Ding, Dong, the Ponytail’s Gone!

There are a ton of subjects I thought about discussing to kick off the new year. After all, 2020 was a year like no other. Politics, pandemonium, and a pandemic all setting the stage for a perfect storm of philosophical whining.

So, after much deliberation, I’ve decided to talk about something everybody has an opinion on…OUR HAIR. Don’t scoff. Regardless of your current lot in life, the reality is that a bad hair day can make you or break you. Just ask James Dean, Farrah Fawcett, or Bo Derek. Good hair launched their Hollywood careers.

The amount of money spent every year on hair conditioning products is mind boggling. Brittle hair, dry hair, frizzy hair, greasy hair—enough potential problems to give everyone gray hairs. And that’s just the minor stuff. In the state of Kentucky, hair restoration is big business. We hate bald spots and receding hairlines as much as we abhor hair-brained basketball.

For the last five years, I’ve worn my hair in an unconventional ponytail. To commemorate the end of a hair-raising 2020, I’m ringing in 2021 with a brand-new look. I’m sending the ponytail packing.

Here are five good (or not so good reasons) why I did it.

1. Breaking into the UK Media market

The University of Kentucky media beat is ridiculously crowded. When I first started out back in 2014, it was also fairly homogeneous. I watched sports-obsessed stalwarts like Oscar Combs, Alan Cutler, and Larry Vaught peppering Coach John Calipari with all sorts of insightful questions. I knew I had to stand out in some way to get noticed. Being Asian helped. Being an Asian guy with a ponytail would surely turn some heads. It worked. Oscar invited me onto his podcast Episode 60 – Conversations with Oscar Combs – John Huang – OscarCombs.com , and we’ve become close friends ever since. I ended up writing a book with Cutler https://www.amazon.com/dp/B08GTJ2DSC . And Coach Cal has called me out on several occasions for asking all sorts of weird questions. Mission accomplished.

2. Being the hippie I always wanted to be

I always thought ponytails were cool. Think Brad Pitt, or Roger Federer, or John Travolta in Pulp Fiction. If those guys walk into a restaurant like they own the place, they’ll be treated to the best seat in the house. Unfortunately, that never worked for me. With Covid-19 raging all around us, who spends time even eating in restaurants? Not me. Not cool. No need for ponytail.

3. I’m not your daddy

There was a time when people thought my brother, Michael, and I looked alike. Granted, he still looks thirty years old. Me—not so much. That hair pulled back off my forehead aged me twenty years. When one of Michael’s friends asked me if I was his dad, that was the final straw. Scissors, please.

4. Boys don’t have ponytails

“Girls have ponytails. Boys don’t have ponytails,” said my five-year-old nephew Gabriel. In my case, the kid was right. The apparent gender ambiguity—especially behind a COVID-19 face covering—was what broke the camel’s back. It’s always a bit disturbing being called “Mam” by the Kroger checkout cashier. I immediately made a beeline for the Great Clips next door—and twenty minutes later, the ponytail was history.

5. Time heals a lot of wounds

Since my mom died in 2014, getting haircuts has always been a bit of a spiritual experience for me. I wrote about it in a previous blog post https://huangswhinings.com/2016/04/26/mah-mah/ . You see, my mom cut my hair throughout my entire life. I think one of the reasons I grew my hair long was because I missed having her cut it. I still miss my mom…but it’s time to move on.

The old has gone, the new has come.

Happy New Year, everyone!

(Man, I’m so good looking.)

Returning to Holy Ground

This morning, I attended in-person services at church for the first time since the beginning of the Covid-19 shutdown back in March. I’ll confess, it’s not the longest time I’ve been away. There have been many consecutive Sunday mornings in the past where I just decided to sleep in. There have also been times during UK Basketball season where I’ve disappeared for a few months at a time. And oh yeah, there was that decade and a half in my 20s and 30s where I didn’t go at all. But by and large—at least for the past quarter of a century—going to church on Sundays and visiting with my Centenary church family has been a pretty big deal.

So, I was excited when Centenary announced their plans to restart their on-site Sunday services on Father’s Day. In fact, I was so pumped for the re-opening that I wanted to be first in line. Here’s what it was like returning to Holy Ground.

Okay, I’d be lying (and it’s never a good idea to lie, especially while in church) if I said I wasn’t at least a little bit hesitant about coming back so quickly. As much as I hate to admit it—morbidity wise—I’m approaching that vulnerable age group deemed by the CDC to be the most susceptible to the virus.

But I figured there’ll never be a safer time to return than right now. Strict sanitation standards will surely be implemented, social distancing requirements will be rigorously enforced, and everybody present will be on high alert against coughing, sneezing, or touching their face (or anybody else’s face for that matter). Everybody has their guard up. No one wants to be the church that screws it up for everyone else.

The single church service begins at 10:30, and we’ve been told to arrive about 30 minutes early. There’s minimal traffic this morning, so I pull into the noticeably-less-than-full parking lot at just after 10. Immediately, I sense that something’s just a bit off kilter—it’s eerily quiet and a bit awkward as we all march up towards the single front entrance. After such a long absence away, we’re not quite sure how to greet each other—especially behind the veil of our protective masks.

