The Top Five Reasons NOT to Buy My Book

Let’s face it. We’re all inundated these days—with political propaganda, fast food coupons, and suspicious texts warning that your bank account’s been compromised. So when a washed-up orthodontist-turned-sportswriter announces his eighth book, your first instinct might be to mutter “bless his heart,” roll your eyes, and scroll on by.

But before you do, allow me—with all the humility I can muster—to present:

The Top Five Reasons NOT to Buy My New Book, Whining for Posterity: Life, Sports, and Other Things Worth Complaining About

Reason #5: You’ve Already Heard It All Before

Fair. At least the five people outside my immediate family who’ve read all my blogs, chuckled at my columns, and survived a few of my Facebook rants might think so. You know who you are.

You’re thinking, “I don’t need a bound compilation of recycled material cluttering up my coffee table.”

Touché. But this is the director’s cut. Whining for Posterity includes never-before-seen edits, timely updates, and slightly embarrassing bonus reflections by yours truly—organized into tidy little categories like “Life,” “Love,” “Politics,” “Religion,” “Travel,” and “Sports.”

Skip the spiritual stuff. Go straight to the football whining if that’s your thing. I won’t be offended.

Reason #4: You Don’t Like Complaining

Neither do I. That’s why I wrote a whole book about it.

Let me clarify: this isn’t just me griping about the Bengals’ play-calling or America’s healthcare system. It’s an honest, often humorous, occasionally heartfelt look at the little frustrations of life—and the big lessons hiding behind them.

Think of it as therapy, but with fewer co-pays and more Rick Pitino references.

Reason #3: You’re Holding Out for the Movie

Ah yes, the inevitable blockbuster. Picture it: Jackie Chan as me, Meryl Streep as my long-suffering editor, and John Calipari making a surprise cameo as himself.

Sadly, Hollywood hasn’t called. Yet.

So for now, your only option is to read the book. Don’t worry—it’s got plot twists, emotional payoffs, and enough laugh-out-loud moments to keep even the most distracted reader engaged. There’s something in it for everyone.

Best of all? It’s cheaper than a bucket of overpriced movie popcorn.

Reason #2: You Think I’m Just Trying to Make a Buck

Please. I’m a writer. If I wanted to make money, I’d still be straightening teeth.

Truth is, I’m donating all the proceeds from this book to charity. Not because I’m a saint—but because YOU are. Plus, I’d rather give the money away than explain to the IRS why I spent it all on road trips with the Wildcats.

So when you buy Whining for Posterity, you’re not just supporting me. You’re supporting a good cause—and giving yourself (or someone you’re regifting it to) a few laughs, a few tears, and maybe even a fresh perspective on this maddening miracle we call life.

Reason #1: You’d Rather Read John Grisham

Who wouldn’t? I’m no John Grisham.

But here’s the truth: Whining for Posterity isn’t a legal thriller. Nor is it just a collection of gripes and giggles. It’s a scrapbook of moments—some hilarious, some heartfelt—that remind us what really matters. Relationships. Family. Faith. Our dogs. The everyday absurdities that make life worth living.

At some point, we all start thinking about what we’re leaving behind. Not money or monuments, but memories, stories, and maybe a few lessons others can carry forward.

This book is my way of doing that. A little piece of my voice—whiny as it is—preserved for whoever wants to listen.

So no, you don’t have to read it. But if you do, I hope it makes you think a little more about your own legacy—the one you’re writing every day, whether you realize it or not.

Because whining, at its core, is just love in disguise. A love that refuses to let life pass by unnoticed.

So there you have it. Five completely legitimate, totally reasonable, utterly unconvincing reasons not to buy my book.

But if, despite all that, you feel compelled to grab a copy of Whining for Posterity, I won’t stop you. In fact, I’m thanking you now in advance. Flag me down and I’ll sign it for you—maybe even buy you lunch, or at the very least, offer a heartfelt “bless your heart.”

