The day started out pretty normal, I had to work, of course. But as soon I stepped out of the door of the bank and free for the weekend, my wheels were rolling toward Lexington. I stopped to pick up Auntie Char in London, my road trip buddy. We take off from time to time and disappear for a few hours, or a day or so. We laugh and reminisce and rock out to our favorite hits from the 70s. Yes, I said 70s. That may be hard for some of you to believe, but if you know me at all, you know I don't discriminate against much music, and the 70s produced some of my favorite songs.
We were almost to Rupp Arena, and early I might add, as it was somewhere around 2:30 and the game started at 4:00, when I realized that neither of us had cash, which we had discovered earlier, and that we would need some to pay for parking. I am a huge fan of parking in the Hyatt garage and using the walkway to avoid people and weather. So, we traveled past Rupp, on down Broadway in search of a bank, or at the very least, an ATM. After driving a few miles, one surfaced. I pull through the wrong side, after noticing that the cop car parked in the parking lot was in fact empty, and let Auntie get us some cash. Back on the road again. And in the nick of time, too. Just after I went through the wrong way a car went in behind us haulin' ass. We just missed a head on collision. How 'bout that?
We get back to Rupp, park in my favorite lot, and make our way inside. Of course, I have to stop and look at the souvenirs. I couldn't help but compare it to a concert in a way. Millions of people, standing, drinking, mingling, and wasting money. The only difference, they were mostly all wearing blue, or a blue and white combination. It was a sea of blue, and one of the most beautiful sights I have ever seen. Hell, even I am drawn into the atmospheric phenom and purchase yet another UK shirt and a pom pom. We head toward our seats and are just lucky enough to walk by the ice cream shop. If the line hadn't been so long, I probably would have ventured to my seat with one, but I've been doing better with my eating habits, so I knew it was a sign I wasn't supposed to have one today.
Auntie and I finally find our seats after walking up two flights of stairs. But hey, they were FREE. Did I mention they were free? Oh, so I did. Anyway, we sit down, and I am in awe. And heat, sort of. My sweat shirt is burning me alive. If I don't get this thing off I am going to spontaneously com-bust I think. I take it off and get settled, camera ready, phone ready, and I look around to see all the blue. I've never seen so much blue in one place in my life. My favorite color, all around me like a big blue blanket. It. Was. Magical. Down go the lights. I watch, mesmerized by the unfolding of the events. Lights are flashing, fans are cheering, announcers start calling off names of the players -- Davis, Lamb, Jones, Kidd-Gilchrist -- probably not in that order, but there they came. And each time, fireworks would go off from the ceiling. I was so excited.
After some more entertainment from the cheerleaders and the dance team and the kick-ass band (yes, any band that plays Cee Lo Green, Kansas, and Edgar Winter Group, all in the same sitting, they are kick-ass in my book), the game is underway. It went so fast! We were winning, I loved it! But then, low and behold, what would happen? People come in late, and inform me I am in their seats. And you know what? I was. That's right, it wouldn't be me if I didn't do something stupid ALL the time. I zigged when I should have zagged, in other words, I went left in the row instead of right and ended up in the wrong section. So half the people in the correct section had to get up during the game and let us through to the correct seats. They were NOT happy campers. But hey, did I mention I don't care? Everybody makes mistakes, geez! These seats were worse, however, we were packed in like sardines. At this point, I am even more glad that I took my sweatshirt off beforehand.
Game continues, bad calls and all. And we got some bad calls. If you were watching the game, you probably saw them. Here's what I noticed. I am ADD. Not technically, I mean I don't take medication, but I have a short attention span. So, I found myself unable to pay attention to the actual game at times because I was so busy watching and listening to my surroundings, something that never happens when I'm sitting on my couch. Also something I don't notice when I'm at home on my couch, how EVERYBODY in the arena stands up and yells simultaneously when there is a bad call. And, I do mean everybody. I was scared for the refs at this point. I mean, would you want that many angry people gunning for you? I wouldn't. These people were angry. REALLY angry. Especially the woman below me to my right, she was very distracting. The entire game she yelled, every 5 seconds like clockwork, "C'mon Cats!" repeatedly. Sometimes she would thrown in a "GET EEEEM!!!" when I wasn't expecting it. Then there were a couple times that she yelled at the refs. I wondered if this woman thought that she could actually be heard. We were in section 230. Row T. Practically on the roof. The chance that any of the players or Coach Cal hearing her were about as slim as me not hearing her. But she was acting like she was Coach Cal's right hand here. And her patience was wearing thin. I thought at one time I wouldn't be able to stop myself from hitting her she was so obnoxious, but, she came to watch, just like me. I just wish she would have done it more quietly.
Everything after half time is a blur mostly. I remember several 3 point shots from Jones, cause he was on fire! And I remember jumping to my feet in unison with everybody else each time. I felt like I was a part of something. I felt like I belonged. We were pulling it off again, another home win. However, I did get upset with Wiltjer after those stupid goof-ups he made that almost caused us some real problems. My first thought was, "It ain't no wonder we ain't got that many white boys, they ain't got no game!" and my second thought was, "Why is he still in there? Does his dad have money or something?" Moments later, he made a 3 point shot, and I was like, "Oh. That's why." What? I had legitimate thoughts. The guys behind me were saying the same thing, so I wasn't alone.
Not long after, the game was over. Everyone scattered, and I just sat there. Watching. Reliving. That had to be the shortest game ever. But I guess it just felt that way because I was there, watching. No annoying commercials to sit through. Just basketball. It actually reminded me of how I used to feel when I played. I missed playing. I missed being a part of a team. And it hit me. I had watched religion. Everyone claims that high school football and Friday nights are a religion, well so is UK basketball. I guess I always knew that in a way, but watching it happen, seeing it first hand, a people coming together to celebrate an event, all thinking and feeling the same way, there to support their team, win or lose. Well, that's somewhat of a worshiping to me, and a way of life. I noticed people there of all ages, older people who were probably alumni or long-time fans. Small children dressed up in their UK gear and waving their pom poms and #1 hands, sporting blue hair and painted faces. It was the coolest thing ever. I remember thinking how closely related the feeling was to attending a concert for me. It was a show, a performance, people came to watch and enjoy themselves. The only difference is, they were all wearing the same color. It was one amazing game. I couldn't help but think about how I'd make it back for another. I wanted to experience this again. But from a closer seat. It occurred to me that was the first time I'd been in the 'cheap seats' at Rupp. My fear of heights doesn't help either.
We headed out of the Arena finally, watching the masses scatter. Traffic was murder of course, and so was finding somewhere to feed our starving faces that wasn't an hour wait. But we amused ourselves by coming up with things my dad would say if he were stuck in traffic. Dad can be so entertaining. We could hear him talking as if he was there, "Can you get that 100 foot rig out of the road? I just don't think you can," "Give it a little gas, it's that right pedal, there," "Well you dumb son of a b***h, can't you drive no better than that?" "Well what in the hell is going on here? Have you ever seen the beat of this in your life?" And of course there a few more with some choice words I won't use. My dad is very fun to travel with.
All in all, it was a great experience. I loved it, I will go back, and I can't wait. Maybe this weekend if I can. But, as I sit here watching it snow, I think I better get up and start doing a few things in case my 'juice' goes out. Thanks for reading!
<3 Peace!
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