It’s a bit surreal (I promise I won’t use that word again) walking into the building. I grab a dollop of hand sanitizer, receive my pre-packaged communion elements, and resist the temptation to violate everyone’s 6-ft bubble by shaking hands and dispensing hugs as I usually would.

Entering the front doors, I notice the narthex has been completely transformed. Gone is the comfortable seating, the free coffee, and the lively conversational cliques we’re so used to seeing on Sunday mornings. There’s no handshaking, no backslapping, no bragging about the golf game or the recent trip to Alaska. The message has been received LOUD and CLEAR: Come, worship, leave—DO NOT CONGREGATE!

It’s even more sterile within the sanctuary. The abundance of plexiglass and the roped off pews gives off a definite public vibe—as if I’m waiting in line at the post office to mail a package. The hundred-plus worshippers this morning are seated every third pew, three to a pew, with much more than the required distance of separation in between them.

The choir is noticeably absent, as are the usual number of kids and youth milling about. In fact, I’m a bit surprised at the disproportionate number of older folks like me who are filling the pews. Don’t they realize their life is in danger? I take a moment to chit chat with some familiar faces, exchange pleasantries and wave to those making eye contact, and remain poised for the sermon ahead.

The sermon by Pastor James is a good one. He talks about how God’s plans for our life are often different from our own life plans. God has a road map lined out for you, but it’s often not placed directly in front of your face. Our continued obedience and faith in God will eventually draw us close enough to view the map clearly. In the meantime, stand firm and keep trusting.

After Communion in the pews and a poignant benediction, we’re punctually dismissed. Like good soldiers committed to following Governor Andy’s rules, we file directly out of the church, into our cars, and back to our pets waiting expectantly for us at home.

Reading this narrative, you might guess I was disappointed by my lack of a familiar church experience. I mean if you have to wear face coverings, can’t hug anybody, have to sit by yourself, can’t attend Sunday school classes, and are discouraged from congregating, drinking coffee, and socializing with friends—then why come at all? Sure, the sermon was fantastic, but I could have watched it online—naked and unmasked—from the comfort of my bed.

And yet, there was something ethereal about the entire experience. It wasn’t just the taking of Communion either. Honestly, there really is a heavenly power at work when like-minded believers gather together in worship.

In the second chapter of the Book of Acts, the Apostle Paul wrote, “When the day of Pentecost came, they were all together in one place. Suddenly a sound like the blowing of a violent wind came from heaven and filled the whole house where they were sitting.”

Paul was talking about the entrance of the Holy Spirit into the lives and bodies of the early Christians. For us present-day believers, as the world around us seems to be crumbling, it’s easy to forget the power that already resides within us—that same power that raised Christ from the dead and seated him at his right hand in the heavenly realms. For me, being back together in worship this morning under one roof was a much-needed reminder of the sovereignty and dominion of God.

The good Lord designed us for relationships—affinity for Him, and connection with each other. Throughout my Christian walk, I’ve prayed until I’m blue in the face, I’ve memorized Scripture ad nauseum, I’ve listened to sermons galore. And yet, the greatest inspiration for my faith journey to date has always been the presence of other like-minded pilgrims on the same path as me. I know there’s more to genuine relationships than face-to-face interactions, but in our temporary world of quarantine and self-isolation, that presence together this morning rekindled a flickering flame.

It’s hard for me to describe the power of Christian community. There’s a lot more to it than meets the eye. Even as I try to explain it to you, it’s a heck of a lot better if you experience it for yourself.

To God be the glory!

See you next Sunday!

Damn You, Coronavirus!

(photo credit Bluegrass Sports Nation)

(LEXINGTON, Ky.) — Other than World War III, this current global pandemic has to be the most significant challenge we’ll face in our lifetimes. Nothing can rival the isolation, the destruction, and the fear generated by an invisible pathogen that has killed our economy, our loved ones, and our sense of security all in one fell swoop.

Many have said that the sporting world is a microcosm of society. If that’s true, then rest assured that us die-hard sports fans are suffering through the exact same voids of discouragement and despair as the rest of the planet. COVID-19 has entered our lives like a thief in the night and robbed us of everything that we hold dear. March Madness, The Masters, and Keeneland—all gone in the blink of an eye.

As bad as it for those of us watching from the peanut gallery, imagine the anxiety of those actually in the arena. I’m not talking about the megastars of major sports like the NBA or MLB. Those guys won’t miss a beat. I’m talking about those in the trenches—the grinders who have busted tail to get where they are, only to see their hopes and dreams curtailed by an unseen enemy.

I’m talking about somebody like Chip McDaniel. The former University of Kentucky golfer was embarking on a young professional career that was headed into the stratosphere. The 24-year-old hometown hero from Manchester had turned pro in 2018, immediately made the cut in his first professional tournament at the Barbasol Championships, and then quickly followed that up with his first pro tournament win at the Governor’s Open.

If that weren’t impressive enough, McDaniel went on to finish 1^st in sectional qualifying for the 2019 US Open, made the cut at Pebble Beach, and ended up finishing 78^thamongst the best golfers in the world. Surviving the rigors of Q-School finals in December, McDaniel had just finished up the first six tournaments on the Korn Ferry Tour when his golfing world imploded.

