The reason I can't stand Louisville fans is that they're all around me.

Having said that, I'll go ahead and list my four types of Louisville fans:

1) All my friends. 95% of the fanbase who are nice, normal people. We can have perfectly civil discussions, even about our rivalry, and not even be heated. They can tell me how great the Orange Bowl year was in the entirety of Louisville athletics, and I'll agree. Done.

2) The traitor crowd. Their argument, "How can you cheer against your hometown," usually followed by "You didn't even go to UK." I won't bother with counter-arguments here. You are all smart people. I guess when at least 60% of the city doesn't cheer for the city's school, it wears on a person.

By the way, these are the same people who would like to secede and form a city-state. All I can say is, I'll keep my Keeneland Race Course, and you can have your Portland Neighborhood. Think about it.

3) Jersey Shore: I swear there were times yesterday I thought I was in Newark. Maybe? I've never actually been to Newark. Example: A motorized margarita cart passed by. (Cute idea, slightly skanky. ) The margarita purveyor was wearing a pink shirt with a cardinal bird--cut out. Jeans. Thigh-high hooker boots. At a football game. Now what do you think Lee Todd would say about that?

4) Vittles and meth. I'm so tired of this business. I know we all indulge in stereotypes. In fact, I'm doing it right now. All I ask is that we keep it to the internet and call-in shows. As we walked in yesterday, the C-A-T-S cheer erupted. Some jerk looked right at me and said, "C-A-Y-U-T-S." Dude, wait 'til I sober up, bring your JCC degree over here, and we'll debate. If Card fans want to make fun of us, there's plenty of material. We have two whole years of Billy Gillispie. For realz. The way I say Cats, or more embarrassingly, ice, is irrelevant.

Why I Didn't Go. And Never Will.

2010-09-05T08:36:00.002-04:00

The Governor's Cup.

The Dream Game.

The Game I try not to watch, or at least not around other people.


Governor John Y. Brown, 1983.

I find that Kentucky fans fall into two camps: those who disdain the Cards, and those of the "I want all in-state teams to do well" ilk. I fall squarely into the former category, and can't really be objective. Throw in a cocktail, and I'm outright obnoxious. So, for the sake of all that is graceful and proper in this world, I don't go to Kentucky-Louisville games. I usually have the game on TV, but try to distract myself with a project, or the dogs, or something else. Because, otherwise, I'd be pulling an Elvis and shooting the TV.

Our dear Jenksie, being far classier and more graceful than me, will be telling you of her experiences at Pizza Stadium later today. I actually pointed the car in the far eastern direction yesterday, watched the game with my daddy (who is contractually obligated to put up with my yelling) and ordered some take-out from my favorite hometown Mexican restaurant:

That's right. The Big Blue. In a sombrero. It was delicious. And there wasn't a red t-shirt in sight.

Gameday!

2010-09-04T08:38:00.000-04:00

How's everyone spending the first Game Day of the year?

Whether you're tailgating or watching at home, here's to a great day!

Go Cats!!!

College Colors Day!

2010-09-03T09:42:00.001-04:00

Image via College Colors Day

Today is College Colors Day, a holiday that shows the world where your affiliations lie!

Image via Pennington and Bailes


Tervis Tumblers via Bed Bath & Beyond

I love that so many companies are creating subtle products that allow you to support your team in a variety of circumstances. Collegiate spirit doesn't have to mean you're dressed for a tailgate.

School Ties via Vineyard Vines

So, whether you're stuck at work today,

Image via Vineyard Vines

Tunic via Tracy Negoshian

or if your tailgate has already begun,

Image via Tervis Tumbler

you can wear your blue and white with pride!

How are you wearing your blue and white?

Sunday Morning Roundup

2010-08-15T14:58:00.000-04:00

Image via AJC

They can't spell "Mississippi State" in Bama. The jokes write themselves.
"Camp Canada" kicks off tonight at 6:30. Cal has noted he plans to avail himself of the unlimited timeout rule. Here's hoping it'll be finished up in time to catch Mad Men.
Joker plans to pick the starting quarterback in a week.
With Anthony Davis' decision on Friday, we're looking at three straight Number One recruiting classes. Davis and his parents have retained the poetically named Georgette Greenlee to set the Sun-Times straight.
It isn't often that you hear me say that I agree with Dick Vitale, but when he sets forth the thesis that any recruit would want to play here simply on the merits of Lexington and the Kentucky program, then we truly are on the same page.

19 days 'till football, y'all!

So, what do we think of these??

2010-08-11T19:25:00.001-04:00

If there are two things I love on this earth, it's cute shoes and Wildcat Blue.

I should have been so thrilled when I saw these, because they combine those true loves and add a pretty Tory Burch medallion.


Afrikan Reva Ballet Flat, via Tory Burch

And yet, I'm not at all thrilled. They should be the perfect gameday shoe, but instead provide me with nightmarish flashbacks of Sam & Libby bow-shoes, Limited stirrup pants, and other ugly reminders of the early Nineties.

What do we think, girls? A gameday must-have or a nasty throwback to high school?

Tailgates and Tervises

2010-08-09T09:42:00.001-04:00

UK v. UT, 2009

It's now three weeks and change until the first UK game of the season. Not to sound like an alarmist, y'all, but do you have your tailgating gear in order? There's still plenty of time, but you probably need to hurry if you want to order stuff online. There's nothing I hate worse than knowing that the finishing touch -- the very piece that will make my party complete -- is sitting at a FedEx sorting facility until the next Monday.

Just so we don't fall into that terrible pattern of late orders, the brilliant people at Tervis Tumbler are running a special on collegiate patterns this week. Just use the code SCHOOL at checkout, and any of your UK-themed cups will be 20% off. (I suppose any other collegiate pattern would be discounted as well, but I doubt the Kentucky Girls' readers are as interested in those...)

My Tervis Tumbler collection

I think, by now, most everyone knows that SEC tailgating and Tervis Tumblers go hand-in-hand. Or, cup-in-hand, if you'll forgive the terrible pun. Now, if you aren't using Tervis Tumblers for your tailgating (and general beverage-drinking) needs, you absolutely should be. They are one of the few products I've ever encountered that absolutely, 100% live up to all of their marketing and user hype. They keep cold drinks cold and hot drinks hot. End of story. No disclaimers, no special conditions. The cups have a double-walled construction of a high quality polycarbonate. Now, I've studiously avoided science classes my whole life, so I don't know what "polycarbonate" means. I sure do know, however, that these cups work perfectly. I suggest the 24-oz. Big-T: it's the perfect size for a serious bourbon-and-coke when you're tailgating, and makes a perfect sweet tea glass for everyday use. I also like the 16-oz., I have that in a pink version of my Junior League's logo; it's the perfect size for a water/juice glass, fits a little better in my car's drink holder, and is known around here as my Barbie cup!

Did I mention that Tervis Tumblers have a lifetime guarantee? They're pretty much the perfect product. I bought my brother a Bengals Big-T for his birthday. He was appreciative, but didn't realize its intense awesomeness for a few weeks. Then, one day, he called me to say "this thing is magical. I went to sleep for several hours. I awoke to find that none of the ice had melted in my drink." That's been my experience as well, even in sweltering summers like the one we're currently experiencing.

As we prepare for tailgate, the biggest question for me is: which Tervis Tumbler do I want to try out during the collegiate sale? I have several in the classic interlocking UK design. However, I do love the Wildcat pattern...

Image via Tervis Tumblers

Remember when this guy created such a stir, and had to be immediately redesigned? Yeah, that was uncomfortable. It's still a cute logo, though...

My absolute favorite, however, is the new Collegiate Vault pattern.

Image via Tervis Tumblers

It's the classic Seventies and Eighties logo that we all grew up with. J'adore.

The Tervis Tumbler collegiate promotion ends Friday, August 13th, which sounds a little ominous. Creepy dates notwithstanding, these will make your tailgate perfect.

Which pattern do y'all like best?

{This post is solely my personal opinion. The Kentucky Girls did not receive promotional consideration from Tervis Tumbler.}

Sunday Morning Roundup

2010-08-08T10:33:00.002-04:00

So, all that nasty business is over, and we'll hopefully never have to think of Porcini's again. If nothing else, all parties involved were guilty of bad judgment and even worse taste. It's time to focus, y'all. The first football game is only 27 days away, Fall Meet kicks off in 61 days, and basketball season isn't far behind. It's time to focus on the most important thing in the Bluegrass: our sports!

No news to report from Jenks or myself, so I thought we'd take a look at the events going on around us:

Jerry Tipton tells us that K-Fund boosters are outraged at the price increases for next season. The story includes a great quote from the darling husband of a dear friend of The Kentucky Girls; Lexington businessman Bill Morgan fears that the rate hike will force him to switch from Bud Light to water.
Matt Jones and the boys at KSR have pics of Tebow's awesome new haircut and a guest spot from the one guy from Cougartown. (Farrah Fath or Rebecca Gayheart, if either of you are reading, you're more than welcome to do the same...)
My buddy Scutch over at UK Football Fan gives us his predictions for the upcoming season. Personally, I haven't looked much farther than considering whether I should use my cousin-of-a-cousin connection to help me find tickets in Starkville, and hoping that the shiny new coach helps us end the streak on Rocky Top.
The Sun-Times continues its jihad against the basketball program. The guys at Sturgill Turner continue to send well-phrased letters in response.
Coach Cal reminded us all to wish Daniel Orton a happy birthday on Friday. Here's to a year of wisdom and maturity, Daniel. I most certainly hope this year treats you well.

Anybody take in Fan Day? What's on your mind?

HCW

Love and Basketball??

2010-08-05T21:53:00.002-04:00

{N.B.: My essay appears in the August 5th issue of Ace Weekly magazine. -- HCW}

Last Fall, I found myself in the ridiculously unenviable position of explaining the Pitino-Sypher affair to my grandmother. As I attempted to quietly explain that, due to the events that were unfolding at the time, my granny might want to keep her nostalgia for the Pitino years of Kentucky basketball to herself, I found solace only in the fact that the conversation was being conducted via telephone. There’s no way that I could have conducted that particular exchange in person without actually dying of embarrassment. Now, if you’ve never had to discuss the finer points of after-hours, Italian restaurant-based extramarital affairs with an 84 year-old Southern Lady who is proudly both a lifelong Methodist and a retired first grade teacher, I’d advise you to do everything within your power to keep it that way. There’s no way to acknowledge that you know the events that transpired without feeling prurient and trashy. You start to wish, harder than you’ve ever wished anything in your life, that you’d never read a newspaper or a sports blog. Your shell of hardened worldliness cracks quite easily, and you just wish you didn’t know anything about it. It would take a Silkwood shower to wash away the dirty feeling.

In the intervening months since that mortifying conversation occurred, I’ve found myself, time and again, in similarly awkward positions. I’ve kept myself informed as the sordid details about That Night in 2003 have come to light, but I haven’t really wanted to discuss them in polite company, lest I seem overly interested. I’ve racked my brain for sly jokes that would retain my street cred as the author of pithy Facebook statuses, but which would be suitable for viewing by my aunts and former Sunday School teachers. As I’ve learned about the charming way that Rick and Karen met, and the heartbreakingly beautiful love story that subsequently unfolded between Karen and Tim, I’ve tried to keep a jaded and sophisticated attitude about the entire business. We’re all adults here, I’ve tried to remind myself, this is neither the first nor the last time something like this has happened. Not in basketball, and most assuredly not in life. But, the truth is, a nasty and embarrassing business has unfolded in the Federal Courthouse in Jefferson County. We’re all being faced with stories we don’t quite want to hear.