Whining for Posterity—available now on Amazon and wherever books silently judge you from your nightstand. Click here to purchase. https://www.amazon.com/dp/B0FDLCGR1P

#WhiningForPosterity
#BuyItAnyway
#ComplainingWithPurpose

It Still Means Something”: Why the Kentucky Brand Isn’t Just a Jersey

Kentucky players celebrating the name on the front of the jersey after their big 106-100 win over the eventual national champion, Florida Gators, in Rupp Arena on January 4, 2025.

(LEXINGTON, Ky.) – In an era where players are more likely to follow Benjamins than banners, where “NIL” has replaced “MVP” in the recruiting wars, and where the transfer portal spins faster than my dog doing zoomies, one might wonder—Does the name on the front of the jersey still matter anymore?

At his recent media conference held earlier this week, Kentucky Basketball head coach Mark Pope answered that question with a resounding, heartfelt yes. And this wasn’t just your typical lukewarm head nod. No, this was the type of yes that gives you chills. The kind that makes you want to lace up your Nikes, high five your portly neighbor, and run through the proverbial brick wall.

“It matters,” Pope said. “There’s nowhere like this.”

He’s not wrong. Kentucky Basketball isn’t just a brand. It’s the program with the greatest tradition in the history of the game. It’s a baptism together with a rite of passage wrapped up in eight NCAA championship banners, 61 NCAA Tournament appearances, and the most all-time wins of anybody still playing. It’s Joe B. and Jamal. It’s Wah Wah and Wall. It’s five national championships in five different decades and a fanbase that will passionately defend the honor of Farmer, Pelphrey, Feldhaus, and Woods like they’re…well…Unforgettable.

But in this new wild west of college hoops—where loyalty is traded for luxury and bluebloods can be outbid by programs with booster billionaires—it’s fair to ask: Does Kentucky still hold sway with this new generation of coddled, roundball mercenaries raised on highlight reels and endorsement deals?

Pope thinks it does. Scratch that—he knows it does. And surprise, surprise—his answer isn’t only about tradition for tradition’s sake. It’s about transformation, character, work ethic, and servant leadership. About what happens when you willingly pour yourself into something bigger.

“If you come in here not understanding or appreciating that,” Pope warns, “I think your chances of success are not very high.”

That’s not gatekeeping. That’s the gospel according to the Pope.

Because this place is different. It asks more of you. More than just your wingspan or your vertical or your TikTok follower count. It demands your heart. Your humility. Your willingness to dive for loose balls, to play through bruises, to pass up a good shot for a great one. To give your teammate the limelight just because he’s your teammate. It demands that you surrender just a little piece of yourself—not to lose your identity, but to elevate it.

And that’s where the magic happens.

“When you learn that concept—of if I give a little bit of myself, it actually elevates myself—that’s what’s great about this beautiful, brilliant team sport of basketball,” Pope said. “The pathway to become immortal is very different than this world wants to teach us.”

Mic. Drop.

Yes, kids today are soft. There, I said it. Many may be distracted by the siren song of short-term riches. But Pope isn’t recruiting kids who just want a wheelbarrow full of cash. He’s recruiting young men who want to matter and make a difference. Who’ll leave legacy footprints in the bluegrass that echo through the rafters long after they’re gone. People like Issel, and Goose, and Macy, and Walker, and Davis.

Think about it: Where else can you become immortal at the ripe age of nineteen? Where else does a walk-on get a standing ovation just for checking in? Where else can you go from obscurity to legendary in a single March weekend? Where can you be known simply for sporting a unibrow, girls kissing your car bumper, or wearing jorts for heaven’s sake?

That’s not marketing fluff put together by the suits at JMI. That’s lived experience. That’s legacy. And it’s now being passed down from generation to generation.

“Our guys last season set a beautiful, brilliant standard of what it means to be a Kentucky Basketball player,” Pope said. “We’re leaning on them a lot… their video, their outtakes, their clips, their comments—just to help understand that.”

Because—as former coach John Calipari famously said on so many occasions—Kentucky isn’t for everyone. And that’s precisely the point.