“It just came to a stop,” Chip told me on a phone interview the other day. “I went from hardly being home to being home basically 24/7—which was nice for two weeks. And then it kind of set in that it wasn’t just a short break. It was definitely an adjustment for most golfers I would say.”

An adjustment is a definite understatement. Were I in Chip’s shoes, I’d be going ballistic—throwing thunderbolts of anger and loathing at the golfing gods who brought this on. To have worked so hard to get to where I’ve gotten in life, only to see everything potentially vaporized by a bat out of China would send me into bouts of depression and self-pity. Damn you, Coronavirus would be my mantra of the day.

If you know Chip, however—or the entire McDaniel clan for that matter—you know that would never be the case with him. In fact, dejection and despondency about his career was the farthest thing from his mind.

“What’s been the hardest part for me is being at home and not being able to see the people that I normally don’t get to see because I’m traveling all the time,” Chip explained. “Now it’s like I’m stuck at home, but I still can’t see them because my parents are a little paranoid that I’ll be a carrier and give it to my grandparents.”

So, what has he been doing with all this extra social distancing time? Thankfully, many of the golf courses are still open, and Chip is able to get out of his house consistently to improve his game. He’s been working diligently to get his body in better shape, to sharpen his faith, and to keep a positive attitude.

“It’s pretty crazy,” Chip explained. “I feel that this is almost so crazy that the whole country—the whole world—is on pause basically. From a career standpoint, it’s probably a better situation for me than with an injury. I think once everything goes back to normal, it’ll almost be like a restart button. I feel like that’s the only way I can think about it and just try to prepare myself for that moment that it does start to go back to normal.”

And therein lies one of the best pieces of advice I’ve heard from anyone on how we should be dealing with this unwelcome interruption in our lives. Whether uber-talented professional golfer or below-average fledgling sportswriter, Chip McDaniel and I have a common Coronavirus goal. We’re both striving to emerge from this pandemic better than when we went in.

“Continue to stick to yourself,” Chip reminded me. “And try to focus on something to make yourself better when you go out. That way you distract yourself from what’s going on. And then when it’s over and everything is back to normal, you’ll be a little bit better than when it started.”

Wise words, indeed. If everyone heeds that sage advice, then we really have nothing to fear. Because if we’re all just a tiny bit better than we were before, then the world will undoubtedly be a more joyful place for everyone.

Dr. John Huang is a columnist for Nolan Group Media. If you enjoy his writing, you can read more at Nolangroupmedia.com or follow him on Twitter @KYHuangs.

Racism Revisited

A couple of recent events got me thinking about the sensitive issue of race.

The first occurred on Christmas Day when I watched “Reggie Warford: Fight of His Life.” Although the inspirational documentary zeroed in on Reggie’s current life-threatening health issues, much of the story chronicled his early battles with racism. As the first African American basketball player to graduate from the University of Kentucky in 1976, Reggie endured the many slings and arrows as “the loneliest athlete in America.”

The second event occurred just a couple of days ago with the passing of Houston Hogg. Hogg, who played football at the University of Kentucky from 1967-70, together with his African American teammates, broke the Southeastern Conference color barrier—thus paving the way for thousands of other athletes to follow.

Both Reggie and Houston were pioneers of integration, forever changing the landscape of sports in America. Because UK Basketball and Football have been such a big part of my life, I’m indebtedly grateful for their courage and sacrifice in making UK Athletics what it is today. I can’t imagine what it was like for either Reggie or Houston as they navigated through the prejudices and turmoil of the 60s and 70s. I’m a bit embarrassed to admit that I never really knew their stories or felt their pain.

There aren’t many issues in the world more divisive than ones involving race. It’s always been that way—at least in my lifetime. Growing up in the sixties, the battles over civil rights, school segregation, and affirmative action dominated the news headlines. In the nineties, the OJ Simpson saga had the entire nation polarized, as well as mesmerized. Even today, the specter of black versus white lies deceptively camouflaged, springing to life disguised as arguments involving police brutality and the appropriateness of kneeling during the national anthem.

In my personal experience, there are two segments of American society where outright racism lies comparatively dormant—the military and sports. Having served in the armed forces, I’ve seen people of every color work cohesively to support the mission at hand. In my role as a sportswriter, I’ve also seen the undeniable bond between teammates, regardless of their race or ethnicity.

But even in those realms, one would be extremely naïve to believe that prejudice is totally non-existent. The reality is that racism remains everywhere, often rearing its ugly head when you least expect it, forcing you to repeatedly re-examine the undeniable truth in our own Declaration of Independence that “all men are created equal.”

Within our own beloved Big Blue Nation, Kentucky Basketball fans pride themselves on being one big unified family. Yet one of the most divisive issues among the rabid fan base is still whether Adolph Rupp was a racist. The Baron of the Bluegrass, the man in the brown suit, the winningest coach of the program with the greatest tradition in the history of college basketball still gets eviscerated every time the race question gets brought up.

Why didn’t he recruit African American players—especially those in-state athletes so close to home? Why didn’t he cultivate a relationship with Dunbar High School’s late great African American coach S.T. Roach? What about Rupp’s allegedly overt racist halftime rant as recounted by Frank DeFord of Sports Illustrated?