Just when I thought that I had tackled the ick-factor of the entire affair once and for all, Rick himself took the witness stand and provided details about his personal habits that only his wife, his mistress, or his doctor should know. Instead, those details have been broadcast to the entire news-reading nation. Late last week, as I sat over coffee and donuts with my mother, the conversation naturally turned to the previous day’s testimony. There I was, in the Richmond Road Krispy Kreme, discussing our former coach’s “staying power” with my mama, as discreet a Christian lady as you’ll ever hope to meet. I was disconcerted, to say the least. Aside from my discomfort about the conversation at hand, however, I felt a profound sadness for the loss of a little chunk of my own childhood. I was a huge fan of the Pitino-era Wildcats; now that storied coach was reduced to the fodder of frathouse jokes.

No matter how questionably he’s conducted himself in recent years -- be it accepting a job at that school down the road or cavorting with short-skirted blondes -- Rick Pitino was a great coach who brought a desperately needed pride back to the Kentucky basketball program. No matter how hard I try to gloss over this fact, he was a hero of my youth. He brought a big city luster to our downtrodden program; he brought our team back to national prominence, and he did it in high style. Now, he’s the brunt of some of the basest jokes I’ve ever heard. Just search Twitter for the phrase “15 seconds”, and you’ll see what I mean.

The Sypher affair has embarrassed Wildcat and Cardinal fans alike with its messy details and cringe-inducing admissions. For many of us, it’s become increasingly difficult to maintain tasteful decorum while keeping ourselves informed about the sports events occurring in our basketball-mad state. There is simply no escaping the reports of Karen Sypher’s prior experience or Rick Pitino’s performance. At a time of the year when we should be concerning ourselves with incoming players and preseason projections, we are suddenly all extras in a particularly ribald Judd Apatow film. We laugh along with the raunchy jokes, but it is more an act of nervous discomfort than actual amusement. Deep down, as devoted Wildcat fans, we acknowledge that Pitino is part of our legendary past. We fear that, maybe a little, the joke is on us.

As this nasty business draws to an end, we find ourselves facing the uncomfortable fact that it won’t go away for a while. There will be more prurient analysis and vile jokes. As well-mannered Southerners and devout basketball fans, we are faced with the choice of either laughing along or ignoring the situation. Let’s just hope we don’t have to discuss it with our mamas again anytime soon.

The Day Mel Turpin Was Nice To Me....

2010-07-18T23:20:00.002-04:00

{N.B.: The original version of my essay appears in the 14 July issue of Ace Weekly. -- HCW}

The 1982-83 Kentucky Wildcats are the first basketball team I can remember.

When you grow up in a basketball family like I did, memories of your team are a part of the family lore. They become a part of the conversation, a way of establishing each member of the family along the team’s timeline—sort of a generational link to the team’s history. Memories of big games or favorite lineups are woven into the family history.

My father recalls being a high school basketball player in ’66, catching the infamous loss to Texas Western over his transistor radio. My brother claims that the Laettner stomp of ’92 is his earliest memory (perhaps a bit of revisionist history, but we’re willing to overlook it for the sake of a great story). My own very first memories of UK basketball include the names Dirk Minniefield, Kenny Walker, Bret Bearup, Dicky Beal, and Melvin Turpin. I was in the early weeks of second grade when Coach Hall’s team began their season with a revolutionary midnight practice session in Memorial Coliseum.

I can remember my daddy and granddaddy analyzing those players’ performance after every game. The conversation around me was so impassioned that it seemed quite important that I form my own opinions. My favorite player, I decided, was Melvin Turpin. Mel wasn’t my favorite because of the SEC scoring records he’d go on to break, but for a far simpler reason: he had a kind face. As a kid who was learning the rules of the game as well as what it meant to be a fan, I simply saw that this was a player that I could look up to.

Several years later, I had the privilege of sitting behind Mel during a UK game. My lower arena tickets at the UGA game were already a fantastic birthday present from my cousin. When we took those seats, however, that present became exponentially better. We were not only sitting behind a bona fide UK star, but behind my favorite player! My 20-something birthday celebration now included an appearance from Melvin Turpin!

Sitting behind the big guy was, perhaps, a little obstructive. He filled the seat in every imaginable sense. Not only was he too tall and too wide for the seat, but his personality filled up the surrounding rows. Everyone in the adjacent area was gawking at the sight of a star Wildcat alumnus. And, truth be told, it was hard to see around him. But, at halftime, I introduced myself by saying “I was a huge fan when I was a kid.” It more than made up for any missed viewing opportunities when Mel was gracious and humble and charming in response. He didn’t have to be so kind to the silly girls who wanted to talk about their own childhood memories of his college sports career. But he was kind, and he confirmed my earliest belief that he was someone to whom I could look up.

Over the years, I’ve had the opportunity to meet several Wildcats and to see many more play. I’ve met former players and those currently in uniform. I’ve encountered some players of my own age in social settings, and I’ve sat in Rupp Arena knowing that the player who just scored two points for our team would soon be taking his game to an impressive professional level. But my favorite UK basketball experience will always be the day Melvin Turpin was nice to me on my birthday.

Last Thursday, as I fulfilled an evening obligation, I attempted to surreptitiously check Twitter for a quick update on the LeBron James Media Circus. My feed brought me far sadder news, as I learned the Favorite Player of my youth had passed. In subsequent days, I have studiously avoided the blogosphere and the sports papers. I don’t want to read speculation into the details of Mel’s untimely demise, nor do I want to rehash his NBA years. I want to hold on to the simple memory that he was my favorite player. I want to remember the kind man who graciously accepted the ridiculous rants of a fan. I want to recall one of the sports legends of my youth.

Goodbye, Mel. You’ll be missed. And you’ll always be my very first favorite player.

What Are You Wearing for Opening Day?

2010-03-29T22:19:00.001-04:00

Opening Day is so close we can taste it, y'all.

Of course, readers of The Kentucky Girls don't need any help picking out a gorgeous ensemble for the races, but many other girls out there do.

Here are a few suggestions. I love these adorable grandstand print dresses from Lilly Pulitzer and these rose-gold flats from Tory Burch: understated, comfortable, and timeless. The flats are great for walking from parking to paddock, and don't forget a sweater for chilly breezes or Clubhouse tables!

The Five Types of Wildcat Fan

2010-03-08T09:46:00.003-05:00

{Reprinted from my article in the March 3 issue of Ace Weekly. - HCW}

It sure seems like we have a lot more fans wearing Wildcat Blue this year, y’all. Everyone wants a part of the hot, highly-ranked Kentucky Basketball team. Maybe Linda Ronstadt was right: everyone really does love a winner.

The newfound fan base was only to be expected; it’s a whole lot easier to root for a projected 1-seed than for an NIT participant. Still, it’s wildly frustrating for longtime fans when people whom we’ve never heard acknowledge the sport of basketball are suddenly proclaiming their UK fandom. We wonder where those same folks were last year, when we held an 8-8 conference record: can they produce proof that they were cheering for the Cats under those markedly less auspicious circumstances? We want digitally-stamped photographic proof that they were wearing Kentucky Blue last year, or their “support” doesn’t really count, we smugly proclaim.

What does it mean to be a Wildcat fan? Is it enough to only watch the high-profile Conference and Tournament games, or do we need to obsess over every play made in exhibition and early-season games? Is it enough to recognize the names and stats of our star players, or should we all vow to name our firstborn sons “DeMarcus”? It seems there are no hard-and-fast rules for the “appropriate level” of fandom. There are, it seems, a few archetypes that arise. These are the folks you see out and about on Game Day—in the Mall, at Rupp Arena, or anywhere fans can be seen. They’re the Five Types of Wildcat Fans, and are easily distinguished by attire, social networking habits, and general demeanor. We can all spot our friends, relatives, coworkers, and possibly ourselves in the habits of each of these fans.

Type One: The Light Blue Fan. The Light Blue Fan is only around when the Cats are winning. The fairest of fair-weather friends, The Light Blue Fan is decked out in Fayette Mall’s best brand-new sweatshirt purchased specially for the game. The Light Blue Fan reads Coach Cal’s missives on Facebook, and tries to catch the SportsCenter coverage of John Wall’s latest dunk. The Light Blue Fan will transfer all attention to the Lakers in time for the NBA Playoffs.

Type Two: The Krazy Kat. The Krazy Kat was born around the time that Winston Bennett graduated. Krazy Kats all claim to have sat beside Ashley in the Eruption Zone at least once, think that the game itinerary must always include a quick stop at Two Keys, and will most certainly not be making it in to that 8:30 class. They wear the latest game-specific t-shirts, and spend more time in line for student tickets than at the library. Their greatest dream in life is to replicate the fabled Euclid and Woodland incidents of ’96 and ’98. Krazy Kats don’t need to scour the Internet for news about the team; they each have class with at least two players.

Type Three: The Power Blue Fan. The Power Blue Fan spices up business casual attire with a Wildcat Blue tie or sweater, as game attendance is contingent upon leaving work on time. The Power Blue Fan’s enviable lower-level season tickets are a source of much hostility among other fans, who characterize them as the “Wine and Cheese crowd” or “Noble Martyrs”. Power Blue Fans are fanatic in their own right, voraciously reading the newspaper and blog coverage of the team. Power Blue Fans were too busy studying to be Krazy Kats in their youth, but secretly wish they’d rocked the facepaint just once.

Type Four: The True Blue Fan. The True Blue Fan is proudly a third- or fourth- generation Kentucky alumnus. The True Blue Fan claims to have attended every SEC Tournament for the past fifteen years, but conveniently omits the two years when he awoke too hungover to actually attend Sunday’s championship game. The True Blue Fan sports Wildcats sweatshirts from the early Nineties and has been overheard telling the Light Blue Fan that “if you have to ask where to buy UK gear, you don’t deserve to wear it.” Not content with mere premium membership on CoachCal.com, True Blue Fans have tracked down every media link to the team. Any True Blue Fan worth his salt can tell you that Bret Bearup tweets as @TheDenverKid.

Type Five: The Blue-Bedazzled Mamaw and the Big Blue Papaw. They drive in from Pikeville or LaGrange or other far corners to watch the game, and have been making the pilgrimage for forty years now. Mamaw is decked out in head-to-toe Wildcat garb, with at least one item in sparkly, bedazzled splendor, while Papaw’s wardrobe may include bib overalls or a Carhartt jacket along with his trusty UK baseball cap. Mamaw and Papaw know the rules of the game better than any ACC coach, yet are convinced that players on the opposing team walked or charged on every possession. They will call in to speak with Oscar Combs or Coach Calipari on the radio at least once this season.

While we may debate among ourselves about the “best” type of fan, there’s certainly room in Rupp’s 24,000 seats for all of us. Let’s hope that the team’s immense talent, paired with a little good fortune, keeps us wearing our preferred Wildcat Blue attire all the way to Indianapolis.

Catching up

2010-01-13T09:10:00.002-05:00

Hey y'all.

It's been way too long since we updated The Kentucky Girls, and I'm making a (13 days late) New Year's Resolution to blog more often. Because, you know, there's plenty to talk about in the Big Blue Nation these days.

