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.

Rekindled Passion in Wildcat Nation

Tre Mitchell celebrates with teammates in a 22-point effort in victory over Saint Joseph’s.

(LEXINGTON, Ky.) – The passion is back.

In Kentucky’s 96 – 88 overtime victory the other night against the Saint Joseph’s Hawks, there was a point in the game that I thought the Wildcats might actually lose. With 30 seconds left in regulation and his team trailing by a point, D.J. Wagner shot a layup that would have given the Wildcats the lead.

He missed.

Fortunately for Big Blue Nation, Tre Mitchell grabbed the errant rebound and slammed it home for a one-point lead.

What was significant about this moment wasn’t that Kentucky ultimately prevailed in overtime and avoided the monumental upset loss at home. But rather, the significance was that—for the first time in a while—I actually cared again whether Kentucky Basketball won or lost.

And so apparently did a bunch of other Wildcat fans watching around the commonwealth. It’s been a while since we’ve all collectively felt the joy—that nail-biting, gut-wrenching nervous energy excitement of actually giving a crap. When Kentucky wins, we’re on cloud nine. When Kentucky loses, we’re depressed for a week.

As weird as that sounds, I miss that feeling.

I can’t tell you how many times over the past couple of seasons that I heard former die-hard fans tell me that joy was gone. Half the time, they didn’t even know when the Cats were playing. That’s sad. When it comes to Kentucky Basketball, there’s nothing worse than fan apathy.

Let’s face it, we’re all tired of hearing about 9 -16 seasons, first-round exits to Saint Peter’s in the NCAA tournament, and Kansas surpassing us as the all-time winningest program in college basketball. Everyone and their brother is totally frustrated by situations where Shaedon Sharpe doesn’t play at all or where Devin Askew plays too much. We’re devastated and demoralized that Final Fours—much less national championships—have apparently become things of the past.

Amidst the gloom and doom of it all, we’ve all forgotten the exhilaration of seeing the last shot go in, the elation of shooting (and making) a bunch of three-point daggers, and even the excitement of successfully running a simple inbounds play.

In one fell swoop the other night, all those emotions came flowing back.

I guarantee you this current team will recapture your passion. They’re agile, mobile, and versatile. Sure, they’re young, but they’re also extremely fun to watch. Talent is overflowing in the backcourt. Antonio Reeves can shoot with the best of them, and “dawgs” like Wagner and Rob Dillingham don’t frequently appear together out of thin air.

Reed Sheppard, however, may be better than anyone, and he’s already a fan favorite. Check out the buzz whenever he’s on the floor.

And don’t forget about Mitchell—the star of the game. The West Virginia transfer can definitely stretch the floor with his three-point shooting. Don’t ever underestimate his maturity and leadership either. It’s all part of the championship puzzle.

On top of all that, Coach John Calipari seems to be letting them play. Random basketball he calls it.

“Random is we are spacing the court, and we are playing off of one another,” the Hall of Fame coach explained. “It is kind of like you have five 3-point shooters. Do you know what you would do? Shoot a lot of 3s.”

One man’s “random” may be another man’s “rolling the balls out.”

Either way, it’s exciting for the program with the greatest tradition in the history of college basketball to be relevant again. It’s appropriate for Kentucky to recapture the all-time wins mantle. And it’s certainly exciting and appropriate for the most passionate fans on the planet to care about their team again.

Is it sustainable? I hope so.

If Kentucky gets a healthy seven-footer (or two or three) back into the lineup, then it certainly will be. Then and only then will all be right with the world.

Happy Thanksgiving.

Dr. John Huang is a retired orthodontist, military veteran, and award-winning author. He currently serves as a reporter and sports columnist for Nolan Group Media. His latest book, “They Call Me Mr. Secretary,” has been met with great anticipation. 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

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.

One Last Chance

Kentucky players walk off the Bridgestone Arena court after another demoralizing early exit in tournament play (Dr. Michael Huang Photo).

(LEXINGTON, Ky.) – Talk about unpredictable. The Kentucky basketball team this year has been exactly that. Coach John Calipari’s squad began the preseason with a lofty No. 4 national ranking and visions of a ninth national title dancing in everyone’s heads. Seventeen weeks later on Selection Sunday, the Wildcats are still dancing—but just barely. They’re saddled with a middling 6^th seed in the East (New York City) Regional of the upcoming NCAA Tournament, ready to embark on an improbable—but totally necessary—quest for redemption.

