It’s fair to say that I have a conflicted relationship with UK Basketball. Most of the time, I’d say my attitude is “tolerant”. Living in Lexington for 10 years and in Kentucky for nearly 32, the Cats are an inescapable part of life. I’ve learned that everyone from the so-called “good ol’ boys” to the cashier at Kroger will quickly assess a new acquaintance by the response given to “How ‘bout them Cats?” and despite my native Kentuckian status, I’ve yet to figure out a good reply.
As with most things athletic, basketball doesn’t interest me. It’s a lot of back and forth with precious little change of scenery. I’m baffled when I hear people use words like “thrilling” and “exciting” when describing a game. The little bit of “March Madness” I’ve seen this year held my attention for about a minute. In that time, I found myself being irritated by the melodramatic falls/attempted fouls and wondering why only 3 seconds had ticked off the play clock.
My indifference can easily lean towards disdain. It’s easy to be annoyed by people who are evangelical about something that doesn’t show up on my radar, especially given the fervency that UK fans are known for. I think we can all agree that our Cats are in fact wild and maybe a little feral. Sometimes I just long for some of that energy to be put to what seems to my disinterested mind, a better purpose.
However, I’ve grown up in Eastern Kentucky and realize that sometimes the boys in the blue jerseys are about the only hope that pops up in a given year for some. For a state that’s bottom of the list in just about every metric, our state school’s basketball performance gives some a reason to thump their chest, raise their chin and paint the truck nuts blue and white. I usually can’t bring myself to begrudge someone their source of happiness if it is, by and large harmless.
And that’s what’s so sad about last night. It stopped being harmless. By now, we’ve all heard of the commotion on State Street, the overturned cars, the fires and the vandalism. I learned of it in seeming real time through Twitter while walking down Woodland Avenue. Something about the electricity in the air compelled even my unconcerned self to walk down and join the celebrating masses. And while my visit was more about rubbernecking than revelry, I also had a general sense of “good for you guys”.
My two companions and I started the night with a general amusement when I read the reports of sofa fires. We all knew they were coming and so it didn’t seem to be a big deal. (Also, if one of you can explain this phenomenon to me, I’ll gladly buy your dinner). By the time we’d made it to Woodland and Euclid, the party was going full blast and it seemed a contained chaos. In contrast, the tweets kept rolling in about fires, pepper gas, overturned cars and SWAT teams from the other side of campus.
It didn’t and doesn’t seem possible. I know we’re rabid fans, but the inconsistency between a celebration and a riot doesn’t add up. How do you go from one to the other? How does overturning a car show your enthusiasm for a basketball victory? How does vandalism express joy?
I know these fans are the minority. Most people in this town and in the state raised their respective glasses, then tucked themselves in with a smile on their face. They’ll spend this morning whispering about this or that play over a pew or maybe make a cup of coffee and pop an aspirin. But it seems like this majority might need to sit down and have a heart to heart with the minority.
I made a drive around campus early this morning and saw that just about everything looked normal. There was no evidence of last night’s throng at Woodland and Euclid. Limestone only had the occasional, errant beer bottle, no worse than any other Saturday night near campus. What really stung was when I drove down State Street and saw the litter, the remnants of various fires and the WHAS news van with a camera set up. Because it wasn’t the Cats victory or the literal thousands of peaceful fans getting broadcast back to Louisville; it was this. The debauchery and destruction is how the story is being framed outside of Lexington, not the “we showed ‘em who’s best” line that I think most fans would have preferred.
So, we’re down to one final game. I’m told it’s a game that most believe UK has a damned good shot of winning. I won’t feel hard at my friends or at my city for taking to the streets in celebration. Even if I don’t understand it, I’ll likely even raise a glass of Kentucky Ale with them, because whether I like it or not, I love this city and the Cats are a large part of it. But, when the Cats bring home a national title and the nation’s eyes are on our little patch of bluegrass, this time, can we maybe show a little class?
Let’s realize that our city and UK itself will be in the spotlight and let’s show people what an amazing place this is. I can’t imagine it’s easy to be proud of your team, but not proud of how your city and fans are portrayed.
I have no delusion that everyone on Limestone is going to hold hands and sing “My Old Kentucky Home,” but maybe when this next gathering happens we can leave the matches at home and overturn a stereotype instead.