For the many that have written about and pointed an accusatory finger at Coach Rupp, just as many have come to his defense. There’s a vocal majority—including many of his former players—who swear the stories implying bigotry and prejudice were either distorted or taken completely out of context. Ardent Wildcat fans cringe at the very thought of always being portrayed as the villain in the notebook of revisionist history.

Understandably, the truth remains clouded. Adolph Rupp was a product of those turbulent times. Stereotypes, societal prejudices, and even the law of the land screamed “inequality.” People spoke, thought, and reasoned differently than they do today. How else can you explain “separate but equal”, the use of blackface, and smart and experienced broadcasters such as Howard Cosell making egregious racial on-air slurs? That doesn’t necessarily absolve people of blame, but it does give you a reason for understanding why they acted as they did.

At the risk of contracting foot-in-mouth disease, I’ll readily admit I have no earthly idea what it’s like to be African American—just like most of you have no idea what it’s like to be Asian. I can tell you several instances in my life where I faced outright derision and discrimination. There were also numerous times well-meaning acquaintances made what they thought were innocent or funny quips regarding my heritage that I deemed insensitive and hurtful. My point being that we just don’t know what it’s like until we’ve walked a mile in someone else’s shoes.

I’d like to think that I don’t harbor any prejudices toward anyone. The reality, however, is that we all are influenced by the stereotypes of the era in which we grew up, lived, and breathed. How you thought, spoke, and acted in the 60s, 70s, or 80s was different than how you live, speak, and act today. What’s really important is what’s in your heart.

Muhammad Ali once said, “A man who views the world at fifty the same as he did at twenty has wasted thirty years of his life.”

Was Adolph Rupp a racist? I think the more appropriate question is “would Adolph Rupp be a racist in today’s day and age?”

I’d like to think not, but no one knows for sure what was in the Baron’s heart. What we do know is that racism and discrimination, in any way, shape, or form, is WRONG—and runs counter to the biblical truths instilled in us by our Creator.

If you’ve ever harbored feelings of superiority or arrogance because of the color of your own skin, there’s only one solution for you. SIMPLY BE BETTER! Go out of your way to view the world from the other person’s perspective. Be forever thankful for the sacrifices made by people like Reggie Warford and Houston Hogg who blazed those perilous trails.

Most importantly, examine your own heart. Extend grace to someone who has wronged you. Deliver mercy to those who have suffered.

And finally, if needed, ask God for forgiveness…and while you’re at it, please say a prayer for Reggie, Houston, and all their families.

If you enjoy my writing, please drop me a note at KYHuangs@aol.com, or follow me on Twitter @KYHuangs.

Cancer Sucks, and I’m a Wuss

In the annals of American history, December 7^th is a date that will live in infamy. It’s also the date that I found out I had prostate cancer. On that fateful Pearl Harbor Day from last year, I discovered something else about myself. I’M A WUSS. I don’t take bad news well.

Everyone has a bit of a hypochondriac in them. You always kind of wonder how you’ll react when receiving the dreaded CANCER diagnosis. Will you stand firm in your faith, calling on years of spiritual steadfastness to fight the good fight? Or will you cower in fear, dread, and self-pity, lamenting the misfortune of being struck down in your prime?

I’m embarrassed to admit—I didn’t handle the situation well. I tried to put on a brave face on the outside, but inwardly I was scared. I sulked. I worried. I’ll confess that my mind went to some dark places. In other words, I wilted like a weak-willed wallflower—like a wimp…a weakling…a wuss.

The reality is that, other than skin cancer, prostate cancer is the most common cancer found in American men. One man in nine will be diagnosed with it in his lifetime. It’s the second leading cause of cancer death in the United States. Statistically, about one man in forty-one will die of the disease. It’s a serious illness, but it’s also highly treatable.

My cancer was discovered early with a routine PSA (prostate-specific antigen) blood test. Even though my levels were still within the normal range, they had gradually risen over the past couple of years. The doctor recommended a biopsy, which led to the eventual surprising diagnosis. Previously, I had no adverse urinary symptoms. I was in great physical shape and had always taken good care of my body. I could still run an eight-minute mile. This couldn’t be happening to me, I thought.

Well, think again. Through my supportive family, praying friends, and Dr. Charles Ray at Commonwealth Urology, I somehow waded through the funk. Rather than undergo radiation or selective seeding, I decided to have my entire prostate removed, knowing full well that those embarrassing incontinence and erectile dysfunction issues could likely follow. Appropriately, I ended up having robotic surgery on Valentine’s Day at Baptist Health Hospital, spent a miserable week with a dangling catheter, and the next six weeks mired in recovery.

Fortunately for me, the incontinence issues have cleared up quickly. I’m peeing like a horse—with no runs or drips. I’ve got a whole bag of unused Depends if anyone needs them. The ED issues are more of a challenge. Let’s just say I’m glad this didn’t happen twenty years earlier. The doctor is confident I’ll regain my edge. I’m a bit more skeptical, although thoroughly amazed that the vacuum penis pump has thus far delivered as promised.

Just when I was nearly back to fighting strength, however, life throws me another haymaker. A nodule on my thyroid was found to be “suspicious” upon biopsy. A new-fangled molecular test indicated probable malignancy. WHAT? Two cancers in six months? YOU CANNOT BE SERIOUS!