In the meantime, here are some links to recent articles I've published about our teams in Ace Weekly: Paw Paw's Legacy and Lessons from the UL game.

In the meantime, are you our Facebook fan?? You should be.

Good Ole Rocky Top(less?)

2009-12-13T22:35:00.009-05:00

Honey, Hee Haw called. You need to be in by 8:00.

I guess y'all have heard about the little scandal brewing at Tennessee. Apparently somebody talked to the New York Times about an organized group of recruiting hos...tesses who get to know the football recruits and persuade them to come on over to Big Orange Nation. A Vol fan friend of mine showed me an article dispelling the rumor and proposing a conspiracy theory between the NYT writer and Florida coach, Urban Meyer. Either way, it's funny.

This all leads me to wonder why UT would need to resort to such tactics. They're a pretty strong, almost powerhouse, football program. And I wonder what other schools are using hostesses. Does Southern Cal have starlet wanna-bes out there ushering around football players? It would probably work. Do you think Kentucky basketball uses hostesses? I would hope we don't need to, but who knows?

I can tell you I never saw anybody resembling a hostess hanging around Wildcat Lodge. Girlfriends, sure. Chicks out in the parking lot? Dozens. If those girls were hand-picked by the athletic department, somebody needs to work on his talent evaluation.

Hey, wait! Maybe we were too quick to judge old Billy Clyde. Maybe that's what he was doing: auditioning hostesses. It's all becoming very clear.

Tebow...

2009-12-05T14:03:00.002-05:00

...Wears John Wall pajamas.

The Tim Tebow Drinking Game

2009-12-05T11:20:00.003-05:00

{N.B. I didn't write this, but I wish I had. HCW}

Although he's a great athlete, he IS from Florida....

* Drink every time Tebow is called "a warrior." Bonus chug if any of your friends sing the first two hours lines of Scandal's opus "I am a warrior" and change the lyrics to "Tebow is a warrior." Dance, Tebow, you magnificent bastard.

* Drink every time Tebow's called "a leader," then salute.

* Drink every time Tebow's called a "special athlete," then yell "Tiiiimmmmmmmmay!"

* Finish your drink if the announcers suggest Tebow should win the Heisman again this year.

* Drink every time Tebow points to the sky. Then realize the only reason the sky hasn't fallen is the strength of his pointing.

* Drink every time Tebow references God. Or himself.

* Drink every time he's shown on the sidelines flapping his arms like a bird (or an idiot) to pump up the crowd.

* If (when) Tebow actually takes flight, finish your drink and do a shot.

* Drink every time Tebow's on camera for no reason when the Florida defense is on the field.

* Drink every time Tebow is seen screaming with his helmet off.

* Drink every time they show a "I Heart Tebow" sign in the stands.

* Drink every time you see a Florida fan in jorts. (Small sips on this one. Otherwise it could kill you).

* Shot every time they mention his experience as missionary.

* If they mention him performing circumcisions in the Philippines while he was a missionary - Chug your beer, do a shot of Patron.

**When Alabama wins and Tebow gives a tearful speech in the post-game press conference, give the television the bird, turn up your bottle of Jim Beam, and don't stop drinking OR flipping off the TV till Tebow runs out of tears. (This may take several bottles of Jim) Then throw the empty bottle(s) through the television and quote the good book by saying "the Terrence Cody falls upon the just and the unjust alike!" Club a baby seal and start prepping for Texas.

Disclaimer: Playing the Tebow drinking game may will result in death. So don't do it. Ever. Not even in jest. The content above this disclaimer is a joke, not a suggestion. If you're dumb enough to do it, just pray Tebow is nearby. Only he can save you. Him or a local hospital with a stomach pump.

November images

2009-12-03T22:11:00.002-05:00

An Open Letter to Lane Kiffin

2009-11-29T23:01:00.006-05:00

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

2009-11-20T19:24:00.000-05:00

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

2009-09-27T15:21:00.002-04:00

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!

2009-09-05T12:54:00.000-04:00

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

2009-09-01T08:06:00.000-04:00

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)

2009-08-25T12:00:00.041-04:00

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...)

Thongs, Cash, and Vinny on the Floor

2009-08-15T15:25:00.002-04:00

Aah, the week that was in Louisville...I'm not sure when I've seen such a scandal. Ricky P. and trampy Karen divulge the info. Indignation ensues.

To be honest, I don't really care that much what Rick does. He disappointed me enough in 2001. Nothing he does can surprise me. Furthermore, I don't really understand all the shock. We've been hearing adultery rumors for years. The second-most-common one was that he knocked up the hostess at Porcini, which turned out to be pretty close.

For those of you who are unfamiliar with Louisville's newest tourist attraction, I'll describe. It's a very nice, relatively pricey Italian restaurant on Frankfort Ave. It has always been Rick's hangout. The owner, Tim Coury, sits behind the U of L bench at games. Porcini is very dimly lit. It has a bar area with booths in the back, and then a restaurant and patio. It is widely reputed as a place where young women can meet their Sugar Daddies and vice versa. I've actually seen that happen in my few visits there.

I'll tell you, the thing that shocks me most is that Tim Sypher agreed to marry Karen. She went to his house, his boss paid her off, he drove her to Cincy for an abortion, and then he thought she'd make a good wife? Bless, Tim.

Of course, the real victim in all this is Vinny Tatum. (You remember Vinny. He gave a eulogy at Mr. Keightley's funeral. Mr. Keightley called him "Pork Chop.") I think Pork Chop suffered enough when his floor nap was interrupted by "the sounds of two people enjoying a sexual encounter." Now his name is all over the papers. Vinny, you should have stayed a Wildcat, man.

Someone made a joke yesterday that Rick has a centipede following him. Shoes are dropping everywhere. We at thekentuckygirls will do our best to keep you in the loop.

In the police transcripts, Karen Sypher told exactly where the dirty deed took place. I'm quite upset, as I have sat in that back booth behind the bar. You know, where their stuff has been. Karen also recounted how the nasty took place without removing her underwear. "You know, them thongs are little, and you can just pull them over if you need to." TMI, Karen. TMI.

Am I the Only One...

2009-08-12T12:53:00.002-04:00

...who has had this song stuck in her head all day???

Can We All Just Say This Together?

2009-05-31T11:30:00.000-04:00

Cal-I-Perry.

Good.

Happy Birthday, Jenks!!!

2009-05-20T10:44:00.000-04:00

Hope you didn't use up all your birthday wishes on this year's recruiting class!

xoxo--

Dear Patrick Patterson--

2009-05-08T20:07:00.000-04:00

We're so glad you'll stay to play with us next year. I think it really is the best decision for you and for the team.

But, if you're reading this, sugar, I'd like to ask one favor of you extra-nicely. Please bring back the hair. I'm pretty sure it's the source of your powers.

xoxo--
h

Dear Eric Bledsoe,

2009-05-06T20:45:00.003-04:00

Welcome to the Big Blue Nation. I can't tell you how thrilled we are to have you! First stop, honey, interview classes.

Civility, How I Long for You...

2009-05-04T18:58:00.005-04:00

Okay, so am I alone in wishing that if a long-shot horse were going to win the Derby, it could have been D. Wayne's? Nothing against Mine That Bird. In fact, I probably should have paid more attention to him given his stellar pedigree. It's just that I'm a bit repulsed by that rude Chip Woolley.

I know, Chip, it must get old talking about the long drive from New Mexico, the reason you're on crutches, and the low price the owner paid for the horse. Here's the deal. It's a feel-good story. If you're going to be colorful, you'll have to ask questions. Deal with it, brother. You didn't hear Tom McCarthy snapping at anybody.

Oh, Hunter S. You Really Would Have Loved It

2009-05-03T20:19:00.016-04:00

(And I will borrow your style. I'm giving you credit...don't let your heirs sue me for plagiarism.)

Wednesday night. Mint juleps at the track. Socialites and red carpet. Mwah...mwah. You look beautiful. No, you, dahling. Who knew a blackberry mint julep was delicious? Super T gives violent pelvic thrusts from center stage. Women swoon. Men look under the skirts. All look to the sky in hopes that the rain stays away.

Thursday. Headache. Will we make it to the track? Food and strong medication. Joining the unwashed masses. Long hair and shirtless in the paddock. Our hats and flowers earn scathing glances. Jealousy or scorn. Hard to tell. Percy at the bar. The rude out-of-towner scolds Percy for being slow. "Excuse me, sir. Were you on the Sopranos?" No tickets cashed. No matter.

Thursday night. Seventh circle of Hell. Men who don't want us anymore. Men who are far too interested. Thankfully, men who give us drink tickets to soothe the pain. One woman who invites us to her party--"We need women. Single ones."

Friday. Kentucky Oaks. The rain stays away. Pink flowers and everyone showing up as gentry as far as the eye can see. People who can't play the part. MINT ju-LEP! Alan Cutler in the paddock. Not chasing anyone. Go, Baby, Go. Skies threaten. Golf carts beckon.

Derby Eve. Rain pours. Drive up the hill-please don't hit the Bentley. Don't let the limo hit me. People running in all directions. Where is the party? Beside the RV. In the kitchen. Opening wine. Wait. This man. Is wearing. A pink shirt-unbuttoned, a turf club pin, and nothing else. The man in Lily pants is unfazed. Try to stay cool. Tuxedos, hot pants, cowboy hats, Pentecostal church clothes, all in one place. A man with long flowing hair and a great belt "let's get naked and f@%$--decline. "Driving that train. High on cocaine." "Weep no more my lady." Heels off. Stepping on ice and wet shag carpet. Never miss this party again.

Derby Day. The sun shines bright. Not warm, though. Wardrobe adjustment. Mimosas, strawberries, cheese grits, mint juleps. Walk through the meshugas. Men with bull horns. Repent or you will perish. Or buy Mardi Gras beads. Either way. Up the escalator to rarefied air. Saul Smith. Into the box. Hat envy. 20 julep glasses. Box in front. Playboy wooing his Lily-clad date. Does she know? Do we care? No pulled pork nachos?! Lee Ann Rimes-hatless. Calvin Bo-rail!

So....

2009-04-30T09:30:00.002-04:00

...what is everybody wearing this weekend?

(Please humor me, I'm stuck in Tennessee this year, which is a lot like saying "I'm not allowed to celebrate Christmas this year...")

Congrats to the Newest Patriot!

2009-04-30T09:29:00.001-04:00

The Kentucky Girls congratulate Myron Pryor!

Congratulations!

2009-04-25T19:33:00.000-04:00

The Kentucky Girls congratulate Ole Miss OT Mike Oher, the newest Baltimore Raven!

It's always great to hear when SEC players succeed at a pro level, as it strengthens our conference. Mr. Oher and his family deserve all the success in the world!

Sorry, Rick

2009-04-19T00:49:00.005-04:00

This is what happens when your equipment manager's wife is not named Hazel Keightley. You asked for it.

I'm a Little Wildcat!

2009-04-18T10:58:00.000-04:00

LeBron James has publicly said that he wants his sons, LeBron Jr. and Bryce Maximus, aged 5 and 2, respectively, to play for Coach Cal, the Herald-Leader reported today. Jenks and I were cheering this decision on Facebook this morning. "The little James kids had better be good!" we joked...

