Don’t You Dare Trash Our UK Degrees

Today was a big day.

My nephew, Griffin Shively, walked across the stage at the University of Kentucky commencement ceremonies. Not only did he officially extend the growing line of Huang Family academic nerds, but he also followed in the hallowed footsteps of my dear old dad with a coveted engineering degree. Needless to say, the whole family is quite proud of Griffin.

There’s been a lot of talk over the years about the value of a college education—especially one from the University of Kentucky. As someone who spent eleven years chasing after a bachelor’s, master’s, and doctorate degree from my beloved alma mater, I feel uniquely qualified to set the record straight.

Remember when former Wake Forest center Olivier Sarr was considering a transfer to Kentucky? Demon Deacon head coach Steve Forbes started a firestorm by posing the question, “Why would you want to go to Wake for three years and then graduate from a place like Kentucky?”

Of course, Forbes was just trying to be cute…and I thought his quip was humorous. Unfortunately, it just wasn’t true.

During my decade in the military, I worked side by side with individuals with degrees from all different institutions of higher learning, and I’ll put my UK diplomas up against any of theirs. My education at the University of Kentucky served me as well or better than anything Wake Forest, Duke, or any of the Ivy League schools could dish up for that matter. When you throw in the value my parents received for in-state tuition, an argument could be made that I finished head and shoulders above any of those elitist snobs.

For athletes headed for professional glory, where they get their degrees really won’t matter. After all, they’ve got their sights set on that lucrative NBA or NFL contract. But for the rest of us—for the hardworking students and student-athletes who graduated this week—that University of Kentucky degree represents years of sweat equity and life-changing opportunity.

In the high-profile college sports of basketball and football, the value of an athletic scholarship frequently gets taken for granted. A half million dollars’ worth of room and board, books, top-flight medical care, academic counseling, first-class travel, fancy hotels, and gourmet food can easily get lost against the backdrop of potential money gained from name, image, and likeness. Throw in future earnings at the next level—and for someone like Otega Oweh and his rising basketball superstardom—the world truly is their oyster.

But for the rest of us regular folk, a college degree can make all the difference between financial success or failure. I don’t care how fast you can run or how high you can jump, student-athletes who remain serious about academic performance and grades will ultimately be rewarded seventy times seven.

Despite all the hullabaloo surrounding NIL and Pay-for-Play, my UK degrees remain my life’s most valuable assets.

So, congratulations are in order for all the UK students and student-athletes receiving their degrees during this academic year. They’re all in possession now of that treasured blue sheepskin.

Each and every one of them graduating from “a place like Kentucky.”

Well, I’ve got news for Coach Forbes. As one of my dental school instructors used to tell me, “It doesn’t matter which bus you ride, it’s the destination that’s important.”

We all punched our ticket on the Big Blue Bus. Griffin and I plan to keep riding for a long, long time.

Dr. John Huang is a retired orthodontist, military veteran, and award-winning author. Currently serving as a columnist for Nolan Group Media, he invites readers to follow him on social media @KYHuangs. For more whimsical and opinionated posts like this, be sure to check out his latest book project, “Whining for Posterity.” Explore his debut novel— “Name, Image, and Murder”—and all his books at https://www.Amazon.com/stores/Dr.-John-Huang/author/B092RKJBRD

YMCA Blues: He is Risen—And So Is My Blood Pressure

Young man, there’s no need to feel down
I said, young man, pick yourself off the ground
I said, young man, ’cause you’re in a new town
There’s no need to be unhappy

With all due respect to the Village People, I am by no means a young man—but I’ve nevertheless fallen head over heels for my local Y.M.C.A. These days, I’m practically living at the Beaumont branch. Now that I’m retired and officially in the Medicare club, I get free membership with my supplement plan. And boy, have I been milking that perk for all it’s worth.

On most weekday mornings, you’ll find me at the “Y” for a solid three hours. I’ve got my routine down pat—40 minutes of cardio on the treadmill or elliptical, a 50-minute weight training class, and then an hour of stretching and mobility work through either Mat Pilates or Yoga. And you wonder why I can eat like a horse and not gain an ounce. Truth be told, I’m leaner, meaner, and more flexible than ever. For the first time in my life, I can touch my toes without bending my knees. Woohoo!

In addition to all the physical benefits, I’ve also come to enjoy the social interactions that come with my membership privileges. The Beaumont staff are always super friendly, and there’s definitely something uplifting when engaging with fellow like-minded retirees who prioritize their health.

After having said all that, there is one teeny-tiny beef I have with the Y. Actually, it’s not so itsy-bitsy in my mind. Honestly, it’s a HUGE, GARGANTUAN beef. It drives me so crazy that I’m in the midst of a one-man crusade. At the minimum, the perpetrators should be sentenced to an eternity of endless burpees or sent to a silent yoga retreat in Siberia. Just thinking about their egregious offenses has sent my blood pressure soaring.

