A few months ago I wrote a little post about University of Kentucky fans and their bizarre love of Kentucky t-shirts
. Much to my utter dismay, a Kentucky fan site
linked to the post and was very complimentary. The guy thought it was funny. I didn't know how to react.
Don't these Kentucky fans know they're supposed to be utterly humorless when it comes to their basketball team? And where was the usual bile directed at all Louisville fans? Hell, the blog's author didn't even refer to me as a sideways-hat-wearin' hood rat or the gutter-nappin' son of a crack whore.
And to make matters worse, the blog is well-written and no more illogical than any other blog devoted to a single sports program (including the programs I like). Oh, the hatred for the University of Louisville is there, but it's a "They're insignificant peons to be mocked in a condesending tone" hatred rather than the "Please God let them all die like sinners in shit" hatred that dominates other Kentucky sites. It's a hatred that harkens back to a simpler time; like a package of Pepperidge Farm Milanos, only instead of cookies the package is full of hate. I can live with that.
In honor of the people at A Sea of Blue who begrudgingly tolerate the fact that I was even born, I offer this story of a Louisville-Kentucky basketball game played in late 1987.
I was watching the game in the home of my old friend Dan. He and his family were Kentucky fans, but I went straight into the belly of the beast because there was a huge spread of food, including Dan's mom's homemade chili. I would gladly endure the taunts of the UK faithful for some of that chili.
What I didn't count on was Dan's brother, by far my least favorite member of the family, wearing his ugly-ass Kentucky cowboy hat. It was an oversized novelty cowboy hat with a god damn white 'K' on it. What's worse than a city boy wearing a cowboy hat? A city boy wearing a giant University of Kentucky cowboy hat. No amount of chili was worth looking at such a visual terror-fuck.
As Kentucky's lead grew to 16 points, Dan's brother cheered loudly. And whenever he cheered and jumped around the brim of his insipid hat would flop downward and make what I believe was the sound of every soul that ever ended up in hell, all screaming in unison a cry of utter despair.
I could take no more. "God, I hate your fucking hat," I said to him, which was a mistake because it just made him get up and do some sort of victory dance in my personal space.
Out of deperation I said "Don't count Louisville out of this one. They're coming back." I didn't really believe it.
"You wanna bet?" was his brilliant retort.
I thought for a second. "If Kentucky wins I'll give you five dollars."
He agreed. After all, his team was up by a double-digit margin. But I had an addendum:
"IF LOUISVILLE WINS I GET TO SHIT IN YOUR HAT."
"If Kentucky blows this lead on their home court I get to shit in your hat. I get to use your hat as a toilet." Not my finest moment, but this was college basketball, man. I wasn't thinking straight.
He wasn't going to agree to it at first, but peer pressure swayed him. His family convinced him it was easy money.
As the game went on, Louisville cut into the margin. I reacted by stuffing my face with chili, chili dogs, and chili nachos. I was building up to take an epic dump in that dreadful hat. Finally, with mere seconds left, Louisville took a one-point lead. I was fully prepared to drop the deadliest of dueces inside that headwear abomination.
"Does anyone have an auxilary UK hat in case I fill that one up?" I asked no one in particular.
Unfortunately, Kentucky had the ball and one last chance. They missed a shot, but some guy named Cedric Jenkins, who was scoreless up to that point, tipped the ball in at the buzzer for a Kentucky victory. I forlornly handed over the five dollars and headed to the restroom to relieve myself like an actual human being, sitting on an actual toilet.
For those of you who are judging me for wanting to defecate in a hat...really, you didn't see this hat.