You’d think with practice, I would have responded more favorably this time around—with more resilience and fortitude. I’d survived my cancerous prostate. Surely I could do the same with my thyroid.

WRONG! The same doubts and fears and tears of pain came crashing down again—I was a basket case. The wuss in me had returned with a vengeance.

Once again, there was speculation and worry—some pretty dark nights of the soul fearing the worst. Prayer warriors were summoned again, and on July 11^th, I went back under the knife at Good Samaritan Hospital under the capable hands of Dr. David Sloan to have the right lobe of my thyroid surgically cut out.

Surgery is never fun, but at least this time, there was no catheter involved—and for the first time in my lifetime, my annual insurance deductible had actually been met. THAT was intensely satisfying, but the ensuing days waiting for the pathology report were interminable. When Dr. Sloan finally gave me the good news the other day—that the tumor was BENIGN—relief washed over me. Actually, it was more like waves of ecstasy. I had bucked the odds. It was the proverbial new lease on life—like the Laettner shot or the Wisconsin loss mercifully wiped from the memory banks forever.

Despite my good fortune, tough challenges still lie ahead. I’ll have to monitor my thyroid levels for the rest of my life—just like I’ll have to continually check my PSA levels for any prostate cancer recurrence. Those relentless cancer cells are always lurking, looking to crash your party when you least expect it. Cancer sucks. Awaiting those test results sucks almost as much.

The real question is this, though. What have I learned from all of this?

Most of all, I’ve learned compassion—compassion for the multitudes of cancer patients and their families. The mental anguish of dealing with these diseases is nearly as devastating as the physical challenges. Those who are suffering covet our encouragement, support, and prayers. You CAN get through this.

The other thing I learned is that life just seems so random. There’s suffering all around us. Good people we care about get sick and die. Disasters happen. On the surface, life just seems so blatantly unfair.

But when I dig deeper, I’ve discovered that life can also be intensely meaningful—designed to be lived to the fullest, and endlessly savored. I’m not sure why it took me this long to discover this basic truth. It seems so simple and straightforward. But if two back-to-back health scares within a six-month period is what it took to get my attention, then I’m eternally grateful that I went through the trials.

Finally—Guys, get your PSA levels checked on an annual basis. Monitor your thyroid periodically. Take care of your bodies. Find good doctors and listen to their advice. Remember that not all fancy schmancy medical tests are a hundred percent accurate. Pray. Love life. Love one another. And above all, keep the faith. Miracles do happen—even to wusses like me.

Dr. John Huang is a retired orthodontist. He currently serves as a columnist for Nolan Group Media and Sports View America. If you enjoy his writing, you can follow him on Twitter @KYHuangs.

Derby Sober

(LOUISVILLE, Ky.) – Truth be told, the Kentucky Derby really isn’t about the horse race. What really captures one’s imagination is the spectacle of the entire Derby Day experience. Oh sure, history will note that Country House won the 145^th annual “Run for the Roses” after Maximum Security was disqualified for interference. But the real memories of the first Saturday in May always fall back to the pageantry, the traditions, and the pomp and ceremony taking place in and around the race itself.

“It’s a great moment,” said winning jockey Flavien Prat. “It’s a dream come true…it’s amazing. I mean, there’s no race like the Kentucky Derby. And I was hoping to ride it, ride the Derby, and to win it.”

Few venues in the sporting world dare to rival the iconic twin spires of Churchill Downs. The ivy at Wrigley Field, Notre Dame’s Touchdown Jesus, or the Green Monster at Fenway you say? Those are decent choices, but they usually conjure up images of specific teams or season-long events. You show anyone a picture of those quintessential Churchill steeples, however, and all thoughts zoom directly to the Kentucky Derby. For one specific day out of the year, the entire sporting world focuses on our little corner of the Bluegrass State—our ultimate claim to fame. For you see, it’s not the regal, four-legged, three-year-old thoroughbreds that make for the most exciting two minutes in sports—but rather the bourbon, the burgoo, and the big hats that end up capturing our fanciful imaginations.

I grew up in the Commonwealth, but this is only my second official Kentucky Derby—my first as a credentialed media member. Like your first dog, your first car, or your first wife, it’ll forever be hard to top the sentimentality of that initial experience.

https://huangswhinings.com/2016/04/21/kentucky-fried-derby

But being part of the press corps this time around definitely has its advantages. As a scribe for Sports View America, I’m getting in for free.

According to StubHub, the Derby’s not cheap. A general admission ticket for a spot in the infield usually runs you eighty bucks—an option I wouldn’t recommend, unless you’re someone under thirty with a bon-a-fide death wish. Want to upgrade? A decent seat in the grandstand will likely set you back three to four hundred dollars. If you really want to waste your money, try Millionaires Row—where for a cool six grand, you’ll likely rub elbows with celebrities like Tom Brady, Jennifer Lawrence, or one of the Kardashians.