By now you’re undoubtedly thinking, I’ve got some serious issues—but here’s my complaint: Too many idiots are breaking the Y’s noise regulations.

Let me explain. Displayed prominently throughout the facility are the YMCA’s fitness floor behavioral guidelines.

Guideline No. 4: Please use courteous phone etiquette by refraining from loud phone conversations. Avoid using your cell phone while on equipment or resting on the machine between sets.

Guideline No. 6: Please use earbuds or headphones when listening to personal music devices.

Seems simple enough, right?

And yet, every single day I bear witness to the same recurring crimes against humanity: Loud phone calls about drama at work. YouTube videos blaring at 120 decibels. Full-blown coffee shop conversations between neighbors on side-by-side treadmills. Huffing, puffing, coughing, grunting—all of it flooding across the floor like a bad case of uncontrolled diarrhea.

Okay, I know it’s totally irrational for me to go apesh*t when I see someone committing blatant violations. I understand that they’re just guidelines. But for whatever reason, I just can’t restrain myself.

Look, I enjoy a warm hello and the occasional life update as much as the next guy. If it’s been a while since we’ve connected, by all means, tell me about your grandkids or your latest trip to Palm Springs. I don’t even mind updates regarding your most recent hip replacement. But let’s not turn a public gym into your personal podcast studio. I’m not your therapist or your captive audience. I’m trying to meditate, to breathe, to recite God’s word and memorize Scripture.

The treadmill, for me, is holy ground. Not only am I cruising in my target heart rate zone, but I’m also fine tuning my mind. I can’t focus and concentrate if you’re shamelessly regurgitating out loud.

Hey, I get the irony. Not very Christian of me, you say. I don’t care. Rules are rules! NO TALKING! OBEY OR GET OUT!

I know, I know—ranting about cell phone etiquette hardly seems like the path to holiness. But even in the gym, spiritual discipline matters. And wouldn’t you know it, the Bible has a few things to say about loud mouths and loose lips:

“Everyone should be quick to listen, slow to speak and slow to become angry, because human anger does not produce the righteousness that God desires.” –James 1:19-20

“When words are many, transgression is not lacking, but whoever restrains his lips is prudent.” –Proverbs 10:19

“But no human being can tame the tongue. It is a restless evil, full of deadly poison.” –James 3:8

“Whoever guards his mouth preserves his life: he who opens wide his lips comes to ruin.” –Proverbs 13:3

“The words of the wise heard in quiet are better than the shouting of a ruler among fools.” –Ecclesiastes 9:17

Okay, I feel better now. I’m good.

So, this Easter, whether you’re in church or at the gym, may your spirit be renewed, your phone silenced, and your neighbor blessedly quiet. He is risen—hallelujah! Now please, for the love of all things holy…

Stop talking on the treadmill.

Happy Easter.

Dr. John Huang is a retired orthodontist, military veteran, and award-winning author. Currently serving as a columnist for Nolan Group Media, he invites readers to follow him on social media @KYHuangs. Explore his debut novel— “Name, Image, and Murder”—and all his books at https://www.Amazon.com/stores/Dr.-John-Huang/author/B092RKJBRD

Dear Duke Basketball

We feel your pain. Really, we do.

After all, as die-hard Kentucky fans—we’ve been there. We’re all too familiar with having our national title hopes strewn like shattered glass across the Final Four floor. We’ve seen the movie several times before—the one where the best team, with the best players, and all the media hype in the world, suddenly and shockingly crumbles into a tragic heap of nightmarish disbelief.

So many times, we’ve also been anointed prematurely. Crowned before the coronation. Celebrated before the ceremony. And then left to watch—stunned and slack-jawed, humiliated and embarrassed—as the dream slipped away and the rest of the world rejoiced.

So yes, we feel for you, Duke fans.
But make no mistake—we’re also laughing at you this morning. At least just a little.

Because it couldn’t have happened to a more deserving program.

Oh, I know. That’s petty. That’s small. That’s un-Christian. “You’re living rent-free in our heads,” you say.

That may all be true.
But c’mon—this is Duke University we’re talking about.

Ever since Laettner hit the shot, you’ve been the villain in our college hoops drama. You stole our titles back in 2010 and 2015. You—with your haughty, self-righteous air of academic superiority—deserve exactly what you’re getting. Your smug alumni looking down from their elitist Gothic towers in Durham while we wallow in our fried chicken, cigarettes, and toothless grins.

And now this.

Comfortably up by 14 points with eight minutes to go, and you manage just one field goal the rest of the game—losing to Houston 70–67 in the national semifinals. The laughingstock. The punchline. The greatest Final Four choke of all time.

So what now?

You mope about. You avoid ESPN. You dread “One Shining Moment” and try to convince yourselves that next year will be your year.