You can go be a great basketball player at a lot of places. Pope knows that. Heck, he’s played and coached in a few of them. But being great here? That’s a different kind of great. That’s statue-worthy great. That’s raise-your-jersey-to-the-rafters great. That’s can’t-walk-through-Kroger-without-grandma-taking-a-selfie great.

So yes, the name on the back may earn you the check. But the name on the front? That’s what earns you the chapter in Kentucky lore.

Mark Pope gets it. He lived it. And now, he’s preaching it. Loudly. Passionately. With a blend of fire and sincerity that makes you believe Kentucky Basketball hasn’t lost its way after all. It’s just waiting for the right kind of player to find theirs.

Because for all the bells, whistles, dollar signs, and distractions of this modern basketball age, one truth remains: This place is different.

And if you can understand that?

You’re going to be crazy successful.

Or immortal.

That’s the gospel truth. Sign me up, Coach!

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

This blog posting was first submitted as a column for Nolan Group Media publications.

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.

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

United We Stand, Divided We Fall

It’s high time for John Calipari to do the honorable thing (Dr. Michael Huang Photo).

(LEXINGTON, Ky.) – A house divided cannot stand.

Whether attributed to Abraham Lincoln or Jesus Christ, those are wise words—and Big Blue Nation should take heed.

After another demoralizing and embarrassing first-round flameout in this year’s NCAA tournament, the Roman Empire of college basketball finds itself hopelessly divided, poised on the precipice of a potential epic collapse.

In one corner are the staunch “Fire Calipari” proponents, claiming that the Hall of Fame coach has lost his fastball. The worst regular season in program history (9 – 16 in 2021), the worst postseason losses in program history (Saint Peters in 2022 and now Oakland in 2024), and one paltry NCAA tournament win in the last five years does not the Gold Standard make.

In the other corner are the loyal Coach Cal stalwarts. Despite the lack of recent postseason success, he’s still the best person for the job. Four Final Fours and a National Championship builds you a lot of equity. The man is still one of the best recruiters out there. Plus, look at all the charitable work he’s done for the community. Who’re you going to get that’s better?

So, we’re at a virtual impasse—hopelessly divided, right? A $33.3 million buyout of Calipari’s lifetime contract only adds to the existing quagmire. That’s not chump change, and the University of Kentucky—even if generous boosters come up with the goods—cannot afford to squander that amount of money just to cover up Mitch Barnhart’s horrific boo-boo.

How, then, do we unify and rally the fanbase? If Calipari stays on as coach, I’m afraid that simply wouldn’t be possible. From what I’ve gleaned in talking to fans and media alike, the atmosphere is just way too toxic. Expecting him to change his polarizing methods at this stage is simply wishful thinking on our part. Who’s coaching at Kentucky next year is a topic for another time. It just can’t be John Calipari.

The honorable thing would be for Calipari to graciously step down. When you’ve tarnished the empire’s reputation, it’s time to fall on your sword. But we know he’s way too proud and stubborn to do that. Plus, that wouldn’t be really fair to him. Both parties agreed to the financial terms in advance. Calipari loves money, and I doubt he’d settle for a penny less to just walk away.

Upon further review, perhaps the buyout isn’t as daunting as it first appears.

First of all, there’s an offset in the contract, meaning that if Calipari would get another coaching job somewhere else, his new salary would count toward the buyout. Even at 65 years old, I don’t think Coach Cal is ready to retire to his private island, watch Alaska shows, and play with his dogs all day long.

Secondly, we’re not talking about a lump sum payment. The buyout would be paid in monthly installments over the next five years. That’s certainly manageable in the university’s $6.8 billion mega budget.

The key, then, is to find a good compromise, one that allows both parties to save face and walk away feeling good. The university can’t be seen as pissing money away in an irresponsible fashion, while Calipari can’t lose out on the cash he thinks he was promised and deserves. In addition, any boosters paying Calipari to go away also expect and demand a good return on their investment.

What if the university or the boosters pay Calipari the full buyout amount and then Calipari agrees to donate a portion of it over to whatever charitable cause he wishes? That way, the university feels that money was actually put to good use—which it would be. Calipari gets what he’s owed, further enhances his charitable legacy, and rides off into whatever sunset he chooses under the good graces of a forever thankful UK fan base.

