BIG BLUE NATION

March 13-14, 2004

KElvis: No SEC tourney is complete without Kelvis, and his sidekick. Not sure of the sidekick's name, he's always wearing sweats and backboard/basketball headgear. It's pretty lame as far as a sidekick goes, but I guess that's what good sidekicks do: look lame so the main man looks even better. Kelvis' status and notoriety enable him to snag the finest seats every year, and I'm guessing he hasn't paid for a beer in like...ten years. If Kelvis had tits (and judging by the plate of wings and potato skins I saw him attack at Jocks n' Jill’s in Catlanta, it looks like he's working on a pair), he'd get my vote BKFE (Best Kentucky Fan Ever). Sorry Ashley. Crapula Populi: Latin for "Drunk people" give or take some conjugation. But we in the Wildcat Nation don't fret much over conjugation, unless that conjugation is coupled with a visit. Or is that 'conjugal'? Eh, who cares? The SEC tournament is spring training for the Kentucky Derby. Spent that last $20 for a lapper at the Paradise Palace and got no funds for the Bud King Kan? No problem. Borrow some money from a fan and promise to return the solid at the Kentucky Derby Infield. There are no wimps in the Nation, just Wimpys: "I'll gladly get you drunk in May for a bender today." Don't I Know You (Player Version)?: There is no better spot to randomly run into ex-Kentucky greats...and not-so greats. Personally, I love the not-so greats. The Antoine Walkers and Jamal Mashburns are fantastic, but give me the scrub who set the pick so the walk-on from Perry County, Kentucky could get the only lay-up of his college career (It's this same reasoning that my favorite celeb moment in New York was sitting next to Kenny Banya on the uptown N train). This year's treats were perennial benchwarmer Chris Harrison and 1998 Final Four MVP - but NBA flameout - Jeff Sheppard (pictured). Chris looked like he was chasing a cocktail of coke and crystal meth with two Red Bulls at the bar. Never seen a guy more on edge. Jeff, grin on his face, was just staring at some guy throwing KY t-shirts off a RV in a parking lot, happy as a Kentucky clam. Don't I Know You (Pedestrian Version)?: No matter the city, you're bound to run into a long, lost buddy (in some cases, lost for a reason). Two years ago, I ran into some high school friends randomly at Frietzel's, a Bourbon Street bar, at beer o'clock in the morning. Doing what one does at that hour, we broke out the shots and belted out a mean rendition of the high school fight song. Our voices competed with the house Dixieland band for the crowd's attention, which was apparently a no-no. Two bouncers, four spilled domestic beers, and a ripped, ribbed t-shirt later, we ended up out on the street and gamely finished up the last verse. This year, there was no scuffle or singing, but the random friend sighting was in effect. In a random Buckhead bar, I ran across Doug, a college buddy who was so tickled to see me, I could've sworn I saw a tear (Note: he blamed the 'dusty bar'). Anyway, over shots we traded fat-ass insults ('looks like you're smuggling a canned ham in the back of those jeans...oh...snap!') and reminisced about all the girls I never hooked up with in college. Appallingly Great Apparel: Ever wonder who bought all those Zubaz pants? We did. The Pitino Era was fantastic on so many levels: exciting play, resurrection of the program, national championships, you name it. But unfortunately, it came with a price: some of the worst uniforms ever in college basketball. Uniforms designed to look like denim? Sure. Uniforms with big blue isosceles triangles all over them? Check. It was a catastrophe perpetrated by Pitino and Converse that was only forgivable because of the on-court success. Nike was brought in with Tubby in the late '90s to clean things up a bit, and that they did, but that never transferred to fan apparel. And for that I am grateful. The team on the court should always look respectable. The team in the stands should never. Kentucky fans are still caught up in a sea of puffy Starter jackets, un-minimalist t-shirts, ill-fitting high tops, leather baseball hats, etc... Scalp Him!: Only one thing pisses off the Nation more than scalpers: Louisville fans. Scalpers are everywhere. UofL fans are, predictably, nowhere to be seen...unless...a couple of friends get so bombed by 4 pm that they decide to play a trick on a friend. In what had to be one of the funniest moments I can remember...EVER, this guy's 'friends' put a UofL hat on him when he passed out at Paddy O'Touchdowns. He awoke a few hours later and walked out of the bar with the UofL hat on. Immediately he starts getting hassled. He thinks that people are yelling at him to get some "Cards Suck!" chants going. Eventually, with UofL hat on head, he leads the chants, much to everyone's (save his friends) surprise. Look at him in the photo - he's pie-eyed and barely being held up. Classic. (Also notice the double-fisting of Bud King Kans, equally as classic.) County Caller: Ask anybody where they are from and you'll usually get a city name. Ask any Kentucky fan where they're from and you'll get the county. Maybe it's because Kentucky has so many counties relative to its size. Maybe its because there aren't many big cities in Kentucky. Who knows? But there is nothing so reassuring than being in a bar, seeing someone getting a slap on the back and hearty "Where you from?", followed by some random county name. Stupid, I know. But sometimes it's the random, stupid things that are so reassuring. I hollered at these byrds to see where they were from. I couldn't hear their answer, but they screamed that they loved them some horsies. I'm guessing Fayette...no Woodford Co. Big Blue Blanket: We all had that lil' blankie that we carried around and slept with well into our teen years, right? No? Just me and Linus? Oh. Well, my mom 'lost' my blanket in the wash in high school, but every March I seem to find it at the SEC tourney, and each year it grows in size. This year, my lil' blue blankie was about 20,000 people big. Kentucky fans always make up at least 60% of the entire crowd at tourney games. This year in Catlanta, we scalped our seats from some Vanderbilt professor. He warned us that we'd be in 'enemy territory.' Yeeah. So sure enough, we make our way to our seats in enemy territory only to be surrounded by Kentucky fans. Like drifters from the High Plains of Kentucky, we paint the town the blue and then burn it to the ground...bitch. Old Man, Look At My Life...: I'm a lot like you. It's not just the youth who keep it rowdy and real in the Big Blue Nation. You're just as likely to see a septuagenarian mix it up with his replica shorts and pom-pom, as you are a Chi O. I think we had to take this photo twice. The first incarnation was interrupted by a call on the old man's self-proclaimed 'crotchcaller' (see it?). It was touching. At least for my brother, who actually tried to answer the call. (Note: Nobody but this guy has ever worn the #30 in Kentucky history.)