(Spoiler: It won’t be.)

But take heart, for this too shall pass. Time, as they say, cures all wounds.

We know the feeling. The second-half shooting debacle versus Georgetown in 1984? We’re coping. The shot-clock violations versus Wisconsin in 2015? Scarred, but functional. Saint Peter’s and Jack Gohlke? Perplexed, but no longer in despair.

So join us, Duke. Come sit beside us on this broken, blue-blooded bench of cold-hearted misery. Let’s swap stories about what might have been. We’ll tell you about 2015 if you tell us about 2025.

You see, for all your Ivy League aspirations and smug superiority, you’re not so different from us after all. Blue bloods with blue uniforms. Blue tears. Blue language from angry fans. And now, an equally blue postseason résumé.

The only real difference?

We’ve got eight championship rings.
You still have only five.

Respectfully,
BBN

The Epic Return

If Kentucky under Rick Pitino was Camelot—a kingdom of discipline, full-court pressure, and three-point barrages—then John Calipari’s Kentucky was Hollywood.

It was glitz, glamour, and one-and-done superstars walking the red carpet to the NBA. It was the biggest show in college basketball, headlined by a charismatic director who knew how to market his stars. There were blockbuster seasons (2010, 2012, 2015), shocking flops (Evansville, St. Peter’s, Oakland), and a script that, in the end, started feeling a little too familiar.

Like any Hollywood epic, it had its golden era, its sequels that didn’t quite measure up, and ultimately, an ending that unceremoniously flopped. But for over a decade, Big Blue Nation lived under the bright lights—forever in the hunt—hoping that every season could produce the next big championship hit.

Now, the cameras have moved on, the set has changed, and Calipari has left town. But on February 1, the former leading man returns to see if the audience still remembers his name.

Of course we remember. For 15 years, Coach Cal was the man in Lexington, patrolling the Kentucky sideline with designer suits, slicked-back hair, and a bottomless supply of “YOU PEOPLE ARE CRAZY” clichés. He promised the Big Blue Nation “we eat first,” and for a while, we did—four Final Fours, a national title, an undefeated regular season, and 25 NBA lottery picks will do that. But over time, the meals got smaller, the bill got bigger, and the chef started arguing with the waitstaff. When Mark Pope was handed the keys last April, many in the fan base felt relieved, a bit like ending a long-term relationship that had irreparably soured and gone stale.

But here’s the thing about breakups—closure is never real until you see them again.

So here comes Cal, rolling into town this weekend wearing red, looking like the guy who just bought a sports car after a midlife crisis. He won’t say it, but he’d love nothing more than to walk into Rupp, stick his hands in his pig-sooie pockets, and smugly strut out with a win.

The reception? Oh, it’s complicated.

If I were emperor of BBN, I would order a rousing standing ovation when Calipari is introduced. After all, the man deserves it. He’ll be in the rafters one day. The guy devoted 15 years of his life to the program, the university, and the community. Sure, he won a lot of ball games. But he also used his enormous platform to spearhead relief efforts wherever and whenever disasters hit, and people were hurting. On a personal level, he also wrote the foreword to two of my books. With the entire college basketball world looking on, how classy would it be if everyone stood and cheered.

There will be cheers because, let’s face it, he did bring home banner No. 8. There will also be boos, because 9, 10, and 11 never followed. Some fans will clap out of respect, others will heckle because they feel like the last four years were a hostage situation. And still others—perhaps the most honest among us—will feel an odd mix of nostalgia and irritation, like when you really enjoyed the movie but felt the ending royally sucked.

Tom Leach had a very insightful take when he appeared on the Round of Shots podcast earlier last week.

“He’ll get booed just like Rick did,” predicted the Voice of the Wildcats. “It’ll be a pretty strong chorus of boos I’d imagine. There’ll be some mixed emotions for Cal on that. If you’re in that situation and you’ve coached at Kentucky, you may be a little insulted if they didn’t boo you.”

With Calipari’s massive ego, that comment may just be spot on. So, let’s cheer at his intro. But as soon as the ball is tipped, we’ll boo until our heart’s content.

Whatever happens, one thing is for sure: February 1 is must-watch theater.

Because every Hollywood story gets a sequel—whether you want it or not.

Dr. John Huang is a retired orthodontist, military veteran, and award-winning author. Currently serving as a columnist for Nolan Group Media, he invites readers to follow him on social media @KYHuangs. Explore his debut novel— “Name, Image, and Murder”—and all his books at https://www.Amazon.com/stores/Dr.-John-Huang/author/B092RKJBRD

A Father’s Heart Smolders as California Burns

The Palisades fire, as seen from the roof of my daughter Katie’s Santa Monica condominium, has made the news seem all too real.

Natural disasters affecting those we know always hit closer to home.