Speaking of celebrities, the Derby’s really just a glorified fashion show. Both sexes dressed to the nines—or tens for that matter. Seersucker suits, oversized fascinators, and hideous hats grace the walkways. It’s at events like the Derby when you suddenly realize that one man’s fashion is another man’s clown suit. Regardless of perspective, you can dress like a bum if you’re a member of the media. No need to spring for outlandish suspenders or Gucci shoes. Faded jeans, a flannel shirt, and that prized credentialed lanyard hanging around your neck will get you up close and personal to the horseflesh at hand.

Parking, food, and accessible toilets are additional media perks for me this year. Unlike before, I’m not paying thirty bucks for a two-mile hike to the track with porta potty privileges along the way. Instead, I’ve got a reserved spot in the media lot, just a short jaunt to the hallowed front gates. Once inside, I’m treated to quite the spread at the Derby day media buffet. Meats, salads, and desserts all laid out for you to grab and go. No alcohol, though. If you want a sip of that $15 mint julep, you’re on your own. Which begs the question: Can you really enjoy the Kentucky Derby if you’re completely sober? I’m about to find out.

Everyone at this Derby appears just a tad bit tipsy. It’s one big party—and who doesn’t enjoy being the life of the party? Even so, there are two lines of inebriation you simply can’t cross. Don’t get sick, and don’t get naked. Abstaining from liquid courage, I wisely avoided both—leaving the cookie tossing and wardrobe malfunctions to those far less inhibited.

You’d think bad weather would have discouraged some of the crowds today. That wasn’t the case as 150,729 filed in despite the chilly and messy rain. It made for some long and soggy lines at the betting windows—and even longer ones for the food kiosks and bathrooms. Often times, just walking around became a challenge. The pungency of the spilled liquor, grilled meats, body odor, damp air, and ubiquitous cigar smoke became noticeably more unpleasant as the day wore on. Looking around, trash piled up everywhere. The only thing messier was the postrace traffic—horrifically long shuttle waits, Uber lines, and jumbled backups tripling the usual time needed to get home.

Can you enjoy the Derby while sober? If you don’t like crowds, gambling, long lines, drunk people, sick people, loud people, bad traffic, bad weather, bad smells, bad internet, and bad steward rulings, then the answer is a resounding “NO!” But not all events in life are meant to be pleasant. It’s the unique experiences that we so often covet, and many aspects of the Kentucky Derby remain distinguishingly unique. The pre-Derby singing of My Old Kentucky Home is still one of the most sentimental and memorable experiences in all of sports.

When I asked winning trainer Bill Mott what the most memorable aspect of his Kentucky Derby experience was, here’s what he told me. “You know what I enjoy the most is just training the horses. I mean, that’s what I live for—get up in the morning, come out and see the horses…I woke up this morning and said “Oh (bleep), this is here. It’s finally here…When you finally reach a point when the training goes well, it’s actually very memorable. That part of it means the most to me.”

“…walking into that circle at Churchill Downs, it’s a pretty special event,” Mott continued. “Why do it the easy way, you know what I mean?”

Having just covered my first Kentucky Derby and seeing history being made, I know exactly what he means.

Dr. John Huang is lead writer for Sports View America. This column was featured in the Apr/May print edition of Sports View America Publications. If you enjoy his writing, you can follow him on Twitter @KYHuangs.

I Pledge Allegiance

“I pledge allegiance to the flag of the United States of America.” As an elementary school kid growing up in America in the 1960s, I recited those words a million times. Every morning, like clockwork—right after the opening bell and right before roll call—our entire classroom would stand at attention, facing the flag with hands over hearts, and solemnly affirm our fealty to the Stars and Stripes.

I guess I’m a bit of a traditionalist when it comes to the American flag and National Anthem. Call me idealistic, but I always thought they universally stood for such revered values as patriotism, loyalty, and freedom. They were symbols to be honored and respected—an homage to the democratic liberties inherent as a citizen living in the land of the free and the home of the brave.

Recent events, however, have taught me that not all Americans feel that way about the flag. The visible strife began in 2016, when quarterback Colin Kaepernick of the San Francisco 49ers began kneeling in protest during the playing of The Star-Spangled Banner. Over the next couple of years, his protest gained momentum as other NFL players joined him in solidarity. As recently as last week, the movement spread to a segment of the Ole Miss basketball team as they kneeled during the playing of the National Anthem prior to the tipoff of their game against Georgia.

So, what exactly were these players protesting? In Kaepernick’s case, it was allegedly a demonstration against racial injustice, social oppression, and police brutality, specifically towards people of color. The Ole Miss players were speaking out directly in opposition of a pro-Confederate rally being held simultaneously on campus as their game was being played. Surprisingly to me, all those kneeling apparently viewed the flag and anthem as representative of a country that allows such abominations to continue unabated. In their eyes, they felt obligated to speak out directly against an oppressive regime. Not only did they feel that protesting during the anthem was the right thing to do, they also knew it would draw unmatched visibility and attention to their plight.

Social injustice and oppression are extremely noble causes for which to protest. Inequality based on skin color and unmitigated hate need to be systematically wiped off the face of the earth. With that being said, I’m still not quite sure I understand why protesters continually choose to express their outrage against the backdrop of the American flag.