What distinguishes that UK fan base from all the other pretenders is our unbridled passion. What binds us together is our like-minded heritage and culture. We derive deep pleasure and satisfaction in having our identity tied in with the program—the program with the greatest tradition in the history of college basketball.

That tradition is slowly slipping away. It’s time for Mitch Barnhart and John Calipari to stop the bleeding. Lock yourselves in a room and either sing kumbaya or punch each other silly. But don’t come out until you’ve reached a tenable solution.

As die-hard Kentucky fans, the onus is on us also. Whatever Barnhart and Calipari decide, it’s important for Big Blue Nation to stick together, to circle the wagons, and to come back next year more passionate than ever.

“United we stand, divided we fall” is our state motto.

Now the legacy of our basketball empire depends on it also.

Zvonimir’s Jaw-Dropping Debut

(LEXINGTON, Ky.) – Attention College Basketball World: We interrupt your current season to bring you this special announcement. The program with the greatest tradition in the history of college basketball just delivered another “you’ve got to be kidding me” moment.

Considering the grand tradition that is Kentucky Basketball, you’d think these announcements might amount to a dime a dozen. But these declarations—manifested as iconic moments—are by definition few and far between. Because iconic moments are just that—archetypal, quintessential, seminal—occurring only once every decade or so.

Hatton’s halfcourt prayer, James Lee’s thunderous dunk, Padgett from the top of the key, Tayshawn from ten feet yonder. Full names and dates and descriptions not needed because the events themselves transcend the details. They’re all moments where we remember exactly where we were and what we were doing when Claude or Cawood or Tom described them so vividly.

And now add this one to your treasured archives: Zvonimir’s behind the back pass leading up to that glorious, mythical, magical, “THIS HAS TO GO IN” three-pointer by Antonio Reeves. Store it in there tight. Preserve it at all costs on your Mount Rushmore of Kentucky Basketball memories. Don’t let it ever dissipate or dissolve because you’ll repeatedly share that precious moment—through your own mist-filled eyes—with your children and grandchildren. You’ll nostalgically relive with friends and loved ones the joy and passion unique to us as privileged citizens residing in a proud and unified Big Blue Nation.

For those in winter hibernation who have no earthly idea what all this ruckus is about, I present to you Zvonimir Ivišić. Kentucky’s 7-foot-2 freshman took the floor for the first time and helped the eighth-ranked Wildcats cruise to a 105 – 96 smackdown of the visiting Georgia Bulldogs.

By the time the final horn sounded, Zvonimir (or Big Z as he’s affectionately known) had stuffed the stat sheet. The rising star from Croatia scored 13 points (on 5-of-7 shooting, 3-for-4 from behind the arc), grabbed five rebounds, had two assists, three blocks, and two steals in just 16 minutes of action. But it was the interminable delay in becoming eligible to even play that added to the overall magnitude of his heroics on the court.

For you see, Big Z waited patiently for nearly five whole months from the time he committed to play for the University of Kentucky before the big bad NCAA finally granted him clearance. The announcement, which came suddenly through an email from the clandestine smoke-filled back rooms of the NCAA compliance office, was met with joyful relief by everyone, including those in the Ivišić clan back home in Vodice.

“They were just too happy for me,” Zvonimir acknowledged after the game. “They couldn’t wait for me to play. They were praying to God every day that this day came.”

God answered their prayers with one of the greatest debuts I’ve ever witnessed in Rupp Arena. But historically speaking, where will we ultimately rank it?

Iconic moments are laudable and noteworthy because they represent something far greater than the play on the court. As fantastic as Big Z’s debut turned out, is it possible we’ll only elevate it into the pantheon of UK Basketball’s greatest moments if Kentucky wins a national championship?