Destructive tornados, devastating ice storms, and ravaging flood waters are frequent visitors to the citizens of our great commonwealth. As Kentuckians, we fully understand the impact Mother Nature has on the lives of our friends and neighbors, and we’re always quick to spring into action with helping hands, a much-needed donation, or loving hugs and prayers.

So, what do we make of these crazy fires out in California—these hundreds of acres that are burning as we speak out on the West Coast, which sometimes feels so far removed from our daily lives here in the Bluegrass.

Those of you familiar with my blog know that I’ve got some bona fide ties to Southern California. My daughter Katie and son-in-law CJ live in Santa Monica, I’ve got property in LA County, and I’ve kind of made the Los Angeles area part of my second home.

I’m well familiar with all the iconic landmarks, hiking trails, and neighborhoods and businesses that you’ve seen engulfed in a flaming Armageddon on CNN the past couple of nights. Of course, I’m worried about my condo burning down and not being around to sweep up the ashes, but my real angst lies in Katie and worrying about her safety.

You see, although she’s in her thirties and has always been about as independent as you can get, Katie’s still my little girl—and Daddy’s worrying while LA burns.

The fires are getting way too close for comfort. You wouldn’t think buildings located in such a densely populated area could combust so easily. I mean, it’s a literal concrete jungle with high rises, sidewalks, and endless miles of pavement. And yet, throw in some 70 mile-per-hour Santa Ana winds and a few rogue embers, and everything quickly goes up in smoke.

I feel for my daughter. To be honest, it’s always been tough having her thousands of miles away. I’ve always kind of envied those whose kids have stayed close to home. It’s one thing to call, FaceTime, and text, but sometimes you just need to drive down the street and wrap your protective arms around them—especially when potential disaster is looming.

Given the circumstances, Katie’s holding up as well as anyone could. She’s staying vigilant as the evacuation line creeps agonizingly close. With CJ in Denmark on business, Katie is packed and ready to move. She can easily spot the fires from the roof of their place, and this morning she can finally smell the smoke. It’s not horrible, but she says the air quality definitely sucks more than usual.

“I kind of don’t want to be alone,” Katie texted me earlier. “CJ needs to get back and suffer with me. How the heck did he get out of this?”

Through it all, I’m trying to remain calm and reassuring. Katie stayed with her friends, Mallory and Matt, last night. They feasted on pizza. CJ’s mom is also just a short drive away. Kanisa’s brother is also within shouting distance. There are plenty of options and escape routes available. I know she’ll use good judgment.

“It’s really sad how everything is burning,” Katie lamented on another text. “Crazy. I feel bad for the firefighters. They’re probably spread so thin. Fires popping up everywhere in the city.”

It’s too easy to distance ourselves from these disasters whenever they hit. As of this writing, let’s not forget that five people have died and thousands have lost their homes. I know that God uses adversity to draw us ever closer to him. When you’ve got skin in the game, you can’t help but get sucked in. After all, there’s no greater skin than your own flesh and blood. I guess some degree of worry is a part of parenthood that never leaves you.

For my devotional time this morning, I recited and meditated over one of my favorite memorized verses from the book of Isaiah.

“When you pass through the waters,
    I will be with you;
and when you pass through the rivers,
    they will not sweep over you.
When you walk through the fire,
    you will not be burned;
    the flames will not set you ablaze.”

– Isaiah 43:2

These words remind me that, no matter how distant or helpless I feel, God’s presence is unwavering. Just as He promises me comfort, I pray for His strength to guide all those firefighters, decision makers, and those affected by these devastating blazes. And please, Lord, take care of Katie and CJ.

Let’s all take a moment to reflect, pray, and, if possible, support relief efforts. The Red Cross or local fire recovery funds are always effective ways to donate. Together, we can help restore hope to all those affected in and around the City of Angels.

Dr. John Huang is a retired orthodontist, military veteran, and award-winning author. Currently serving as a columnist for Nolan Group Media, he invites readers to follow him on social media @KYHuangs. Explore his debut novel— “Name, Image, and Murder”—and all his books at https://www.Amazon.com/stores/Dr.-John-Huang/author/B092RKJBRD

Cats’ Meow: Ole Miss Smackdown

Dane Key (career-high eight catches for 105 yards) and Barion Brown (five catches for 88 yards) celebrate one of the most improbable upsets in Kentucky Football history. Photo Credit: Tres Terrell / Cats Coverage.

(ATLANTA, Ga.) – If you happened to hear some loud meowing coming from Oxford, Mississippi, this past Saturday, you weren’t mistaken. No, it wasn’t a new strain of southern Mississippi feline infestation—it was the Kentucky Wildcats who went prowling deep into Rebel territory and left with a purr-fectly thrilling 20-17 victory. And just like that, Big Blue Nation experienced the kind of upset that gives SEC elite sleepless nights and Wildcat fans reason to crowd surf and burn couches the rest of the week.