Regardless of what they feel the flag and anthem represents to themselves, surely they realize what it represents to the rest of America. When protesting a righteous cause, why go out of your way to tick off those who still believe in duty, honor, and country? Why alienate those who still regard the flag and anthem as symbols for which to fight and die for? I know the protesters have claimed that their actions are not meant in any way to be disrespectful to the military. Still, I know many are offended and will be needlessly distracted from the issue at hand.

As a United States Armed Forces Veteran, I was recently asked if I felt like those kneeling during the Anthem were “slapping me in the face.” No, I’m not offended, but just continually puzzled by their actions due to the reasons stated above.

To me, the United States of America has always symbolized two things: land of opportunity and freedom of expression. Regarding the former, I’ve been fortuitously blessed. As first-generation Chinese immigrants, our family moved to the States in 1963 with little attached to our name. Through a relentless pursuit of education and an unwavering work ethic, we fulfilled the proverbial American dream and became productive citizens of this great country.

Regarding the latter—freedom of expression—it’s a beautiful thing that Americans take too often for granted. The kneeling protesters are free to do as they please. I certainly don’t agree with the manner in which they’re promoting their message, but I’ll agree to defend with my life their right to choose. As a matter of fact, I already did when I pledged allegiance to the flag of the United States of America.

Dr. John Huang is a retired orthodontist. He currently works as sports columnist for Nolan Media Group and Sports View America. If you enjoy his writing, you can read more at www.huangswhinings.com or follow him on Twitter @KYHuangs.

Bringing It!

I’ve always loved sports. The love affair began in the late-seventies when I was only eight years old. Back then, there was a TV show called Wide World of Sports. Some of you may even remember it. It was an iconic weekly sports anthology program that aired on the ABC network. It didn’t take long before host Jim McKay’s epic lead in on those memorable Saturday afternoon broadcasts became permanently ingrained in my youthful, sports-obsessed brain. “Spanning the globe to bring you the constant variety of sport…the thrill of victory…and the agony of defeat…the human drama of athletic competition.”

Yep, my brain loved sports, but my body wouldn’t cooperate. Whether tossing a football or a frisbee, playing baseball or badminton, skating or swimming—I tried my hand at everything. The reality was that I just wasn’t very good at any of it. As much as I longed to be an All-Pro wide receiver in the NFL someday, prudence took over, and I became a dentist instead. Through all the subsequent years of drilling, filling, and billing, I never lost my hunger for the human drama of athletic competition.

So, after a lucrative career as an orthodontist, I’ve retired to the not-so-lucrative world of sports writing. You might say it’s a homecoming of sorts—combining my passion for writing with my love of the game. Thus far in my new career, I’ve already found myself in some ridiculously improbable situations. From the awesomeness of sitting courtside with Dickie V at the SEC Basketball tournament to the utter misery of the losing locker rooms after an NCAA Final Four, from interviewing NFL superstars at the peak of their profession to chatting with minor league dreamers just looking to eke out a decent living, from press conferences with Nick Saban and Mike Krzyzewski to being stared down by Marvin Lewis after another Bengals debacle, from the Greatest Spectacle in Racing of the Indy 500 to the Greatest Two Minutes in Sports at the Kentucky Derby—I’m soaking it all in as I literally live out my dream.

Being able to go behind the ropes—for free, no less—gives one not just a sense of privilege, but of a sacred responsibility to report back to those on the other side of the curtain. Access to these events and the athletes who participate in them instills a sense of intimacy between the reporter and the reported that’s hard to describe. Watching Rafa Nadal tipping his limo driver after a hard-fought tennis match or walking with Chip McDaniel’s parents as their son makes the cut in his professional golfing debut is poignantly surreal. Roy Williams crying, Rick Pitino lying, or John Calipari sighing peels back the often-fragile outer veneers of these larger-than-life personalities. We quickly learn that there’s always a human-interest story buried somewhere within every whitewashed tomb. Through it all, hopefully we’ll all eagerly agree that sports are much, much more than the scores or the stats posted at the end of a long-forgotten box score.

You’ll certainly be getting all those scores and stats, but through my stories, you’ll be getting something much more valuable. You see, I’m going to be taking you along for the ride—giving you a perspective couched in a half century of love and respect for the game. As a recent guest on a podcast with the legendary Kentucky sports guru Oscar Combs, it dawned on me that you can’t fake either history or experience as a sports fan. I’ve got both on my side, and I’m planning on sharing it with you in my musings and writings.

In this inaugural Sports View America print edition, I want to introduce you to a couple of talented writers who’ll be chiming in regularly with their unique viewpoints of the sporting world. Together, with the rest of our ever-growing staff, we’ll do our best to bring you intriguing stories full of original content and creativity. Check out Jeff Pendleton’s feature story this month on the whimsical nature of the ‘ABA’ or his thoughts on the iconic home of the Kentucky Basketball Wildcats—Rupp Arena. If you’re an auto racing fan, you’ll delight in Grant Sorrell’s detailed analysis of this year’s upcoming NASCAR events.

Whether Super Bowl or Citrus Bowl, World Series or Wimbledon, The Masters or Monday Night Football, I’ll be there “bringing it” for Sports View America—giving you a front row seat at every athletic venue, as well as diving into the heart, mind, and soul of the competitors within them. You’ll hear the roar of the crowd, feel the swish of the net, and taste every morsel of that tailgate brisket along the way. In the end, I guarantee—whether bird’s-eye view or bullseye through the heart—you’ll feel first-hand the hauntingly familiar thrill of victory and the brutally torturous agony of defeat. I hope you enjoy it as much as I do. For everyone taking the time to read, thanks so much for hopping on board.