I must admit, dear readers, that I started doing all kinds of mental gymnastics: in thirteen years, when little LeBron signs his LOI, I'll still be twenty-nine (I'm working on petitioning the state to have my birth year changed, but that's another story for another time -- I will be calling my state senator, hometown Circuit Court judge, and Congressman soon...), and hopefully my beau and I will be living in Chevy Chase and holding Season Tickets. Coach Cal will be 63, which according to the Herald article, is an older age than that at which he still wants to coach. We can work out the details, Cal, I thought. You'll want to stay on for this. Think about it. These are the children of perhaps the greatest player ever posted at the three position. Even if they only play at the level of Jeffrey Jordan or Luke Walton, then they'll bring in a wonderful media barrage that we'll need...

I'd like to say that there was more than a hint of irony in that little stream of consciousness exercise. But, truth be told, I was kind of serious. We want to believe that every recruiting year will result in the hottest blue-chip recruits wearing Wildcat Blue. Even a decade or more away. We dress our own little boys in blue and hang that creepy Wildcat Dreams print in their bedrooms in hope that they'll be fast enough, their shots perfect enough, their defensive game tough enough.... And we think it makes perfect sense that an NBA superstar would do just the same.

It's funny, really; even though we want kids -- from the biggest baller on the fourth grade playground to our own clumsy seersucker-sporting tykes -- to be indoctrinated at a young, young age, one of the first warning signs of the Coach Clyde era was the signing of an eighth grader. Not funny-haha. Funny-sad and pathetic. It just seemed creepy and predatory, as if BCG were one of those baby beauty pageant moms or the guy who writes unauthorized checks on his Nana's account. It just seemed like poor little Michael Avery was making plans that he could not possibly comprehend, that his parents were so negligent in allowing the situation to occur as to constitute child abuse, and that Gillispie was a huge schmuck with no sense of decency for setting the whole thing in motion. I wish Michael the best in whatever he does, even if it involves wearing those ridiculous clown-stripe warmup pants.

Another interesting aspect of LeBron's endorsement of Calipari as his sons' future coach is that he is implicitly saying that he wants his kids to play college basketball. From someone who, as an 18 year-old high schooler, was a first-round NBA draft pick, signed a $90 million Nike contract before he ever played a professional basketball game, and was the undisputed Rookie of the Year, these are powerful words. Now, I admit that, as a fanatic follower of college basketball, I'm going to draw that conclusion. I truly believe that kids should play college sports, and stay with their team as long as possible. I know that it's a hard, hard decision -- you have to strike while the iron's hot, you fear injury, etc. Still, college basketball has so many rewards beyond the financial -- learning from a coach rather than working for a boss, the invaluable education as a student, a player, and a person.... I could go on for ages. I like to think that LeBron is acknowledging that he was given a great talent and a great opportunity, but that he wants to plan for a little more stability and reality for his sons.

At any rate, I anxiously await the day when I can wear my James Jr. t-shirt at Midnight Madness...

*It just hit me that, even though I will still be twenty-nine in thirteen years, I'll need to claim to be forty so that I can become a sustainer, which is Junior League speak for becoming a retired, emeritus member -- the gals who get to come to events and drink wine without having to put in all the community project hours. I haven't worked through all the details yet, but I guess I have a decade in which to do so...

Blast from the Past

2009-04-16T18:16:00.000-04:00

The summer between my freshman and sophomore years of college, I was living on Transy's campus for summer school classes. My roommate for the summer was more an acquaintance than close friend, so I didn't know everything she was up to. She kept blowing off phone calls from the nicest boy. It got to the point that I felt really bad for the poor guy....

I lectured her one night. "That Tony guy has called a couple of times. He's super nice. Why haven't you called him?"

"Um, because he's a total baller," she replied. "It's Tony Delk."

Whether or not my then-roomie called him back, TD was a phenomenal player and a great guy. I'm thrilled to have first-rate basketball alumni like Tony and Scott Padgett joining the coaching staff. What a great way to honor the great tradition of Kentucky basketball! Good job, Coach Cal!

Dear Bruce Pearl,

2009-04-14T14:47:00.002-04:00

Please never,ever leave UT. Ever. That is all.

Thanks,
h

So close...

2009-04-13T01:06:00.001-04:00

What a heartbreaking moment for Kentucky sports fans at today's Masters Tournament. Kentucky Boy Kenny Perry was thisclose to becoming the oldest winner of a major.

We were rooting for you, Kenny!

R.I.P. Mike Casey, 1948-2009

2009-04-10T00:03:00.001-04:00

The Kentucky Girls extend their deepest condolences to the family, friends and fans of Wildcat legend Mike Casey. Mr. Casey passed away at Vanderbilt University Medical Center earlier today. He was Mr. Basketball in 1966, and is the ninth leading scorer in UK Men's Basketball history. Coach Rupp once said "Casey was the best money player I ever coached. When there was money on the table, you wanted Mike Casey to have the ball in his hands."

Former Coach Joe B. Hall said of Mr. Casey's passing, after a prolonged battle with heart failure,"We feel like it's a great loss to our Wildcat family ... We remember his courage and his fight. He carried on just the way he did on the floor."

Our heartfelt sympathy goes out to all who loved Mr. Casey.

POP!....hissss

2009-04-07T20:30:00.005-04:00

That's the sound of the air coming out of my Big Blue Balloon.

Come on, Jodie. Don't you want a nice long tournament run?

One More Year!!

Hats Off!

2009-04-07T12:51:00.003-04:00

No pressure, ladies, but Derby is 25 days away. Oaks is a mere 24! What kind of hat are you wearing to each?

Now, I lovelovelove the Derby Barbie . I have put out every hint, subliminal message, and all other conceivable methods of pouting that would convince the Easter Bunny, my mama, or my beau to have one waiting for me this Sunday morning. However, I find the replica hat to be a little gauche. For the price, I'd prefer a milliner's original. If y'all are still looking for a hat, I would suggest that you run on down to the Kentucky Museum of Art and Craft this week; their shop features many amazing one-of-a-kind creations. Derby weekend is no time to look like yet another cookie-cutter Barbie doll!

And, for the recessionistas, this Friday, April 9, the Museum is hosting a makeover event for your existing Derby hats. How fabulous is that? Working with an actual milliner to customize your hat for this year! The event is from 5-9 Friday evening after the Trolley Hop.

Once you get the most important aspect of your Derby weekend squared away, you can keep abreast of the field of contenders by following Derby Tweets at http://twitter.com/derbyoaks.

Quote of the Day

2009-04-06T15:32:00.002-04:00

From Kentucky Girl L., via email:

At least I won't have to talk to my therapist any more about why I feel so guilty when I don't want to expend the energy to do my hair in order to go to a basketball game. I would blow dry my hair twice to see a Coach Cal team.

Keeping Kentucky Girls pretty -- the legacy of the Coach Cal era!

And...

2009-04-06T11:51:00.001-04:00

...just like that, my horse is out . The tendon strain that caused the Pamplemousse to scratch in the Santa Anita is apparently keeping him out of Derby as well. Here's to a rapid recovery and a distinguished racing career for Pamplemousse.

I'm hearing good things about an early Bluegrass Stakes favorite, Terrain. He ran five furlongs in company at 1:01. Interesting.

Angel McCoughtry is Nice

2009-04-05T19:01:00.002-04:00

I know, blasphemy. These words are coming from the anti-Card herself. You may be wondering if I've had too many little hobbit glasses of ice wine.

I met Angel last summer during a little jaunt to Hoops to watch a team of former UK players take on some other semi-pro teams. (Does it really matter who the other teams were?) I got a little confused on my way to Hoops, as it required crossing into the 'burbs a bit and took a wrong turn. When I exited my car, emblazoned with a big blue K sticker, Angel McCoughtry stopped me in the parking lot and said, "I wanted to help you. I was afraid you were lost, and I thought you might be coming here."

I'll admit my jaw dropped a little. The first strike against me was the UK adorned car. Added to that, I was wearing a little skirt, ribbon flip-flops, and pearls. Not exactly an athlete-in-action headed for a day at Hoops was I.

I headed into the facility, where I was greeted by several courts, all filled with basketball players in various t-shirts. Where was my team, I wondered? I asked the young man working at the desk where I might find the three Kentucky players. Angel came to my rescue again. "I'll help you," she said and led me through Hoops. Shocked, I followed her to my designated court.

I'm watching right now as the Lady Cards take on Oklahoma in the Women's Final Four. I guess I should take a cue from Angel and set aside the silly state rivalry thing...oh, who am I kidding. But I do wish Angel all the best. Let's hope she's the first pick in the WNBA draft next week.

Tee Hee

2009-04-04T09:34:00.002-04:00

Link from an admitted Duke-hater (only my stupid software won't let me link. Sorry.)

http://www.sportspickle.com/features/volume8/2009-0401-curry.html

Enjoy!

Notes from the Mall...

2009-04-02T12:00:00.004-04:00

Does anyone else pick up herringbone items while shopping, then decide that only Bama girls can wear them now?

Don't Be That Girl

2009-04-01T22:09:00.004-04:00

Spring Meet is mere hours away, ladies. Right on cue, as soon as the first race starts (five minutes earlier this year!), That Girl will show up. And she won't go away.

You know the one. She's in college, or in her early twenties. She's wearing the newest, fanciest dress from Ann Taylor Loft or White House Black Market. She's all spaghetti straps and sandals, weather report be damned. She's had one too many at the Sports Bar. And she thinks she's adorable.

I always want to grab That Girl. Depending on my mood (and whether I'm winning), I either want to hug her or shake some sense into her. Either way, I want to give her some sisterly advice. Hopefully this blog can serve as a public forum to provide that advice to potential That Girls all over the Bluegrass. Here goes:

The first week of April in Kentucky is cold. It's generally during redbud winter. Cover yourself with a nice cardigan. That new sundress will be totally appropriate by Stakes.
If it's raining, cold or both, your sandals look silly.
I don't care what Stacy London says, don't wear white before Easter. It's preferable to hold off until after Derby, but Easter is the absolute earliest.
Don't order that last drink. You've had more than you think, and it's a long walk back to the car.

The track is a lovely place to spend the day, ladies. It isn't a frat party. Don't be That Girl.

The Tale of the Poorly Named Stapler

2009-04-01T15:33:00.004-04:00

I'm going to admit something to you, since we're all close friends and everything. It happened on a March day in 2007. It was a combination of too many Cokes in a can, packages of Smarties, and the blissful news that Christine Donovan was looking at horse farms in Lexington. My secretary presented me with a shiny new blue stapler. In a moment of glee I brandished a sharpie and artfully printed "Billy" on said stapler, surrounded by cute little paw prints.
Not surprisingly, Billy Donovan turned down the job. He had just won a National Championship. And really, does a basketball coach have time to raise horses? What was I thinking?
Luckily, UK chose to hire the next coach they could find named Billy, salvaging my stapler from horrible ruin. And so, for two years, my cute little stapler has been hanging out on my desk, doing his job admirably. He was once abducted for awhile by a Tennessee fan co-worker, who returned him promptly when I informed her of the origin of his name.
What to do now? Our state is in a budget crisis. I can hardly ask for a new stapler in the midst of staff cuts. Should I cover him with tape? Is it too much to hope that our new coach's name is "John Billy Calipari?" (I doubt it.) Do you think I could change the "B" to an "S" and make the name "Silly?" Please, any suggestions are welcome...

