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| Wednesday, October 30 Updated: October 31, 9:52 AM ET Winning's never enough ... even when UK wins it all By Pat Forde Special to ESPN.com |
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LEXINGTON, Ky. -- It was February 1998, and first-year Kentucky coach Tubby Smith was earning his seven-figure salary. He was hearing from fans on the "Big Blue Line" call-in show. It's a sanity-challenging task every week, but this week especially. The show was airing just a couple days after an upset home loss to Mississippi. In most locales that year, it was no shame losing to a Rebels team that would go on to make the NCAA Tournament. But this was Kentucky. Amid the criticism came a caller trying to sound generous in spirit.
"Coach," said the guy, "I just want you to know I haven't given up on this team yet." What faith. The Wildcats were 22-4 at the time. Turns out that fan's dogged belief in the face of incredible, seemingly insurmountable adversity was rewarded. From that point on, the Cats won their last 13 games, right through the national title. That's life in Kentucky, where four losses by mid-February can turn the True Believers into angst-ridden doubters. Where, to borrow Smith's oft-repeated quote, "much is given, but much is expected." Is it ever. "Every time you put that blue jersey on, if you win, you're supposed to," said former Cat J.P. Blevins, a native of Edmonson, Ky., and a life-long expert on the Big Blue Beast. "If you lose, all hell breaks loose. "Once you lose, it doesn't matter when it is or who it's against. You've got problems." Kentucky is the college basketball capital of towering expectations, though it hardly has a corner on the market. Fans can be similarly demanding at Indiana, North Carolina and UCLA. Steve Lavin, who has taken the Bruins to four Sweet Sixteens and an Elite Eight in six seasons, is nevertheless target of an annual fire-the-coach movement. He's also been the recipient of threatening e-mails, and was almost undermined by his own athletic director at midseason a couple of years ago when Pete Dalis contacted Rick Pitino after he resigned from the Boston Celtics. Matt Doherty's second season as coach of the Tar Heels was a 20-loss disaster that devolved into mockery from some fans. (After a late Carolina flurry reduced the deficit in one grisly loss to 24 points, a fan stood up in the Dean Dome and shouted, "We've cut it to a 12-possession game!") If there isn't dramatic progress shown in Year Three, it will be hard to convince fans of the necessity for a Year Four. Even for a former Tar Heel hero. Mike Davis endured a cold-blooded, near-mutiny at Indiana from the Bob Knight Militia (which still hasn't completely disarmed and dispersed). They unbelievably sold Texas Tech merchandise for a while in the campus bookstore, and attendance dipped appreciably his first season as head coach -- unheard-of for a significant number of seats to go unused in Assembly Hall. It wasn't until the Hoosiers' run to the national title game that many fans got off Davis' back. (Davis was recently greeted at one appearance by a fan who said, "Coach, we like you now.") But nowhere does the faithful live and die with every dribble like they do in the commonwealth of Kentucky. There is no competition from pro sports, and Big Blue fandom is an heirloom passed on from generation to generation. The passion here runs deeper than any coal mine, and the demands stand taller than any Appalachian hills. That's life in a state were expectant parents send ultrasounds of their fetuses to the coach of the Wildcats, so he can start a recruiting file. Everyone has their favorite Cat fan story:
Run a quality of life survey on Kentucky basketball fans, and a Final Four season would rank right up there with good schools, paved roads, safe neighborhoods and clean water. Just this week, when one national web site predicted an NCAA Sweet Sixteen run for this year's Wildcats, the response on the Kentucky fan message boards was swift, visceral and disapproving. "Ekkkkkkk," wrote one fan. "Please, please not another Sweet 16 finish ..." Wonder what, say, South Carolina or Vanderbilt would be willing to do for "another Sweet 16 finish"? When you're the winningest program in the history of the sport, both in terms of total wins and percentage, when you have seven national championship banners fluttering from the rafters, defeat is inexplicable. Defeat can spur statewide crisis. Defeat can make any coach closely resemble a moron. (Ask Tubby Smith, who feels some flame crackling beneath his loafers after three consecutive seasons of double-digit defeats -- a first in progrma history.) Even humongous victories have failed to fully calm the eternally edgy fan base. Back to the call-in shows for Exhibit A: After Kentucky absolutely murdered Tennessee 101-40 in the opening round of the 1993 Southeastern Conference tournament, a postgame caller fretted, "We're not going very far if we only get 13 points from (Jamal) Mashburn." Fear not, Cat Fan. Kentucky got plenty out of Mashburn the rest of the way and rolled unabated to the Final Four that year. But even a national title or Final Four appearance guarantees no grace period the following year. Blevins arrived at Kentucky as a freshman after that '98 national title, and when the Cats were upset in their fifth game of the 1998-99 season by Pittsburgh in Puerto Rico, the lamentations were loud when the team returned to the mainland. "There are no carryovers," Blevins said. "Doesn't matter if you won the national championship the year before. Throw all that out. "But you can use that pressure two ways: to motivate you, or to tear you down. At Kentucky you try to use the pressure on the program to your advantage. There's no going .500 here, that's not a possibility. So you have to get it going. "I'm sure there's a lot of programs that would love that attention and that pressure." No doubt about that. Who wouldn't want a fan base that performs a virtual Special Ops takeover of every neutral site in March? "Blue gets in," was the admiring comment from former Vanderbilt and South Carolina coach Eddie Fogler. Former Georgia coach Hugh Durham referred to the "blue mist" that overtook whatever arena the Cats played in. Scalpers smile when they see Kentucky headed their way. Who wouldn't want a fan base ready, willing and able to bestow celebrity status on even the end-of-the-bench Wildcats? Take a look at the girlfriends sitting in the players' seats in the Rupp Arena end zone and you know the uniform has its priveleges. (Heck, play your cards right and you might end up with Ashley Judd giving you a hug in the locker room after a big win. Now THAT is a privelege.) Who wouldn't want a fan base that treats its former players like heroes for life, often setting them up with well-paying jobs? Even the guys who don't wind up writing books -- yes, the likes of Jeff Sheppard, Cameron Mills and Richie Farmer are published authors -- can trade on their status as ex-Cats. Hold up your end of the bargain -- play hard, get a degree, stay out of trouble -- and it's possible to spend the next 40 years of your life on scholarship in Kentucky. Just win, baby, and all this can be yours. But don't forget to win. Pat Forde of the Louisville Courier-Journal is a regular contributor to ESPN.com
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