Kentucky fans can finally settle down after an emotionally exhausting week
I don’t know about you, but I did not do a minute of exercise this week, and my body is worn out. My innards are absolute mush from the emotional roller coaster…no…the emotional half-put-together Hillbilly Days carnival ride that was this past week.
Everything from anger to hope to jubilation to bitterness to nostalgia to disbelief to regret to stress to jealousy all reached maximum piques and were compacted into six days that felt like six months. I had friends I hadn’t spoken to in years reach out at various points in the Kentucky coaching search process to see how I was doing, a gesture typically reserved for a major life event like the death of a family member.
KSR’s Editor in Chief, Tyler Thompson, shared the emotional peaks and valleys that her Oura ring captured during one day, but those meme-stock-looking volatile data points stayed consistent all week.
While I don’t own a mood ring from the future to map my feelings in visual graph format, I can safely confirm similar erratic swings. My hunch is that so did you.
Now that the dust has settled, let’s dip back into what this unexpected coaching search was like to process as an unabashed big blue die-hard. I hear it helps.
Sunday: Denial
Denial is the first stage of grief and losing John Calipari was no different. It was supposed to be a relaxing Sunday evening. I was in Phoenix at the Final Four’s free Mumford and Sons concert biding my time between acts by scrolling through Twitter when I first saw the news of Calipari jettisoning to Arkansas. Like most of Big Blue Nation, I first laughed it off, but when it started to gain steam, I began to panic. As it became more and more evident this wasn’t a hoax, denial set in.
The Calipari-Kentucky partnership has had all too many relationship analogies, but I’ll add one more. It felt like I had gone to break up with my girlfriend but she convinced me to stay together. Then, three weeks later, she broke up with me. No lie, it kind of hurt. It doesn’t matter how much you want to end a relationship, after 15 years, you can’t help but care for them.
It couldn’t be true, and yet it was.
Monday: Anger morphs into bargaining and then depression
It was probably best for all parties for Kentucky and Calipari to split ways, but the way it all went down left a bitter taste in my mouth. I felt genuine resentment toward a man who used to elicit the most extreme sports highs I’ve ever experienced.
Then on Monday, things got weird.
There were rumors that Calipari hadn’t alerted Mitch Barnhart of his intentions to leave, false reports of a supposed counteroffer, murmurs of cold feet from Calipari, and then there was that bizarre dog-walking charade. You couldn’t convince me that wasn’t some sort of sinister stunt Cal orchestrated for devious motivations, but again, that’s where my head space was at the time.
What if he pulled a Larry David/George Costanza and just showed up to work on Monday like normal, saying, “Quit? Who quit? I didn’t quit. What are you talking about?”
For a brief moment, I had cold feet too. Thoughts of, “Well, it wouldn’t be the worst if he stayed,” crept into my brain, though they often conflicted with my more rational side.
By Monday night, it became clear there was no path toward retention. The great Calipari-Kentucky run was over. You couldn’t help but be a little down that one of the great eras of Kentucky basketball was over, but there was no time to dwell. It was time to move on both emotionally and tactically into a coaching search.
Tuesday: Acceptance and Hope
Even though my brain processed the split, it was nonetheless gut-wrenching to see Calipari in Arkansas red. Just plain icky. It is one thing to break up with your significant other but to see them dating the dope on the other side of town so soon stings the heart a bit.
Regardless, that was the final step of acceptance, and hope for the future emerged. After all, there was plenty of fish in the sea and every supermodel wanted to us. Right? Right?
The likes of Jay Wright, Brad Stevens, and Dan Hurley were not only on the table but all likely targets. If not them, Drew Scott would certainly take the job and Billy Donovan wouldn’t possibly turn us down a third time. There was nowhere to go but up.
Wednesday: The Ultimate Big Blue Madness
They call the first official practice of the season Big Blue Madness, but nothing quite encapsulates the borderline craziness of Wildcat fans like a coaching search. With Drew Scott emerging as the primary target and enthusiasm growing for the coach with the best résumé ever to be hired by Kentucky would take the reins, BBN did its thing.
From the tracking of private jets, to peppering a diner in Waco with phone calls, to cross-referencing archived Family Feud episodes with Texas television programming, the Internet sleuths of Big Blue Nation were in full force. And it was awesome. We even got into Twitter wars with Chip Gaines, the guy who is likely responsible for that shiplap accent wall you have in your house.
Such antics formed a Cheshire Cat quality grin that remained steadfast for hours, but underneath the amusement resided a budding feeling of doubt and stress that would soon be realized.
Thursday: Rejection and Despair
Even the most religious among us were mocking the Lord when Drew Scott’s prayers received a divine, “Stay at Baylor” response. But who needs God when you’ve got money? It was time to back the Brinks truck up to the Hurley house and, “Make him say no.”
It didn’t take long for that strategy to work. Kentucky made him say no.
Now it was time to wait for Billy Donovan, whose Chicago Bulls season wouldn’t end for another week, but surely Barnhart couldn’t have been in that big of a rush, right? Glowing remarks from Donovan hinted at mutual interest and while the wait was going to kill us, a sense of worried calm set in Thursday late afternoon.
However, just like the coaching vacancy took us off guard shortly after our significant other fell asleep on the couch watching Netflix, the coaching hire did the same thing.
Thursday night: Denial, anger, bargaining, and depression all over again
Mark Pope? Seriously? I mean, he’s a good guy and all, and fans of a certain age have fond memories of him helping the ‘Cats to a national title in 1996. But Mark Pope…really? The BYU coach who has never won an NCAA Tournament game?
Some folks tried to put on a happy face, but the discontent was real. “Fire Mitch!” chants echoed across message boards and social media alike, while others expressed their contempt with a benevolent plea for others not to direct their frustrations toward Pope himself. Even the most optimistic of fans called the decision rushed.
I had one friend wistfully ponder aloud if the immediate backlash would cause Kentucky to reconsider the hire, sort of how Texas A&M reneged on Mark Stoops at the midnight hour after a fanbase Twitter meltdown.
If Pope had not gone to Kentucky, a coach of his stature would not even be considered at a place like Kentucky and many folks within Big Blue Nation went to bed ready to put themselves in the fan transfer portal.
Friday: Acceptance and Excitement
We Wildcat fans are a fickle bunch. After being so distraught just hours earlier, the sun started to rise over my old Kentucky home. Mitch Barnhart, not exactly known for his ability to rally the troops, called into Kentucky Sports Radio and in an instant, flipped the collective mood of the Commonwealth.
Suddenly, fans were bidding up Mark Pope denim jerseys on E-Bay and the nostalgia and visions of a ’90s run began to sink into the fanbase’s veins. A modern offense, you say? A passion for the name on the front of the jersey?
Suddenly, mostly everyone jumped aboard the Pope mobile and was ready for battle.
The mood swings from this week were real. The surprise coaching vacancy followed by the surprise hire showcased the true passion of the fanbase and what makes it unmatched in the nation. Call us crazy. Call us irrational. You can call us whatever you want. You’re probably at least partially right. But the minute Big Blue Nation stops these emotional swings is the moment we stop being Kentucky.
And we’ll never stop being Kentucky.