I would say that’s debatable. Does anyone care that Tayshawn’s five three-pointers against North Carolina took place in a season that ended at the Sweet Sixteen? Do fans dismiss the lovable Oscar Tshiebwe and all his other-worldly rebounding feats of grandeur because his team got Saint Petered? Do we wipe out the accomplishments of Kentucky’s 1983 – 84 team—one of my personal all-time favorites—simply because they had one horrific half of shooting?

We all agree that iconic moments represent more than just a statistic or a final score. They’re compilations of multiple factors coming to a head. They take into account the stories behind the story—the relentless practices, the team camaraderie, the sacrifices involved in striving to be that championship caliber team.

But even more than that, these moments are deemed iconic because we as fans grant them iconic status. We get to be judge and jury, our feelings and emotions and participation in the moment every bit as important as the moment itself. Only time will tell. History will judge.

For the time being, then, let’s just all bask in Big Z’s iconic debut. For the time being, let’s watch it again and again on YouTube, replay it over and over in our minds. Let’s cheer, scream, and jump up and down like idiots as we all did in real time.

For the time being, let’s all eat, drink, and be merry. Dismiss those worries regarding Final Four droughts, defensive lapses, or mysterious “general soreness” injuries that linger.

And for the time being, just relish and enjoy every game…and thank God for answered prayers. Because for a couple of fleeting moments smack dab in the middle of college basketball season, Zvonimir Ivišić gave Kentucky Basketball fans a glimpse of heaven on earth.

Dr. John Huang is a retired orthodontist, military veteran, and the award-winning author of Kentucky Passion. He currently serves as a reporter and sports columnist for Nolan Group Media. 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

Kentucky Basketball’s Quest for Glory: Reclaiming the All-Time Wins Throne

Kentucky players celebrate another notch on the NCAA all-time wins leaderboard. It’s always good to be Number One! (Photo Credit Dr. Michael Huang)

(LEXINGTON, Ky.) –Second place is just the first loser.

I’m pretty sure the late, great Dale Earnhardt was referencing auto racing when he said it, but the above quote could just as easily pertain to Kentucky’s precarious position atop College Basketball’s all-time wins leaderboard.

For those who missed it, the Wildcats regained their vaunted status last month as King of the Hill when the NCAA placed Kansas on a three-year probation and vacated 15 of the Jayhawks’ wins from their 2017 – 2018 season. The Independent Resolution Panel discovered five Level I violations stemming from what the NCAA alleged to be an unfair recruiting advantage Coach Bill Self’s program had due to its relationship with Adidas.

Based on that 15-game swing, the blue-blooded Wildcats currently lead their counterparts from Lawrence by a scant seven wins. With last night’s 86 – 46 victory over New Mexico State, Kentucky’s victory total now stands at 2,378. Kansas, ranked No. 1 in the most recent AP poll (while also favored to win the national title this year), clocks in a close second with 2,371 wins. North Carolina (2,344), Duke (2,274), and UCLA (1,987) round out the top 5.

Historical perspective matters

Who cares, you ask? The answer is a lot of die-hard Kentucky fans do. National championships, Final Fours, and a slew of All-Americans notwithstanding, there’s still an enviable program pride in having more victories than everybody else on the planet. Regardless of the metric used, the minute James Naismith nailed those peach baskets up in the Springfield YMCA, notching as many victories as possible became the ultimate measure of success.

The University of Kentucky has been good at notching victories since the school started playing basketball 120 seasons ago. In 1948, the Wildcats won their first national championship under their legendary coach Adolph Rupp, and by 1968, the program had leapfrogged over Oregon State and Kansas as the winningest program around.

For the next 20 years, the Wildcats extended their lead over the rest of the college basketball world until the North Carolina Tar Heels made a serious run, surpassing the Cats in the total victory count by the end of the 1989 season.

The two regal blue bloods then jockeyed back and forth until Kentucky retook the lead for good after Rick Pitino’s championship run in 1996. The Wildcats would hold onto that lead for another two-plus decades until the Covid disaster in 2021 when they experienced their worst year in school history (9 – 16). That’s when Kansas took advantage and secured the mantle as the all-time winningest program just shortly before their scandalous cheating practices relegated them back to the first-loser status.

