My bedroom, when I was in elementary school, was a basic square room approximately 15 feet by 15 feet. I had white wallpaper with blue pinstripes on the lower half of the wall topped off with a blue chair rail that put a perfect blue line in the middle of my walls to separate the top half from the bottom. The upper half of the wall was a simple white paint but around the top of the wall, just below the ceiling was my Kentucky Wildcats border. It had logos, of course, with "Kentucky Wildcats" in the traditional Kentucky font written in blue letters for the world to see. My bed was adorned with white pillows with UK logos all over them accented subtly by Kentucky blue pillows. Mom made me curtains with the same fabric as the pillows so that in case anyone was confused who my favorite team was, the curtains would set them straight. I had an autographed Travis Ford poster that my Uncle Robert had gotten for me that was my pride possession. For some reason I was always inspired by a short white guy that could play ball. Anyways, to finish off my first man cave, I had a hat signed by several of "The Unforgettables" and a picture with former UK basketball greats that hung proudly on the wall as you entered my room. Last but not least, was my Kentucky Wildcats trashcan. This was the perfect accent to the room albeit a very ironic yet fitting piece to my story.
It was March 28, 1992 and Kentucky was matched up against Duke in the East regional game of the NCAA tournament. I was outfitted head to toe in my Kentucky gear. Those of you who know me well know that I still feel the need to help my team win by wearing officially licensed merchandise on gamedays. I can't remember exactly what I had on, but I venture to say that my shorts, shirt, and hat matched and were all sending good vibes to the team through our television set. I don't recall any specifics of the first 39 minutes of the game other than I was as happy as I could be sitting there with my dad yelling at the refs and cheering "Come on 'Cats!!" like I had seen him do so many times. Every time he got upset or excited I felt myself invest more into this team that had taken over 1/8 of our house. My memory comes back to me in the last minute of overtime, sadly. As the clock ticked down to 2.1 seconds remaining Kentucky led 103-102 but Duke was inbounding the ball underneath the UK goal. My heart was beating as fast as I ever could remember it beating. I could not wait to add another pillow to my bed or hat to my collection after this win! In only 2.1 seconds we were going to have beaten Grant Hill and Duke. Although the next 2.1 seconds of that game changed that team from Grant Hill's Duke team to someone else's.
Grant Hill threw the ball in like an outfielder trying to keep the winning run from crossing the plate in the bottom of the ninth inning. A perfect strike into the hands of Christian Laettner, a cocky tall white kid that looks like he should be playing water polo not college basketball. Laettner catches the ball around the free through line, turns, shoots...
"Did that shot really go in?!", I said to myself as I felt a rush of emotions that I still to this day cannot fully describe. Christian Laettner had just hit "the shot" that is still shown on tV far too many times every March as the tournament approaches. I was shocked, angry, sad, my heart was still racing so I was a bit nervous, panicked, and worst of all this was the end! I wasn't ready for this Kentucky team to never play together again. Perhaps my combination of Kentucky gear wasn't the right choice for this game, had I caused them to lose?! I was in a fury. I was crying at this point, inconsolable. "I hate them!!!" I screamed at the TV and searching for answers. I ran to my Kentucky shrined bedroom and searched for my boyscout flint stick so that I could burn everything in my room but opting for a quicker solution I took off my gear and threw it in my Kentucky trashcan, along with any other items that had anything to do with Kentucky and weren't attached to anything. I marched my 10 year old self, hands around a metal can full of all my favorite things from the "Kentucky Korner" and headed out to the trashcan outside. I remember vaguely dad watching me but letting me go for a while, probably laughing until finally he decided that it was time. This is the first true recollection I have of my dad's fatherly advice. He looked at me and said, "Son, it's just a game."
I still to this day have to repeat that to myself when one of my teams ends their season. But its that memory that takes me back to the first time dad put things into perspective for me. To me then it wasn't just a game but to see that my dad was okay with the outcome eventually put me at ease. I still having trouble sleeping after some losses but realize that there is always hope in next season. Each year that passes by I try to appreciate the present a bit more. I waste far too much time worrying about things that don't matter. I am thankful that my dad allowed me to realize that it was just a game and that I shouldn't worry so much about things in this life as I should in where this life will lead me. Eternal life will be so much more rewarding than any Kentucky basketball win ever could be. Don't get me wrong though, I still picture my Heaven as a place where Christian Laettner airballs that shot and Kentucky never loses another game.
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