Okay, I have to come clean. I didn’t see the game. In fact, I couldn’t even keep up with it in real time. Ah, the joys of modern air travel. There I was, soaring above the clouds, trying to connect to the internet with the same desperation Mark Stoops mustered calling a 4th-and-7 deep in his own territory. My Wi-Fi was about as reliable as a Tennessee fan’s manners, buffering at every crucial moment. But even from 30,000 feet, the excitement of Kentucky’s monumental upset win over No. 6 Ole Miss somehow seeped through, giving me one of my top football fan moments of all time. I still think that Florida upset from a few years back was the biggest (I was there in person for that magical three-decade streak-buster). But this one—even in abstentia—comes in hot on its heels.

Rebel Yell Turned to Rebel Yawn

Here’s what I pieced together from my lofty perch in seat 16E. The stage was set for a party at the Grove. Ole Miss, the high-flying, swaggering Rebels, rolled in undefeated at 4-0, daring anyone to slow them down. They led the nation in scoring, they led in defense, they led in just about everything except humility—and let’s be honest, who needs that in football? But the Cats, sitting at a less-than-flashy 3-2, came to crash the party, with quarterback Brock Vandagriff in the starring role.

What Ole Miss hadn’t counted on was a night filled with bizarre twists and turns. The first possession went according to script with the Rebels slicing downfield like a hot knife through butter for a 7 – 0 lead. For Wildcat fans, this one was turning ugly early. But Vandagriff, who had previously been allergic to hot starts, responded in kind by leading Kentucky down the field on the Cats’ first possession, and what do you know? Points! A field goal to kick things off—a small victory that had many in BBN saying, “Not so fast, my friend.”

Kentucky’s Big Bet Pays Off

The rest of the game proceeded like a chess match, except Mark Stoops decided to channel his inner Lane Kiffin and go all riverboat gambler. With just over two minutes to go and the Cats facing 4th-and-7 from their own 20-yard line, Stoops said, “Why play it safe?” No more “Captain Conservative” label—he called the play to let it fly. Vandagriff did just that, connecting with Barion Brown on a stunning 63-yard bomb. A heave, a prayer, and suddenly, Kentucky had an opening.

Barion Brown—speedster extraordinaire—ran like he was tired of jet sweeps and with that one electrifying fly pattern, he set up the winning touchdown. Tight end Josh Kattus, atoning for a couple of previously dropped passes, grabbed a fumbled loose ball at the two-yard line and lunged into the end zone. It wasn’t exactly what you’d call textbook offense, but as every Kentucky fan knows, beauty in football is in the eye of the scoreboard.

Defense, Deliveries, and Desperation

Pay Brad White whatever he wants. The Rebels came into this matchup thinking they’d walk all over Kentucky, but instead, they got smacked in the mouth by a Wildcats defense that wasn’t having any of it. Octavious Oxendine roared like his namesake in the trenches, recording two huge sacks and living in the Rebels’ backfield rent-free. Then there was JQ Hardaway—he didn’t just come to play, he came to make life miserable for every Rebel who dared cross him, setting a career-high 11 tackles, and yes, forcing a fumble too. Deone Walker was Deone Walker—enough said.

Ole Miss was punting left and right, which is something they’re just not used to doing. Kentucky forced five punts on a team that had only punted four times in their previous four games combined. Can anyone say three-and out?

And speaking of kicking, there was Kentucky’s kicker Alex Raynor—Mr. Automatic—who’s quickly turning Kentucky into Field Goal U. Two more field goals extended his streak to a school-record 14 straight. Somewhere in the Bluegrass, Austin MacGinnis must have been raising a glass in salute.

Clutch Cats Close It Out

The game-winning drive had all the trappings of Kentucky drama—close calls, fumbles, and sheer, unfiltered joy. Kattus’ recovery and dive into the end zone with 2:25 left in regulation was the exclamation point. The kind of sentence that said, “Hell, yeah. Eat this, all you doubters who sold your season tickets after the South Carolina loss!” But with Ole Miss still breathing, it was J.J. Weaver, forever a fan-favorite and all-around game-wrecker, who had the final word, sacking Jaxson Dart and effectively shutting the door on Ole Miss’s hopes of a last-minute miracle. Their last-ditch field goal attempt shanked embarrassingly wide, and Vaught-Hemingway Stadium fell into a stunned silence—the same stunned silence pouring out from the heart of Athens when a Kirby Smart-coached defensive juggernaut falls behind by four touchdowns.