P.S. I'm not the only crazy person. Look at this t-shirt. (http://www.cafepress.com/shirtbag.372413782) The door lives on forever!!

Kentucky Girls Buzz

2009-03-31T19:29:00.001-04:00

Our friend Eric Patrick Marr over at Transform Lexington has some kind things to say about The Kentucky Girls :

take The Kentucky Girls for instance - what dudes in Kentucky don't just LOVE when our sisters are writing freely about UK sports, or what's going on in their (bizarre) female worlds? (We males certainly have never had ANY insight into that ever-mysterious universe...) What a great idea those girls had!

Eric's blog entry, Needed: Lexington's Next New Dimension describes Lexington's need for focused interactive Web 2.0 blogs that address the city's various interests and subcultures in a meaningful way. It's a great read, and a brilliant idea.

Thanks so much for the kind shoutout, Eric! We hope you keep reading our bizarre female perspectives!

h

My money's on the pink horse...

2009-03-30T17:45:00.007-04:00

With Derby only thirty-two days away, it's time to kick the ensemble planning into high gear. The hat selection in Louisville will get really sparse in another couple of weeks, so we need to plan, ladies!

I'm loving the early buzz on a three-year old named The Pamplemousse . Of course, we still have to see how the most important meet of the year (Keeneland in April) plays out before we can make our final predictions.

Still, how perfect would it be to be sitting at the track, wearing a dress inspired by a juice stand , and betting on a horse named for a grapefruit ?

It's almost enough to make me switch from juleps to mimosas. Almost.

H

Thoughts on the Six Million Dollar Man

2009-03-30T17:14:00.002-04:00

So, we did it. We let Billy G go after two short, embarrassing seasons.

Anyone with even the slightest ties to the Commonwealth has heard it all by now, and has offered his or her own analysis. In a year of economic hardship, it’s hard to resist the urge to pontificate on a scintillating real-life drama involving multi-million dollar buyouts and whispers of bad behavior. ESPN’s Jeff McGregor equates the money spent on Gillispiegate. My own mother, a sensible school administrator who has spent years disseminating state and federal funding in a financially-challenged school district, was aghast when she learned of the now-legendary buyout; she jokingly (I think) asked me if I felt guilty that previous anti-Gillispie articles I have published could have led to the University “wasting all that money.” Eyebrows have raised further amid rampant speculation that our new coach – Calipari or otherwise—will pull in Six Million Dollars A Year. Yes, you read that right.

Suddenly, everyone is a business lawyer and a basketball fan. Now, I live in a household where the former activity pays the bills, and the latter fuels our lifelong obsession. Needless to say, we have some pretty vehement opinions about the current situation. The phrase that we keep coming back to, however, is “you either get it or you don’t.”

We are poised to spend more money on a coach than most Commonwealth residents will see in their lifetimes. Any serious college sports fan can tell you that the source of this funding is not the actual University, but rather an elite group of boosters. The donors serve as the de facto Board of Directors at most universities, and the coach had better make damn sure that these folks are satisfied with his job performance. Still, it seems like a ton of money to throw after a single pursuit. In my own earlier Ace Weekly article, I noted that Billy Clyde’s Jessamine County house cost ten times the average house in that area. That is a crazy disparity at a time when Kentucky is facing a record-high unemployment rate.

Even with full knowledge of this disparity, how can I endorse my alma mater’s selection of the New Six Million Dollar Man? Well, the answer is simple. I want to win. I want a National Championship every couple of years. More importantly, though, as a born-and-bred Kentuckian, I have seen first-hand the intense level of happiness and interest and unity that the UK basketball program brings to the Commonwealth. In the hard-working, often impoverished areas of the state, our basketball program brings levity and pride. We love our Cats and we want them to win. Central Kentucky may have their recession-proof horse industry, but in areas where the coal has run dry, there isn’t a ton of interest in futurities and Derby preps. We don’t have professional sports teams with which to align ourselves; we root for the Reds and the Bengals, but they aren’t “ours.” The unifying pastime in nearly all our one hundred twenty counties is cheering on the Big Blue. We paint our barns, we wear the colors with pride, and we belong to the Big Blue Nation.

I’ve always been told that money can’t buy happiness. Here’s hoping that the relationship between the new coach and the Big Blue Nation will disprove that old adage.

HCW

What We Know

2009-03-30T14:56:00.002-04:00

Wow! A head-spinning week in the world of UK sports.

I'll admit it. I put my head in the sand concerning Billy for a long time. As long ago as June '07, people in the know were making warning sounds. Former players were talking about really good staff members who were gone, gone, gone from UK. No one was allowed in the building for practices or workouts. (Why wouldn't you want Chuck Hayes to work out with your team in the summer? Could it be he wouldn't approve of what he saw? I'm just sayin'.)
Being a single girl, I was initially intrigued by The Bachelor. But whenever I would ask, "Can I meet the new coach" my question was met with, "He doesn't like to meet people" or "You don't want to." Hmm.
But who wants to think the coach is a jerk? I finally met him. He was not unpleasant, just seemingly uncomfortable. I will say his eye contact was akin to what I imagine REM sleep to look like.
The tales of this year have sent me over the edge. I will not listen to anyone who says Billy was fired for wins and losses. Sure, he would still be here if we were 30-3. It's just that I don't think we were ever going to get there. From what I understand--and the information is from people who know--our players were leaving if he stayed. Winning wasn't coming. His treatment of our players wasn't anything we should desire for a boy wearing a Kentucky uniform. I will not stand for it.
Now...moving on. Megan Calipari's facebook status says: "My dad never said anything bad about the people of Memphis. Please show him the same respect." Take that for what you will. I'm not sure about JC. I love all the winning. And the Pitino rivalry. I'm a little worried about this Worldwide Wes character. Sandy Bell will have her hands full. (Just google ole Wes. I don't have the words to explain him. He's a sports agent close to Calipari. Sketchy.)
We should know something today. If not John Calipari, then we'll move on. Do we wait for Tom Izzo, or did his win yesterday cement his stay in East Lansing? The drama!!

RIP, Alysheba

2009-03-29T11:20:00.002-04:00

The Kentucky Girls extend their deepest sympathies at the passing of 1987 Derby winner Alysheba.

Get Well Soon!

2009-03-24T21:20:00.001-04:00

The Kentucky Girls send their thoughts and prayers to former Wildcat Mike Casey, Mr. Basketball 1966. Mr. Casey is in critical condition at Vanderbilt Medical Center following a heart procedure.

Get Well Soon!

We're All a Little Mad in March

2009-03-22T20:57:00.003-04:00

March 21, 2004: Sitting in my new apartment on a rare break from my fancy new job, I’ve never felt so alone. I’ve only moved 70 miles away from the town I love so very much, but the unfamiliar faces and brusque attitudes I encounter make it seem like 7,000; I blame that damned red bird, a symbol that all is not as it should be. On this cold Sunday afternoon, I attempt to recreate my grandmother’s fried chicken recipe. My team is playing some no-name school, Alabama somebody, of whom I’ve never heard. The chicken starts to scorch. I fiddle with the kitchen window to release the smoky smell. I return to watching the game. Somehow, this nobody school has surprised my beloved team. We’re beaten out before the Sweet Sixteen. The forlorn grey sky is suddenly peppered with huge, aimless snowflakes that wander through the open window into my little kitchen. I start to cry. It wasn’t supposed to be this way.

March Madness means different things to different people. To office administrators across the nation, it means lost productivity and illegal use of the copier. To bored girlfriends and wives, it means the one month out of twelve in which date nights are positively out of the question. To casual sports fans, it’s a chance to cheer on an alma mater and match wits in the office bracket. It’s a slick marketing term, popularized by Brent Musburger, for college basketball tournaments, particularly the NCAA D-I Men’s tournament. But to diehard basketball fans, March Madness is far more than just a tournament; it’s an obsessive disease worthy of classification in the DSM-IV. We all go a little mad in March.

Maybe it’s because I grew up in a basketball family, or maybe it’s because I’m from the notoriously basketball-mad state of Kentucky. Whatever the reason, I find that so many of the most poignant memories of my life tend to revolve around March.

There’s March 1992, the game that makes every drop of Kentucky-blue blood run cold; Christian Laettner’s heartbreaking double play of chest-crushing and buzzer-beating in the Elite Eight that sealed Duke’s overtime victory. I can still hear my little brother, six years old at the time, furiously arguing that the ball didn’t leave Laettner’s hands until after the buzzer (a position he still maintains at 23…).

The following March, Kentucky’s appearance in the Final Four was far overshadowed by events in my own life. Early that month, my beloved grandfather, a retired basketball coach himself, passed away after a brief but devastating illness. A few weeks later, my beautiful cousin Hannah was born; as I grieved the loss of one of my personal heroes, I learned a profound lesson about the way life and love are replenished in our lives.

A few Marches later, in 1996, I was a college junior. After Kentucky’s National Championship win, only the second in my lifetime, I chose to remain in the dorm and put the finishing touches on my Political Theory paper rather than accompany my roommate and her boyfriend to the post-victory bedlam of downtown Lexington. At the time, I was more focused on Dean’s List and grad school applications than the Big Blue party around me; I will forever regret that decision. Two years later, I refused to miss the National Championship celebration a second time. I was going through a difficult time in my own life, unhappy with my graduate studies and concerned for an ailing relative. As my friends and I walked through the jubilant crowd, watching strangers exchange hugs and high-fives in celebration and comradery, I experienced a levity that assured me that, at least for this magical night, my own situation was going to work out for the best.

As a young professional in the early 2000s, I studied my workplaces’ attitudes toward office brackets in order to learn about my co-workers. I was amazed when my first workplace, staffed with women from Northern states, didn’t observe the March holidays. I later moved on to larger offices and more traditional observances, and even learned to tastefully acknowledge co-workers’ and clients’ allegiance to teams that opposed my own.

In recent years, as I’ve moved farther and farther away from home, March Madness has come to symbolize a time for reconnecting with old friends; my family and friends, as well as the people with whom I’ve worked and matriculated, discuss our brackets electronically as we watch the games. We Facebook every foul, Twitter every free throw, and text at every time out. It’s a time for remembering the collective great Marches of our past, cheering on the teams in the present, and anticipating the next great March.

It’s a great time to be mad.

When You're a Celebrity (Give me a break, BCG)

2009-03-19T18:25:00.001-04:00

I was driving across Southeastern Kentucky late last week, listening to radio coverage of the Friday the Thirteenth massacre, when I first heard Coach Gillispie’s claim that he was unaware that the Head Coach position at the University of Kentucky included a public figure component and that, as such, his private life was off limits. Billy Clyde even claimed, according to radio stalwarts Dave Baker and Oscar Combs, that Athletic Director Mitch Barnhart never mentioned a public figure role during the interview process. Two minutes later, when Dave and Oscar cut to commercial, Gillispie himself came on the radio with a PSA.

A Public-freaking-Service-Announcement. In which he identified himself as “Coach Billy Gillispie,” then told all of us Kentucky fans to not drink and drive.