The most passionate fan base on the planet

Let’s face it. Kentucky fans are as passionate about being No. 1 as any other fan base in history. As I wrote in my book, Kentucky Passion https://amazon.com/dp/1684351669 , “It all stems from our heritage and culture. It’s that deep pleasure and satisfaction derived from having your identity tied in with the program—the program with the greatest tradition in the history of college basketball. Fans in other states cheer on their team. Kentucky fans are invested in their team and the program. There’s an ownership, kinship, and brotherhood that’s hard to explain. It’s like family—or as Kentucky Coach John Calipari calls it—La Familia. Once a Wildcat, always a Wildcat.

I’ve heard it explained this way. Kentucky is a small state. Other than bourbon, horses, and fried chicken, there’s not a whole lot about the Bluegrass State that citizens of the commonwealth can brag about. For many, life is a grind. The one thing we do know, however, is that we’re good at basketball. When Kentucky Basketball is relevant and competing for championships, life’s hardships just don’t seem to hurt quite as much anymore. Regardless of race, socioeconomic status, or political viewpoints, Kentucky fans have that common bond—an inherent passion to somehow will their team to victory and to let the rest of the basketball world know how much they care.”

Coach John Calipari’s perspective

I’m sure John Calipari feels the pressure of not being the coach who relinquishes the No. 1 crown. After all, no one wants to be the first loser. Coach Cal is adamant, however, about not wanting those records to be a distraction or burden for this particular team.

“Yeah, we want to do that,” Calipari acknowledged when asked the importance of remaining No. 1 in all-time NCAA wins. “We want our fans to take pride in what we have been able to do. The other side, I don’t want them to have to compete with a five-year period [2010 – 2015] that was like maybe never done before and then try to compete against that. Or compete against something else.”

Kentucky players’ perspective

If Calipari is worried about the program’s exalted status being a detriment to his players, he need not be. Sure, players play for Calipari because they think he can get them to the NBA. But being a part of the program with such a rich and glorious history has its definite perks also.

“That’s an honor,” star freshman guard D.J. Wagner said when asked about upholding the glorious tradition of being No. 1. “Being able to step on that court behind all the great players and great teams that came through here. Just be out there with my guys and for us to be able to do something like that—that’s an honor for sure.”

“It’s a blessing,” countered Rob Dillingham, Wagner’s fellow freshman backcourt running mate. “We want to win as many games as we can. We’re not going to think about that, but we’re going to keep winning. That’s what we’re going to do for sure.”

Well, there you have it. An honor and a blessing. This team doesn’t seem to be running from program history—they’re embracing it, as they should.

Perhaps Reed Sheppard—another uber talented freshman whose father, Jeff, played on both of Kentucky’s 1996 and 1998 championships teams—said it best. “It’s really cool,” is how he described being part of the all-time winningest program. “That’s why you come to Kentucky. You know it’s the best—everything’s the best about Kentucky. To be able to do that and doing it with the people that I love, and with my teammates, and the great coaches—it’s really, really fun.”

For now, Kentucky remains No. 1 on college basketball’s all-time wins tote board. Neither Wagner nor Dillingham, however, knew who the first loser at No. 2 was.

“Kansas,” Sheppard calmly interjected with a wry smile.

It just so happens that Kentucky and Kansas play each other next week in the Champions Classic in Chicago. The Jayhawks—like everyone else—will be gunning for No. 1.

“Let’s just compete against ourselves,” Calipari pleaded. “And let’s see how good we can be.”

Dr. John Huang is a retired orthodontist, military veteran, and award-winning author. He currently serves as a freelance reporter and sports columnist. He is the author/coauthor of four books, Cut To The Chase, Kentucky Passion, From The Rafters Of Rupp, and Serving Up Winners. His latest book, They Call Me Mr. Secretary, is now available at https://www.amazon.com/dp/B0CMPN9W8P . You can follow Dr. Huang on social media @KYHuangs.