History and Context, Whimsical and Wild

This was Kentucky’s first win at Ole Miss since the glory days of 1978. You heard that right—disco, polyester, and a young Mark Stoops with plenty of hair and no pot belly. Now, some forty-six years later, Stoops orchestrated his magnum opus—beating a sixth-ranked Ole Miss squad in their own house when nobody gave him a chance. It was Kentucky’s highest-ranked road win at an SEC campus stadium ever. Not at No. 10 Vanderbilt in 1947, and not even over No. 1 Ole Miss in Jackson in 1964—it’s this one. And for Mark Stoops, who’s now in his 12th year and building a statue one giant win at a time, this was his 12th-ranked victory, his highest yet, and perhaps his most whimsical of all.

The critics may say Stoops can’t win the big one, but if upsetting No. 6 Ole Miss on the road isn’t a big one, what is? Since 2018, Kentucky is 12-16 against AP-ranked teams—not the kind of record that gets engraved in marble, but for a program once synonymous with SEC cellar-dwelling, it’s nothing short of a revelation.

Enjoy it Cat fans.

I’m still flying above the clouds.

Dr. John Huang is a retired orthodontist, military veteran, and award-winning author. He currently serves as a columnist for Nolan Group Media. You can follow him on social media @KYHuangs and check out his debut novel—“Name, Image, and Murder”—and all his books at https://www.Amazon.com/stores/Dr.-John-Huang/author/B092RKJBRD

This post appeared first as a column for Nolan Group Media publications.

Heart Versus Head

Will Kentucky Football deliver fans a dream season or a heartbreaker? The heart thinks Coach Mark Stoops is headed for a magical ten-win campaign. The head says they’ll most likely hover around .500 (Photo Credit Dr. Michael Huang).

(LEXINGTON, Ky.) – It’s finally the end of August. Mercifully, for all the die-hard Kentucky football fans in the Commonwealth and beyond, that means talking season is over. Time for Stoops and crew to put up or shut up—to put behind them all the vacated wins, the “pony up” NIL comments, and the ill-advised courtship down in Aggieland—and start gearing up for another season of rampant expectations and stone-cold reality.

The coup-de-gras of talking season always involves bold and daring predictions about how the season will go. I’m no different in that regard. But this year, instead of plowing forward with prognostications from my big blue heart, I thought I’d also include those from my worry-addled head. It’s amazing how divergent the two can be.

Southern Miss, Ohio, Murray State, and Vanderbilt

These are the four teams on the schedule that both the heart and head readily agree on. Referred to by many as the “stinky” teams, they’re pretty much automatic wins. The heart thinks that Kentucky will win easily by thirty-point blowouts against all of them. The head is a little more cautious. After all, the Cats might let up a bit against inferior competition. And remember, Kentucky always manages to pull a stinker of their own every year. Nevertheless, all four of these games should be stat-padding confidence building wins for the boys wearing blue.

South Carolina, Louisville

These are two teams Kentucky should also be able to beat. They both take place in the friendly confines of Kroger Field against teams with comparable talent. The head fears that both opposing head coaches have a bit more to gain by taking down the Wildcats, but the heart is convinced that the home field advantage will be the ultimate difference maker. Fear not, then—Shane Beamer and Jeff Brohm be damned—both heart and head are predicting wins on these two critical swing games.

Tennessee, Texas

On the other end of the spectrum, both the heart and the head agree that the odds of pulling off victories in Knoxville and Austin are slim to none this year. As far as the Vols are concerned, Kentucky has only won once on the orange checkerboards in the last forty years. Some may say they’re long overdue. The heart and the head both say, “Nope.” Long suffering UK football fans understand it’s simply not going to happen.

As for the Longhorns, they’re the new sheriff in town. They’ll be ramped up for anyone sporting the SEC logo on their uniforms. Steve Sarkisian can coach, the game-day atmosphere will be off the charts, and the next to last regular season game most likely indicates the Cats will be limping to the finish line. Time to put both of these games in the loss column.

Georgia, Mississippi, Florida, Auburn

Here’s where the head and heart take radically different paths.

Most pundits have already anointed Georgia as league champs. Not so fast says the heart. It’s easier to get to the top than to stay on top. Plus, Brock Vandagriff will have something to prove against his former teammates. If the wonder-boy transfer is as good as they claim, September 14 will be the day the legend begins. KENTUCKY IN A MONUMENTAL UPSET. The head on the other hand says, “You’re nuts!” Kentucky has lost 14 in a row to Georgia, and Mark Stoops has never sniffed a victory against the Bulldogs in his lifetime. Not going to happen this year.

The Ole Miss game is certainly winnable, and the heart predicts a huge road conquest in Oxford. Kentucky nearly did it last time they paid a visit to The Grove. Unfortunately—says the head—Lane Kiffin’s squad will be better than advertised. They return a boatload of offensive firepower combined with one of the best transfer classes in the country. Enjoy the tailgating because you’re not leaving the Magnolia State with a “W.”