Hmm…someone who uses his position of influence and visibility to tens of thousands of people in order to sway public opinion. Sounds a lot to me like a public figure.
As early as November 2007, a few brief months into Gillispie’s coaching tenure, the Courier-Journal quoted UK’s then-media director Scott Stricklin as saying that the coach had been inundated with media requests, and had already lent his endorsement to at least a dozen print, radio, and television ads. Stricklin went on to tell the Courier that this “rock star” status is part of the UK coaching job.

Gillispie has since endorsed cars, restaurants, and countless other local businesses, again using his local celebrity to influence our tastes and brand preferences. He even told WKYT this fall that he didn’t mind living in the “spotlight” under which Kentucky fans placed him. He’s a “rock star,” is paid handsomely for celebrity endorsements, and lives in the spotlight, but he doesn’t consider himself a public figure?

The 8.7 percent of the Kentucky workforce that were unemployed in January 2009 were certainly not in the position to perform celebrity endorsements. Nor were most other Kentuckians holding an education degree similar to that which Coach Gillispie possesses; while those folks were earning a median income of $30,000, Gillispie was purchasing a 12,000 square-foot Jessamine County home for $1.45 million dollars.
(The median home price in Jessamine County is in the mid-$200,000 range, and most Jessamine homes have never been profiled in the Herald’s Living section).

The Head Coach’s life is one of luxury, celebrity and opportunity that is unimaginable to few residents of the Commonwealth.

Coach Gillispie has certainly enjoyed job perks and financial remuneration unimaginable to the average Kentuckian.

By the very nature of his job and lifestyle, he will receive a public figure’s level of media scrutiny.

To argue otherwise is petulant and ridiculous.

The “I’m not a role model” argument was tiresome when NBA star Charles Barkley made that famous proclamation in the early ‘90s. Barkley, with his unapologetic bad behavior, was not entrusted with mentoring and coaching college students, nor was his salary provided by a public land-grant university. Coach Gillispie, on the other hand, through the very act of accepting the Kentucky coaching position, assumed the life of a public figure. By continuing the tradition of the Kentucky Coach’s countless media endorsements, he has further promoted his own brand as a public figure affiliated with the University. As alumni and taxpayers, it is well within our rights to consider how Coach Gillispie’s personal behavior impacts our team members as well as the University’s image.

I don’t necessarily count myself among the Kentucky fans who are rushing for Coach Gillispie’s beheading — uh, I mean termination.

Building a style of play is a lengthy process. Further, every team goes through slumps. If he does remain with Kentucky for another season, however, Coach Gillispie does owe all of us — the taxpayers, alumni and fans for whom he is a celebrity — the common courtesy of acknowledging the tremendous influence which his job entails.
Say it with me, Billy Clyde. You are a public figure.

Now, play nice with the media.

I wrote this essay for Ace Weekly magazine in Lex; it appears in the current week's print edition as well as the Ace Blog.

h

Breaking News

2009-03-19T18:07:00.003-04:00

WLKY in Louisville filmed a photo op of Terrance Williams during a shoot-around as U of L prepared for their game tomorrow against Morehead. Williams (or T-Will, as he would like to be called) leaned forward and said, "This is for my boy, Ron Mercer. '96 Champions. '97 Runner-Ups." Then he tapped on the camera for emphasis.
Now, I know there has to be some confusion, what with all the UK switcheroos going on over there, but, Terrance, honey, we aren't supposed to like each other. And let me make this very clear. Jodie Meeks, if you give a shout-out to LaBradford Smith, there will be hell to pay!!
Go Toppers! Go Eagles! Go Oklahoma State!!

A Change of Heart

2009-03-16T01:03:00.002-04:00

I spent the first half of this day in a really bad mood.

I was heartbroken, disappointed, and very, very angry because my Wildcats weren’t going to the NCAA tournament. It’s the first time in eighteen years! I raged. Back in the good old days, when I was in college, we were winning national championships! Tony Delk was kicking ass, then asking for my friends’ phone numbers. As I made a six-hour roadtrip through the most rural parts of Kentucky, often without the luxury of cell or radio signal, I became more and more flustered. I rattled off statistics. I thought of the “golden era”. I cursed that damnable “other” school who pulled off a one-seed. I was nauseated and fighting back tears.

Then, mercifully, I was able to catch a quick look at my mobile Facebook. A lady from my hometown – a family friend whose son plays for UK—had her status set to a cheery, supportive message about a good NIT draw, and how she loves her baby. With smiley faces and exclamation points, no less. I have never been more embarrassed at my own petulance and self-absorption. The realization hit me like a ton of bricks: These are kids. Kids like my little brother who is en route to Spring Break. Kids who are working their butts off at what amounts to a physical-labor job while getting an education. When I was their age, I was juggling school with the oh-so-taxing demands of boyfriends and sorority meetings. My successes and failures were neither nationally televised nor captured forever on YouTube. How would I feel if every mistake I made was parsed and re-hashed by hundreds of thousands of complete strangers?

So, Big Blue Friends, I ask you all to remember that every kid on that team is someone’s baby. Someone’s grandson. Someone’s boyfriend. Thirty years from now, they will be telling their kids about how it felt to play a big game, just like my own daddy did this weekend when he and I were talking about the crazy schedule Syracuse had faced, and he recounted a rough three-overtime game his own college team once played. The coaching staff and other members of the Athletic Department are well-compensated individuals who are accountable for their own professional successes and failures. The players are kids who have provided us with countless hours of entertainment. They deserve our respect and loyalty and support. In all their post-season play.

Go Big Blue!!!

The Five Stages of Wildcat Grief...

2009-03-13T23:53:00.001-04:00

disbelief, rage, heartbreak, remorse, and bourbon.

Tomorrow Morning....

2009-03-11T10:16:00.001-04:00

Tomorrow morning, at an inhumane hour, I'm putting my beau on a plane bound for Tampa...

Here's hoping he and his buddies bring the Cats some much-needed luck!!

Thank you, Jared Carter

2009-03-03T21:57:00.003-05:00

On the eve of Senior Night, I'd like to express my thanks to Jared Carter in appreciation for four years of hard work and dedication to UK basketball. I've always been of the opinion that Kentucky needs a Kentucky boy to maintain a sense of tradition, an understanding of the pride of program. No matter what one might say of Jared's contributions to the team, he has been able to consistently provide that element. We need the guy who knows the Cawood of the court, who is still mad at Christian Laettner, who understands why it is so wrong to see Pitino at the other end of the bench, who pretended to be Mashburn, or Sheppard, or Prince in his backyard. Thank you, Jared, for sticking it out, and maintaining the Kentucky pride on the Kentucky team. Now Darius can carry the torch.
It can't be easy---playing on a UK team that isn't winning at the expected pace. You find yourself the object of scorn and taunt during your meal at Applebees (or O'Charleys if you're Jared.) Your mom gets the repeated question, "When will he transfer?" during every errand. I'm sure Jared's mother is far more gracious than I am. The response, "When will your son graduate/get a job/go to rehab?" sits too readily on the tip of my tongue. Jared, you deserve the praise and applause of the Big Blue Nation for living your dream and contributing in the ways you were asked. We will miss you.

I Don't Want To Talk About It

2009-02-25T22:08:00.002-05:00

Ever.

Does Anyone Else...

2009-02-22T14:15:00.001-05:00

...turn on the Independent Spirit Awards and automatically have to mention "Do you remember the year Ashley wore a UK t-shirt to this event?

Or is it just me?? ;)

Oh for Memorial

2009-02-16T14:07:00.003-05:00

I'm not allowed to go to the Vandy game--at least not in Nashville. The Cats are winless at Memorial Gym when I am in attendance. I might as well walk around breaking mirrors under ladders and refusing to forward email chains as to show up in that funky gym. For real.
My first little venture occurred in high school during the probation years. We had unusually good tickets--my mom's friend was related to the athletic director (or something.) It was still dark. That gym is a cavern. (And I will persist in calling it a gym. Not stadium. Not arena. Gym.) I watched as Pitino was ejected from the game, trailing his sport coat and flaming ire in his wake. The Cats lost.
As my ticket-procuring ability increased, so did my losing streak. We lost on Josh Carrier's 21st birthday. We lost after prank phone calls to Kelenna Azubuike's hotel room (pretty sneaky, Vandy kids.) We lost after my poor mother practically needed stitches from a nasty scrape on the bleachers. We lost after a cat-fight between a current NBA girlfriend and a Vandy fan. The Vandy fan was tossed from the game; the girlfriend got to stay. I guess the usher didn't think a little bitty girl could be that much trouble. He was sorely mistaken.
I'll be watching from home this year. Hopefully this will mean good luck for our Cats.

Sidebar: since I'll be at home, I can watch the ever-growing Gillispie/Edwards fireworks. I think he is nervous after being rude the first time and is terrified of inserting his foot further into his mouth. Of course, that just makes things worse. Perhaps Jeanine should give him the question before the game so he can practice. Or she could just interview Kevin Stallings. Either way, Billy must shape up. It's quite embarrassing.

Word of the Day

2009-02-11T09:23:00.021-05:00

Big Blue Hangover [big blü haŋ-ˌō-vər] n: A feeling of exhaustion resulting from the previous night's long-running, emotionally draining UK game. "I'm totally useless at work today; I stayed up too late watching that crazy Kentucky-Florida game, and am suffering from a total Big Blue Hangover."
©2009, The Gorgeous Ellen W.

Coach Knight to Georgia??

2009-02-02T17:58:00.004-05:00

Media outlets all over the country are reporting that, if offered, the General Robert Montgomery Knight would take the head coaching job at the University of Georgia.

What?? Bobby Knight in the SEC?? Can you see it? I can only imagine the post-game interview. He'd insult a reporter and be challenged to take it outside. I'm really surprised he made it in Texas.

Don't get me wrong. The thought does not have me shaking in my big blue wellies. I'd like to see it. We need some more entertainment around these parts. I loved how Bobby could be brought to tears of anger by the mere chant of "Hoosier Daddy." And although I'm sure the Dawgs could pull out some wins under his reins, he didn't exactly bring Texas Tech to prominence. We can take it.

Come on, Bobby. Bring your act South. Billy needs somebody to deflect attention from his recent bad interview manners...sheesh.

Snow Day

2009-01-29T14:20:00.032-05:00

Wednesday morning, my beau and I were conducting the postmortem on the Mississippi State disaster. We'd discussed the usual things: Do we rely too heavily on Meeks? What could our offense have done differently?, etc. Then, out of the blue, my beau made a brilliant point -- Maybe our team, just like everyone else in Lexington, was taking a Snow Day.

In some parts of the country, snow is measured in feet and temps in minuses. These hardy folks go on to school and work regardless of winter conditions. Other places see no more than cold rain. In the Upper-South, however, we see a debilitating storm every four to five years. Nobody has school, or power, or reason to do anything but drink bourbon and stay inside. Maybe, my better half reasoned, our players were simply responding to the weather, the lack of classes, and the change in routine in the same way that any other 18-23 year-old college student would: they get a little sluggish, maybe stay up too late, spend too much time hanging out, or they go to that awesome looking midnight cookie van that parks in front of the bookstore. They are kids, no matter how many expectations we place on them. I know that the few Snow Days of my college career were spent doing anything but working...

Let's give our boys the Snow Day that everyone else took on Tuesday, and look toward a win against Carolina this weekend. Hopefully Lexington will be thawed out by then...

The other team's coach is always funny...