And the Oscar goes to…

Whether Oscar Tshiebwe makes it in the NBA or not, one thing’s for sure: great will be his reward in heaven (Dr. Michael Huang Photography).

(LEXINGTON, Ky.) – Now that Oscar Tshiebwe’s University of Kentucky basketball career has officially ended, I thought it’d be the perfect time to briefly reflect and reminisce on his time as a Wildcat. If you hadn’t yet heard, the former National Player of the Year announced his intention of entering the 2023 NBA draft, thus foregoing his final year of eligibility at the school of his dreams.

In his goodbye message put out by the University of Kentucky, Oscar predictably thanked God, his family and friends, Coach Cal, and the UK fanbase for his time wearing the blue and white.

“I wouldn’t want to play for anyone or anywhere else,” he poignantly wrote. “Thank you BBN for everything and I am so lucky to always call Kentucky home.”

I’ll be truthfully blunt. I don’t think we’ll ever see a player like Oscar again. On the court, he was a rebounding machine, garnering double digit caroms at an all-time pace. He ended up with 952 boards in 66 games—the sixth most in program history. If he returned for another season, he would have most likely broken Dan Issel’s 53-year school record of 1,078.

Oscar was no Dan Issel. Or even Anthony Davis for that matter. He certainly didn’t have the accomplishments that Davis had, nor the victories or championships. But he had every bit as much heart and soul and drive and purpose as anyone I’ve watched during the course of my half century following the team.

His prowess around the backboards notwithstanding, it was Oscar’s actions off the court that will always stand out to me. The guy was as humble as Saint Paul, always taking the time to answer questions, sign autographs, and pose with adoring fans. He was polite and courteous to a fault. In his postgame interview sessions, Oscar would sit there patiently answering every reporter’s question—regardless of how inane or repetitive—until the clock struck midnight and beyond.

On top of all that, Oscar did everything with a smile. The guy was just so nice. He’d look you in the eye, and with that melodically lilting African accent, wax poetically about fight, playing hard, and his love of the game. You just somehow knew that everything he told you was genuine, unscripted, and coming from the heart. Remember the time he called out his teammates for lack of fight? You knew that didn’t come from the public relations gurus at UK.

Most importantly of all, Oscar wore his faith on his sleeve. Coach John Calipari frequently speaks of finding your “why”—your motivation for doing what you do. Oscar’s “why” was to give glory to God each and every day. He certainly did that in both word and deed. We should all be so passionate in our faith and our testimony.

Imagine Oscar’s journey from his native Democratic Republic of the Congo to Lexington. Put the basketball part aside, do you know how difficult it is to adjust to life in a foreign country? Not only did Oscar survive, but he also thrived—learning the laws and customs, making friends by the boatload, earning a college degree, and speaking publicly in front of large crowds about important spiritual matters like loving your neighbor.

Christians are known for being two things: hypocritical and judgmental. Oscar was neither. One minute you’d hear him talking about caring for the sick and the poor, the next minute you’d see him helping at a soup kitchen or raising money for a worthwhile children’s charity. Just because you were different from him, he’d never denigrate or belittle you. It didn’t matter if you were Muslim or Buddhist, Hindu or Wicca, he’d talk to you as a disciple of Jesus anytime, anywhere, anyhow.

Okay, so maybe he had trouble defending the pick and roll and he never experienced the postseason success everybody anticipated, but I’ll take eternal glory in heaven over divine hardwood presence any day of the week.

In the end, Oscar knew how important winning basketball games was to UK fans. But he always managed to keep the main thing the main thing. Because of that (and his rebounding), we’ll eventually see his jersey hanging in the hallowed rafters of Rupp Arena.

For now, The Oscar is going to the NBA. Here’s hoping he makes it big. As an all-time great for the Kingdom of God, he’s already my MVP.

Dr. John Huang is a retired orthodontist, military veteran, and award-winning author. If you enjoy his writing, please check out his most recent Kentucky Basketball devotional book at https://www.amazon.com/dp/1684351669

This blog posting was originally submitted as a UK Basketball Column for Nolan Group Media publications.

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Tag: Kentucky Basketball