Kentucky has gained the upper hand on the Gators recently, winning four out of the last six. Coach Billy Napier’s hot seat will explode when the Cats make it five out of seven—thinks the heart. “Not going to happen,” says the head. Just like they say in the stock market—past performance is no indicator for future success. The atmosphere in The Swamp will be too hot to handle. According to the head, it’s heartbreak hotel for Kentucky fans making the trip.

This isn’t your daddy’s Auburn team—claims the heart. In fact, it’s not even close in regard to talent. Bo Jackson and Cam Newton are not walking through that door. Throw in a rabid home crowd and you should see some happy home revelers in the Bluegrass as Halloween approaches. But Auburn is still Auburn—cautions the head. Tradition matters. Plus, this has the makings of the aforementioned stinker game. It’s a huge letdown as the thump, thump, thump of basketballs reverberates and takes over.

So, there you have it. The heart claims 10 – 2 and a spot in the twelve-team playoffs. The head fears 6 – 6 and a consolation invitation to the Independence Bowl.

Whether it’s a magical playoff run all the way to Atlanta or a mundane trip to Shreveport, one thing’s for sure—Kentucky football fans will have plenty of reasons to keep their cardiologists (and psychiatrists) on speed dial. Buckle up BBN, it’s going to be one exciting ride.

See you along the way.

Dr. John Huang is a retired orthodontist, military veteran, and award-winning author. You can follow him on social media @KYHuangs and check out his debut novel, “Name, Image, and Murder” and all his books at https://www.Amazon.com/stores/Dr.-John-Huang/author/B092RKJBRD

This blog posting first appeared as part of Nolan Group Media publications.

Name, Image, and Murder

Have you ever been so engrossed in a book that the world around you fades away? For me, that’s the magic of reading fiction, especially action thrillers.

Transporting myself into a make-believe world through the pages of a good book relaxes and comforts me to no end. Whether it’s espionage, crime, horror, legal drama, or romance, if there’s action and intrigue, I’m all in.

Early on, Frederick Forsyth and Dean Koontz captured my imagination. Now, I find myself gravitating more toward the likes of Michael Connelly, David Baldacci, Daniel Silva, Harlan Coben, and Lee Child. Of course, I’ve hungrily devoured all of John Grisham’s works and still marvel at Greg Iles’ versatility. Inspired by their talent and success, I dared to dream of following in their footsteps.

Today, I’m happy to announce that my dream has come true. I’ve entered the sacred realm with my debut novel, “Name, Image, and Murder—The Court of No Return.”

In the hallowed halls of Praise The Lord University (PTLU), where the fervor of basketball and the sanctity of religious values intersect, a murder rocks the foundation of an institution seeking fame, glory, and salvation. “Name, Image, and Murder” peels back the layers of this captivating mystery, uncovering a tale of deception, ambition, and the high-stakes game played in the shadows of divine judgement.

At the heart of the story is the grisly demise of Coach William Gallucci, the larger-than-life figurehead of PTLU’s burgeoning basketball dynasty. His lifeless body, a canvas of violence, lies at the epicenter of a meticulously crafted narrative that intertwines the new-world order of college sports with the hypocrisy pouring forth from our religious institutions.

As seasoned, enigmatic, and sharp-tongued sports reporter Kyle Sexton unravels the threads of the murder, he discovers a web of scandal, betrayal, and the relentless pursuit of glory that transcends the boundaries of the game we love.

Intrigued yet?

I hope so because “Name, Image, and Murder” examines the collision between religion and sports—two areas in which I’m well familiar. At its core, the book is a riveting mystery thriller that explores the darkest corners of ambition, the consequences of unchecked power, and the ultimate price of salvation. Blending suspense, satire, and social commentary, it captivates from the first page to the explosive climax, challenging perceptions of fame, faith, and the often-tumultuous intersection between the two.

We’re all a product of our life experiences, so you might recognize personalities from my personal journey in the cast of compelling characters. In fact, you might even see yourself. Just remember, though, before you start making assumptions and casting aspersions my way—it’s all fiction, all make-believe, a product of both our overactive imaginations.

That’s part of what makes the book such a fun read. You don’t have to be a Kentucky fan, or even a sports fan to enjoy the ride. Just ask my daughter Katie—a much more accomplished author than me—who, after meticulously combing through the manuscript, gave her enthusiastic stamp of approval to her dear old dad.

My previous six books were non-fiction https://www.Amazon.com/stores/Dr.-John-Huang/author/B092RKJBRD , and I always envied the long lines of readers visiting fiction writers at book festivals. I told myself on those occasions, “I want what they’re having.” Now, here’s my chance.

I need your help to make “Name, Image, and Murder” a rousing success. Start by getting your copy here: https://www.amazon.com/dp/B0D76DGW6T.

Then, if you enjoy it, please leave a review, share it with friends, and join the conversation using #NameImageAndMurder. Let’s make this journey together by spreading the good word.