Dr. John Huang is the lead writer for Sports View America. This blog posting appeared in the inaugural edition of the outlet’s print publication. If you enjoy his writing, you can read more at www.huangswhinings.com or follow him on Twitter @KYHuangs.

Check out his most recent UK Sports coverage at http://www.themanchesterenterprise.com/category/uk-live-breathe-blue/

Eating Scripture

When I was eight years old, my older sister Mary gave me a New Testament Bible for my birthday. I’d be lying if I told you I loved it. Heck, I was a kid—I would have much preferred a football for that matter. I’d also be lying if I told you I read that “Good News for Modern Man” Bible cover to cover. Nope—I tossed it away, together with all my worn-down number two pencils, comic books, jettisoned paper clips, and other “worthless” paraphernalia discarded in my moldy desk drawer.

Even as a teenager, I never got around to reading that Bible. I had added to my collection by then, “borrowing” a copy here or there from a random hotel room nightstand. Oh sure, I’d read an occasional passage—courtesy of the Gideons—but usually only as a last-minute assignment for my Sunday School class so I wouldn’t be totally embarrassed when called upon. Truth be told, I hated everything about Sunday School and church—having to get up early, slipping on polyester pants, and sitting in uncomfortable pews listening to a sermon I neither understood or even wanted to hear in the first place. I still get sleepy just thinking about it.

Reading Scripture was the last thing on my mind during college and dental school. After all, there were parties to attend and sports to watch, periodic tables to memorize and exams to pass. I didn’t have time to waste reading something so remotely abstract, or equally difficult to understand, or so downright boring. The Book of Leviticus? You gotta be kidding me!

It wasn’t until I entered the Army that I really developed an interest in God’s Word. They say there are no atheists in foxholes. Well, there’s also nothing like being bored out of your mind while stationed overseas with no access to TV channels or the internet. In fact, back then there was NO internet. With limited resources at the post library, I finally got around to reading that Bible.

Boy, did I read it. I dived right in. Old Testament, New Testament—got through all 66 books in about 6 months. Along the way, I discovered something I thought was pretty neat. That Bible I had read wasn’t just a random collection of weird narratives, exotic poetry, and wise sayings—rather it was a beautifully crafted story—God’s personal story directed at me. It was a story chock full of intriguing plots, seriously flawed characters, and symbolic settings—often as titillating as any best-selling Sydney Sheldon novel. I was suddenly hooked, and I couldn’t let go.

The years since then have been a bit of a roller coaster ride. There’ve been seasons where I’ve been extremely disciplined and faithful in my reading and study. There have also been occasional periods of drought. Not just drought—but serious doubt about the truth and veracity of what I was reading. The eternal questions of why good people suffer, of the proliferation of evil, or the ever-present tension between truth and grace was simply too hard for me to reconcile between my earning a living, raising a family, and my relentless pursuit of idols. Could this tattered, leather bound manuscript really be the inerrant, divinely inspired Word of God? My mind said “no,” but my heart said, “maybe.”

So what’s happened since then? Have I finally seen the light, or have I gone the way of heretics past? I’m afraid you’ll have to wait to find out. Here’s a hint though—you see, I’m going to be leading an upcoming class where we’ll be talking about the Good Book. The name of the class will be called Eating Scripture—the premise being that we need to be as hungry for God’s Word as we are for a good bone-in rib-eye steak. Like my dog devouring his kibble, we need to develop a passion for gobbling up Scripture.

As a prerequisite, we’ll explore what the Bible is all about and how it came to be. We’ll touch on some of its recurrent themes and how best and if we should apply them to our personal lives. We’ll build upon each other’s experiences and—hopefully after our time together—we’ll all be a bit more knowledgeable and well-informed about Scripture in general. But most importantly, my hope and prayer is that through these sessions, you’ll develop a love, passion and HUNGER for reading God’s Word—that same passion that God has so divinely and preveniently placed on my heart.

I guess my secret’s out. I can’t wait to share more of it with you. Won’t you please join me?

Dr. John Huang is a former orthodontist, enjoying his time in retirement writing about sports and about other various and sundry aspects of life. If you enjoy his writing, you can read more at www.huangswhinings.com or follow him on Twitter @KYHuangs. He doesn’t really read Sydney Sheldon novels.

His “Eating Scripture” class will begin on Wednesday, January 16, 2019 at 6:30 pm in Fellowship Hall, Centenary United Methodist Church, 2800 Tates Creek Road, Lexington, KY 40502. It will run for seven consecutive Wednesdays through February 27. Everyone is welcome and encouraged to attend at their own risk. For more information, please visit Centenarylex.com for more details about Wednesday Night activities.

Check out John’s most recent UK Sports coverage at http://www.themanchesterenterprise.com/category/uk-live-breathe-blue/

Check out his most recent Cincinnati Bengals and other professional sports coverage at http://www.bluegrasssportsnation.com/category/writers/john-huang

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