2009-01-29T14:05:00.004-05:00

In the SEC, the Coach and His Wife are celebrities. Their home is always profiled in the Design section of the local paper. Their clothing choices are discussed by the local news. They provide so much fodder for gossip -- my great-uncle, who was living in Lexington in the Fifties, swears that the Rupp-Bryant Cadillac/Gold Watch story was known all over town to be true at the time, and I won't even address all those tacky Rick-at-4th-Street-Live! sightings that are whispered all over town. It's like each SEC state has their own little Brangelina, and we're almost as excited to run into Mr. and Mrs. Coach as we would be to see the real Brangelina.

With this kind of celebrity attached to the coaching staff, it's no wonder that we can't stop laughing at the Kennedys' plight. Even if they shut down our offense this week, Accused Bigot Andy and No Nookie Kimber are funny, for no other reason than that they confirm every John Grisham stereotype of sleazy, incompetant Mississippi jurisprudence. Plus, I never tire of the saying that our friends over at KSR coined: "You know what else isn't easy? Andy Kennedy's wife."

My beau recently brought home his copy of the Tennessee Bar Journal, with an equally giggle-inducing story about our favorite orange-tinted coach. It seems that Bruce Pearl's ex-wife, Kim Shrigley, recently opened up a Knoxville beauty salon, aptly named Alimony, which offers a 15% discount to all clients who receive alimony payments. No word on their self-tanner treatments, or whether clients who look like Erin Andrews are charged double.

Click here to watch a video about Ms. Shrigley's awesome new business.

Deal-breakers

2009-01-28T00:17:00.050-05:00

When it became apparent that my beau was The One, my little eighty-something grandmother started making plans to make a quilt for him. Now, in addition to all the time and effort that quilt requires, it also means that someone is part of the family. So, my granny was asking a few questions to make sure she made just the right thing: "Well, he lives in Louisville. Does he want a U of L quilt?"

I tried (and, I'm sure, failed) to conceal the look of disgust and horror on my face: "Oh, now you know better than that. There's no way I could date a Louisville fan."

My grandmother laughed it off and assured me that I was exaggerating. Y'all know I wasn't. I know that, for me, the thought of spending the next forty or fifty years with license plates and porch flags proclaiming that "House Divided" foolishness is, like Charlotte York's bad-kisser date, a deal-breaker. I need someone who understand why I throw up a little when I see Rick Pitino out in a Louisville restaurant. Besides, my granddaddy, Lord rest his soul, would roll over in his grave if I were to bring home a Card fan or a Volunteer. And I can't even imagine how my daddy would take it if I were involved with a Dukie or a Tarheel -- in fact, the whole ACC would get me disowned, with the possible exception of a Wolfpack fan, because Jimmy V. was a great man.

All joking aside, I've never been seriously involved with someone who wasn't a UK fan. I think it would be so very difficult to relax around someone who didn't appreciate Kentucky sports, the SEC or, worse still, college basketball in general. I guess I've always taken my team so seriously that I've envisioned a scenario in which my potential suitor was lost, like the poor girl who dates Colin Firth in Fever Pitch. And I know that my continually hating on a guy's team would most likely send him running.

Fortunately, I don't have to worry about that.

So, girls, how about y'all? Could you date a guy who isn't a UK fan??

A Twelve-Year-Old and Ramon Harris

2009-01-25T18:56:00.002-05:00

I just heard the good news that Ramon is doing well since his return to Lexington. What a tough year for him, and we appreciate all the heart that he shows in every game. Our thoughts and prayers are with him.
I watched the game with my cousin Dylan yesterday. I'm sure all of you were taken aback as we were when you heard the news that a Kentucky player had collapsed at halftime. I doubt many people outside the program took the news as hard as Dylan.
A synopsis:

"Who? Who is it? It's Patrick Patterson. I don't see him." (We found Patterson.)
"Where's Gillispie? We can't play without Gillispie. A team cannot take the floor without the head coach unless he's been ejected. It's in the rules." (Pretty sure that's not a rule.)
"Who's that guy? Does he know how to coach?" (Jeremy Cox)
"What's that guy saying? I don't know him." (Glenn Cyprien)
"Oh, we'll lose now. We'll lose to Alabama. Noooo." (1st minute)
"There's Gillispie. Who's going to the hospital with Ramon? Is his mama there? What hospital is he going to?" (I just don't know. Probably not--she lives in Alaska. University?)
"That referee cheats! Just like the referee in my game!" (True.)
"I walked like that, and they didn't call it." (Good work, D. Very Sneaky)
"What's Josh's last name? What's Josh's last name? What's Josh's last name?" (Always Harrellson)
"When I tackled James like that it was a foul." (Well, yes, you shouldn't tackle in basketball.)
"I thought Ronald Steele was out." (rinse, repeat. That's his brother.)
"Eww, he threw up." (Poor Ramon)

Thoughts and Prayers

2009-01-24T17:30:00.001-05:00

The Kentucky Girls send our thoughts and best wishes to Ramon Harris. Hope you feel better soon!

The Night in Recaps...

2009-01-22T01:22:00.000-05:00

It was a rather lackluster game. I'm not going to insult your intelligence; it was messy and we should not have let Auburn get so close. Instead, I'll leave you with a night's worth of Facebook status messages:

Note: all times CST.

6:30 p.m. -- H is cheering for the Cats and the Knights. [Rutgers]
7:30 p.m. -- H hates when the forces of Satan prevail. [Louisville and Florida both were leading]
7:57 p.m. -- H is Go Cocks!
8:23 p.m. -- H is watching the UK game... Well, as much as one can watch this muddy RayCom feed.
8:43 p.m. -- H is thinking UK needs to pull themselves together. We're better than this.
9:33 p.m. -- H hates this game.
10:01 p.m. -- H has many things to say about this game, none of which are fit to be published online. Seriously, y'all. I think I've embarassed [my beau] with my obscenities...

Y'all get the drift. At least it's a W.

Where Were You When Jodie Meeks Broke Dan Issel's Scoring Record?

2009-01-21T23:26:00.008-05:00

Kentucky basketball is all about records. Seven National Championships. Thirteen Final Four Appearances. Forty-three regular season conference titles and twenty-five Conference tourney titles. We learn these stats as small children, the way other kids learn their ABCs or their numbers. I guess there's something about all those retired jerseys and championship banners hanging from the rafters that just makes us expect more of the same. Sometimes, the statistics seem a little convoluted (e.g., 694 straight games with at least one successful three-point goal). Last Wednesday night, however, we saw a record-breaking statistic that was truly historic: Jodie Meeks scored 54 points in a single game, breaking the great Dan Issel's record.

Now, there are some arguments to be made that the scoring records of these two great players truly aren't equivalent. The game was so different back in Issel's day; it was offense-driven and all field goals were for two points. And they wore those crazy shorts. On the other hand, the present sport is driven by hostile defense and larger, quicker players. Whether or not 53 points in 1970-points falls short of 54 points in 2009-points Meeks put on an incredible performance. Fifty-four points are an amazing amount to score in a college basketball game. This feat will will surely solidify Meeks' place in the pantheon of great Kentucky players.

As the sportscasters began to speculate that Meeks was nearing Issel's record, there was an exciting feeling among Big Blue fans that we were witnessing Kentucky basketball history. I thought of my dad's often-told story of listening to the 1966 Championship game on the radio: "It doesn't matter how Hollywood depicts it. We lost because Larry Conley had the flu that night. We didn't have a full team of well players." I realized that, sometime in the future, my beau and I will have a similar story for our own kids: "This player must be amazing to beat Jodie Meeks' record. I can remember watching it on our old big-screen HDTV, which was 'cutting-edge' back then. We were actually living in Rocky Top at the time, which made us cheer against Tennessee that much more..."

It may not have been in groovy Issel-style shorts, but it was a historic feat of athleticism. Bravo, Jodie.

Oh, Kimber

2009-01-17T08:48:00.005-05:00

Kimber, let's talk. I know I don't know you, but things that aren't my business never really stopped me before. I'll admit, I've never been in your shoes. My husband, the head basketball coach at Ole Miss, has never been arrested for slapping and shouting racial slurs at a Cinncinnati cab driver. (Charges dropped, defamation of character suit in process.) I really hate it that this has apparently affected your love live. But, did you really want me, a snarky girl in Kentucky, to know this?

Kimber, honey, when you filed your little lawsuit against the cabdriver alleging that he's ruined your, um, sex life, the whole country found out about it. You look so cute and classy in your little picture. Did you think about the consequences?

Food for thought: Times are tough. Until just a few weeks ago, gas has been expensive. I'll bet this cab driver has not been making the kind of money that will pay for your a) therapy or b) divorce settlement. I can picture it. You'll show up in your darling Lily ensemble (I know you will. You're an Ole Miss girl now. You must be precious.) That judge will not have sympathy.

Second thought--I picked this up on KSR, no social plagiarism--road trips in the SEC will be hell for you now. The blogosphere is teeming with this story. You should read the headlines! I'm too much of a lady to quote them; but, Kimber, they are not pretty. And that Andy, he looks like he'd be a blusher.

Here's what I'd do. Drop the lawsuit. Vengeance will not be your's. And for the love of whatever you call holy, do not go to Mississippi State!

(Writer's note: for some reason, I cannot post a link. Go to Deadspin and enter the keyword Kimber Kennedy. Prepare to laugh and laugh!)

When Jodie Meeks Does A Push-Up...

2009-01-14T00:04:00.003-05:00

He isn't pushing himself up. He's pushing the Earth down.

Great, fantastic, unforgettable game, Jodie. You thanked your teammates. We thank you.

The Thompson-Boling Incident

2009-01-12T21:36:00.001-05:00

You know, I never really considered Tennessee a rival. The gap in football was just too big. It's hard to get all riled up over a 40-point loss. Consider it a very cold cocktail party in jeans. And I just couldn't take the basketball Vols seriously. I watched the Cats beat them by 80 one time. They would win the occasional game, but they could easily be swatted away like those little gnats that swarm around if you leave the fruit tray out too long. I understand the frustration of my Eastern Kentucky friends--a Vol fan will trash talk. In Glasgow I was never privy to that particular experience. I knew Louisville fans and the one Indiana fan (Nemesis. Pure evil in a maillot swimsuit.) The Vols just never figured in.
All that changed on one February night, 2006. The Vols had picked up a flamboyant, smelly, outspoken new Yankee coach, a 2-seed the previous year (still couldn't make the Elite Eight), and a win in Rupp. Something about that Rupp win was like a bite from a vampire for the fanbase that I encountered. It erased years of things like tradition, records, championships...
We sat in our traditional away game nosebleed seats. In Thompson-Boling that means looking at the back of the Women's Banners. The game was close. At halftime I needed a Coke. While making my way to the concession stand I was grabbed by ten beefy digits.
"You're a Kentucky fan! What are you doing here?" the man exclaimed too closely in my face. I replied that I was looking for championship banners, but I hadn't been able to find any. A few more steps and a Ralph Lauren orange-checked clad gentleman proclaimed, "I think I'll come up there and watch y'all in the NIT." Nice. "Great," I answered, "We haven't been since 1979. We could use your experience." A few more heckles and gropes and I made my way back to my treacherous perch. What kind of gentleman trashtalks a girl in heels? Must be pretty insecure about his team. Oh, yeah. He's a Tennessee basketball fan.
The Cats battled. They fought. And then...one held ball, one fouled Joe Crawford, two free throws, one famous chest bump. Karma's a bitch.