If you don’t enjoy it, I want to know why. Writing fiction is a completely new experience for me, and I want to get better at each step of the way. Katie tells me I need to brace for criticism. I’m ready for it. Nothing ventured, nothing gained.

Happy reading!

Back to the Future

Mark Pope and Coach Rick Pitino enjoying the good times after Kentucky’s 1996 Championship run (David Perry/Lexington Herald-Leader staff file photo).

(LEXINGTON, Ky.) – The old has gone, the new has come.

In his farewell video to Big Blue Nation, John Calipari graciously acknowledged that the Kentucky basketball program needed a change at the top. Many of you agreed with him. Postseason wins had dwindled. Fan morale was at an all-time low. After the disappointing results from the last four years, Coach Cal’s snarky quips and swaggy braggadocio had turned a bit stale for anyone still gullible enough to listen. It was indeed time for a new voice.

Exit Boss Hogg. Enter Mark Pope.

News that the 51-year-old former Wildcat was taking over as the grand pooh-bah of college basketball’s Roman empire first leaked out late on Thursday night. With Billy Donovan still considered a viable candidate, the quick decision caught many by surprise. In fact, the mere mention of Pope as a serious choice generated more outrage initially than any debate on gun control, abortion, or unisex bathrooms.

Twelve hours later, however, the mood magically shifted. Although a few dissenters stood firm—and the “fire Mitch Barnhart” sentiments remained as ubiquitous as ever—the rest of Big Blue Nation began buying in and circling the wagons. After all, Mark Pope was one of us—a product of the glory years of the mid-90s, when the name on the front of the jersey instilled an overwhelming sense of pride, accomplishment, and honor to anyone heard cheering in the commonwealth. Plus, unlike Dan Hurley and Scott Drew, the man wanted to be here. He coveted the job.

In addition, Pope could coach. His teams at BYU played an exciting brand of basketball that spread the floor, shot threes with impunity, and actually ran in-bounds plays. On top of that, Pope was smart—a Rhodes Scholar candidate who completed three arduous years of medical school before chucking it all to pursue his coaching passion. Who in their right mind does that?

Ringing character endorsements provided the crowning coup de gras. Former teammates dubbed Pope as the ultimate leader with an infectious positivity that could move mountains. His former college coach—known for a few scandalous indiscretions of his own—attested on video to Pope’s moral integrity and grit.

Through it all, one important question loomed: Could Pope recruit? Time will soon tell. But given the blue-blooded resources now at his disposal, I’d say the chances are excellent. A just-announced $4 million injection into the Big Blue NIL fund certainly makes success more probable. He’ll need every penny, though. After John Calipari flew the coop, the cupboard for next year is frighteningly bare.

Putting all that aside, here’s what’s most astounding to me. Pope’s hiring is more than just a changing of the guard. His blink-of-an-eye ascension to the throne has resulted in something extraordinary. It’s miraculously galvanized the entire fan base in one unexpected fell swoop, giving every citizen of Big Blue Nation a lifesaving shot of adrenaline just when they needed it the most. By handing Mark Pope the keys to the kingdom, we’ve reconnected with our glorious past and recaptured everything that was once true, right, noble, pure, and admirable about the program we all knew and loved.

Okay—I’ll admit it—I’ve undoubtedly tasted the blue Kool-Aid. But here’s the thing. I’m not quite swallowing it just yet.

Ultimately, Mark Pope will be judged on one thing only—national championships. Adolph Rupp garnered four of them before being forced into retirement in 1972. Since then, four of Rupp’s successors, Joe B. Hall, Rick Pitino, Tubby Smith, and John Calipari have added additional national titles to Kentucky’s trophy case.

Will Mark Pope be the fifth?

It’s a daunting question for a new hire right out of the gate—especially to one who hasn’t won a single NCAA tournament game. But it’s also not unfair to ask it under the circumstances. Because the bar is always set unreasonably high in the Bluegrass. Mind you, the program with the greatest tradition in the history of college basketball doesn’t hang banners for Sweet 16s or Elite Eights. You won’t find participation trophies for Final Fours.

Mark Pope knows all that. And yet, he’s still willing to forsake the comforts of Provo, Utah—where expectations are much more pedestrian—to plunge willy nilly into the soul-sapping vortex that awaits him back in Lexington.

“UK changed my life forever as a human being,” Pope said in his introductory statement. “The love and passion I have for this program, this University and the people of the Commonwealth goes to the depth of my soul.”

For that reason alone, all Kentucky fans need to rally behind him. I’m all in for now. And for the sake of the kingdom, you should be too.

Dr. John Huang is a retired orthodontist, military veteran, and award-winning author. This blog post was originally written as a sports column for Nolan Group Media publications. You can follow Dr. Huang on social media @KYHuangs and check out all his books at https://www.Amazon.com/stores/Dr.-John-Huang/author/B092RKJBRD

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