I'm always homesick on Game Day....

2009-01-10T16:35:00.003-05:00

Next month will mark five years since I left Lexington. The cities where I've subsequently lived have offered many fine amenities -- the fantastic dining of Louisville's Bardstown Road, the wonderful shopping in Nashville (seriously, there are both a Louis and a Tiffany in the mall)-- but they just aren't home. Most days, I consider Lexington an adorable college town where I spent a happy decade. On Game Day, however, Lexington -- more specifically Rupp Arena -- is the only place I want to be, no matter where I physically am.

In many ways, watching televised games from home is preferable. I mean, my beau and I have a 60-inch HDTV and a home theater system. We can sit on the couch in our sweats, drink a glass of wine, pet the dog and watch the game without having to worry about parking spots or obnoxious seatmates or bad tickets. There aren't lines to the restroom. We can order an entire pizza for the price of a reheated Papa John's slice at the game. If the telecast is on ESPN, then the quality of the HD signal is so high that we can actually pick out our friends from their lower-arena seats. But it isn't always a strong ESPN-HD feed; more often it's a muddy Raycom broadcast or "VER--neLundquist"'s oddly phrased announcing on CBS. Seeing our friends on TV isn't the same as running into them in the Hyatt lobby. And those $6 watered-down Cokes are pretty damn good in their Rupp Arena plastic cups.

Of all the sights at a UK basketball game, though, the thing I miss the most are my very favorite fans: the Mamaws and Papaws. You know the ones: the 70- and 80- somethings who have driven up from the more rural counties in their head-to-to Wildcat gear and can call the game with more alacrity and accuracy than most D1 coaching staffs. They may look like they should be on an oxygen tank, but they are quite spry and nimble as they mimic double-dribble, traveling or possession. They have loved this team for a lifetime, and are thrilled to be watching from their upper-arena seats. They've lived through the championships and the scandals, the best coach (Rupp) and the worst (that Sutton fella); they can recall the lineups of the past and are always optimistic about next year's recruits.

Today, I'm watching from home and dreaming of the Bluegrass. I only make it home a few times a year now and find the familiar (coconut chicken fingers from DeSha's or Sawyer's incomparable cheeseburgers) increasingly juxtaposed with the new (the CentrePointe hole has left McCarthy's looking naked, exposed, and embarassingly respectable, and there seem to be a whole new set of bars and lunch joints springing up to accommodate the denizens of the new courthouses). I now live in a city where people are more excited to see Keith-and-Nicole at the movies than Anita Madden at Dudley's. A dubious athlete sighting isn't the age-old conundrum of "am I honored to sit behind Mel Turpin or do I want to sit behind someone short so I can actually see the game?"; rather, it's "was that a Titan in the Bentley at the last red light?"

I'll take Anita and Mel any day.

Time for a Little Revenge

2009-01-10T10:03:00.002-05:00

I don't like to remember. It's embarrassing. A 41-point loss to (cough) Vandy last year? I'm really at a loss for words.
Anyway, I read a preview at kentuckysportsradio, and I really can't top it. Go there. They make a little reference to Vandy as the "Commodorks." Awesome!
Go Cats! Please!

2009-01-03T20:13:00.004-05:00

For those of you who don't know me, this is what I look like.

Rivalry: (n) competition--Webster

the need to compete against in every aspect of life, someone who is going for the same goal as you are--Urban Dictionary

"It's, like, another team that you don't like very much."--the majority of children when asked to define the word on IQ tests.

Today's the day, brothers and sisters. For an entire year we will be able to smile smugly or hang our heads in defeat. Needless to say, we have the ultimate trump card. Louisville would be trying to win with Larry Eustachy if our freakin' coach didn't have to come back to Kentucky. But Pitino isn't the Party-on-Euclid Pitino anymore and those days appear to be over.

It isn't the Louisville player that bothers me nowadays. I'm sure if I met, say, Andre McGee in line at Qdoba, he'd be a very pleasant sort. Not like the days of Milt Wagner, who called Drexel "one of them academic schools." And I'm very fond of my Louisville fan friends. I wish them well in all of their other endeavors. I just never want them to win in any athletic pursuit. Cool?

No, it's all the little things that just send me over the edge. Take, for example, the lyesreport, where some dude named Crash Craddock cited benching Rajon Rondo as a reason for hating Kentucky. I heart you, Rajon. It's none of your beeswax, Crash. The lyesreport (classy name, btw) also made use of the derogatory term for Kentucky fans--Kayuts. Reminds me of all the Yankee vacationing golfers who used to visit Barren River State Park and ask me how to get to number ten tee, then make fun of me when I answered. Look, ten=tin. The word does not sound like tan. Makes me want to kick someone in the shins. Go Kayuts!

I don't remember much about the original Dream Game. It happened really quickly. They found out they would play on Thursday and played on Saturday. I do remember losing. I was in third grade, and I don't think I knew the University of Louisville had a basketball team. Did I ever find out! The uproar that ensued was fierce and furious. Kentucky and Louisville played twice when I was in fourth grade, and the matter was discussed everywhere. From prime-time television to the playground, from my grandparents' dinner table to the Governor's desk, the Cardinals and Cats were a matter of great debate. Glasgow gets cable television from Louisville, so I got to hear Denny Crum flap his opinionated jaws about racism ad nausem. It was frightening for a little girl who grew up outside the shadow of segregation.

Happy Valley Elementary embraced the furor wholeheartedly. We chose teams for everything based on team loyalty. Games of dodgeball and Red Rover, Red Rover were based on UK and U of L. I watched with furrowed brow as children I thought I knew chose to compete for Louisville (gasp) in math races. I then hurried home to practice my long division!

My favorite Dream Game occurred on 12-18-2004. The phone rang on Friday afternoon. "Do you want tickets for tomorrow?" (Do I want oxygen and plasma?) We arrived at Freedom Hall and waited in line with a childhood friend to pick up our tickets. The friend is a mammoth human being who played semi-pro football for a time and is a Louisville fan. Diminutive, steel-spined Sandy Bell handed over the tickets. She said to our friend, "You'll need to give me that (Louisville) hat." He looked at her quizzically and gave her the hat. She added, "And I'm going to ask you not to cheer. We get precious few of these tickets. These people do not want to listen to you." The massive man looked at her mutely. Silent he remained until his hat was returned to him after the game.

We went to our seats in the Freedom Hall rafters. We watched as our Cats fell further and further behind, trailing by 16 points at halftime. We listened as some hilljack called out "That's why I hate you, Carrier!" when Josh made a mistake. We endured a cacophony of halftime "music" we had never heard before.

Then the impossible happened. The Cats made a comeback. With 0.000001 seconds on the clock, Patrick Sparks drew a foul from Ellis Myles. (Billy Packer said Patrick walked, which made Patrick really mad and caused a little scene later on in the year.) Patrick iced three free throws. The Cats won by two. There was nothing Ricky and friends could do about it (hee, hee!) The hilljack congratulated Michelle Sparks. I told him it was nice of him to say something to Patrick's mom, but he probably really offended Josh's. I think I made him uncomfortable...

We journeyed to the court to wait for the team. There I spied the sign I had been viewing all day: Popcorn--$3.00, Tickets--$300, 3 wins in row over Kentucky--priceless. How I wanted that sign! It would be booty for Brandon's war chest. But I knew it could not be, as it was hanging from a railing far, far away. As I discussed this, a Freedom Hall security guard overheard my plight. He said "I'm a Kentucky fan. I'll get it for you." What are the chances in all the world that a member of the Committee of 101 would ever do that??

Oh, Kayuts by ten ;)

For Whom the (Liberty) Bell Tolls

2009-01-03T10:04:00.002-05:00

Can you believe it? A third straight bowl victory? After years of taking pictures of the scoreboard while the Cats were winning because I knew it wouldn't last, we've actually started winning games.
I watched the game at Jack's, which means I spent equal time talking to the girls, listening to the people around me, enjoying my Poinsettia and pot roast, and actually watching the game. I did notice that 1) You always hear about how it's so important to go to a bowl because of the extra practice time. I guess that's true. Sometime between Thanksgiving and New Year's, some of our receivers learned to catch the ball occasionally. Remarkable really. 2) Ventrell Jenkins knocked that guy's mouthpiece out of his head. I want to hire him as my hitman!
I learned something else at Jacks. Surrounding me were Louisville fans yelling, "Go Cards." This was silly, considering they didn't make a bowl game. If we are not playing I will never yell, "Go Cats." I will either cheer for the other team or be quiet, so as not to look stupid.
In other news, did you all watch Georgia's game? I learned the origin of Knowshon Moreno's name, something that has always perplexed me. (It's a combo of his parents' names, btw.) With that knowledge safely tucked away, he can now leave the SEC, thanks. The winner of the Capital One Mascot Challenge was also announced. It was Cy, the Iowa State Cyclone, which is a cardinal. I know! I don't get it, either. He should look like a tornado, a gray funnel with bits of trash stuck in him. Whatev.
I'll be back tomorrow with tales of Dream Games past. Until then...

Little Wildcat

2009-01-02T17:54:00.004-05:00

Cheering on his team!!

Stuck Inside of Nashville with Those Memphis Blues Again

2009-01-02T16:57:00.002-05:00

So, I'm clearly not in Memphis for the Liberty Bowl today. With all due respect, gentle readers, I would be finishing the last beverage and finding my seat rather than blogging if I were there. Alas, my beau needed to go in the office today, and ticket prices were exorbitent, so I'm home wearing all the Big Blue gear and dreaming of Memphis. In the spirit of the event, however, I've compiled a list of all my favorite Memphis things:

Barbecue! The famous Rendezvous is unparalled in its smoky goodness. Be prepared for simplicity -- the only beer they serve is Michelob and they don't allow substitutions on their side items-- and bring an appetite!
Texas de Brazil. Yes, it's a chain and has nothing to do specifically with Memphis, but the food is unbelievable. It's a Brazilian-style churrascaria steakhouse; I don't speak Portuguese, but I think this translates to "big-@$$ed fillets and chops delivered to your table."
Stax and Sun. Whether your musical tastes run to soul or rockabilly, these historic record labels were a tremendous influence on most every artist recording today.
Graceland. Seriously, the Jungle Room alone is worth the trip.
The hotels. The Peabody is known for its beautiful, historic decor, its rooftop bar, and its famous duck march. I prefer the Beale Street Westin for more modernist luxury (including an oversized steam-shower and a bed that wowed even this Sleep Number enthusiast) and its pet-friendly policy -- not hard to imagine that my Little Wildcat (a Black Lab) wasn't welcome around the Peabody's ducks...
Beale Street. Yep, it's gotten so commercial that there's a Hard Rock. In fact, there's a strong argument to be made that Beale Street is now as authentic to the Memphis experience as 4th Street is to Louisville. Still, you have to stay downtown and you have to go out on Beale. It's the law of visiting Memphis. I recommend the Beale Street Tap Room; it's more laid-back with a jam band feel and plenty of brews on tap -- far fewer frat boys than Silky's and the like.
The shopping. I didn't take in the shopping I wanted on my last Memphis weekend, but you can bet your Big Blue fanny that my next trip will include trips to the Pottery Barn outlet and the Vineyard Vines store.

Dreaming of Memphis and cheering for the Cats--

h