That’s not hyperbole either. Kentucky gets one last last chance to avoid disaster—the shameful extension of a four-year drought brought on by a worldwide pandemic and ignominiously crowned with a humiliating and inexplicable first-round tournament loss to Saint Peters last year. That on the heels of a historically worst ever 9 – 16 trainwreck of a season just one year prior. Combine all that with this current campaign of crushed hopes and shattered expectations, and you can see why the natives are uptight.

Uptight might just be the understatement of the year. Plenty of fans within Big Blue Nation are downright furious, some already brandishing pitchforks and torches. Others are even worse off—disgustingly apathetic after having already thrown in the towel. The remaining segment of die-hards are hanging by their fingernails with a residual smidgeon of ever-fading hope—fervently praying for a miraculous rebirth like they experienced in that magical run in 2014.

What can we expect? Your guess is as good as anyone’s. I do know that with this team, expect the unexpected. The Wildcats lost to lowly South Carolina at home, but beat a highly-ranked Tennessee team the very next game on the road. They blew out a dangerous Auburn team by thirty-two points, then lost to Vanderbilt on Senior Night in Rupp. The team rallied to beat the Hogs in Bud Walton Arena, then pulled the stinker in the SEC Tournament. You can’t blame anyone for being perpetually perplexed.

Truth be told, Kentucky fans flooded into Nashville last week with high expectations of a return to normalcy. By that I mean routine championship runs with the Cats still playing on Sunday afternoon. The blue mist blew in with visions of three straight days of good food, good friends, and late nights on Broadway. It had been way too long since the good times rolled.

Of course—surprise, surprise—the unexpected happened, and Vandy sent Kentucky fans packing on Friday night. For many, that was the proverbial last straw. FUHGEDDABOUDIT! Season over.

Or is it? Remember, the Big Dance means one last chance at One Shining Moment, and Coach Calipari has harped incessantly this year about his team playing only for March. Also remember that this Kentucky team performs exactly the opposite of how you think it will. That means you have to fill out Kentucky’s path in the bracket exactly the opposite of how you think they’ll fare.

There’s only one huge problem with that “reverse thinking” type strategy, and it has to do with Kentucky’s first-round opponent. Heading into the matchup with No. 11 seed Providence (21 – 11) on Friday in Greensboro—given what happened last year and now with UK transfer Bryce Hopkins waiting in the wings—the pressure to win will be immense. The Cats will need to shake those opening game jitters (or more accurately, Calipari needs to keep everyone’s head from exploding) in order to move on to the round of 32. Many cynics are already picking Kentucky to lose—which means they’ll win.

From then on, you wouldn’t expect Kentucky to advance any further—which with this team means subsequent victories over No. 3 seed Kansas State (23 – 9), No. 2 seed Marquette, and No. 1 seed Purdue if the seeds hold up. If there’s one thing we’ve learned this year, it’s that the Wildcats always play their best as underdogs, with their backs against the wall.

That would mean a trip to the Final Four in Houston. Don’t laugh. It’s exactly what’s needed for the aforementioned redemption and exactly where fans were thinking this team was headed at the beginning of the year. We shouldn’t lower the bar just because the team wobbled during the regular season. Kentucky fans should never settle for mediocrity. Droughts like this are not par for the course for the program with the greatest tradition in the history of college basketball.

When measured against the gold standard, the last four years have been totally unacceptable. Here’s one last chance to make things right.

See you in Greensboro.

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

Doctor Cal

He may not be Sigmund Freud, but Coach John Calipari sure knows how to push the right psychological buttons (Dr. Michael Huang Photo).

(LEXINGTON, Ky.) – John Calipari has played the role of psychologist more than basketball coach this year. Not that there’s anything wrong with that. A hall of fame coach has to be many things to many people—especially his players. Mentor, father figure, disciplinarian, cheerleader, or counselor—a caring, players-first coach by necessity wears many hats.

Dealing successfully with inflated egos and entitled mindsets is an art that Coach Cal has mastered over his forty-plus years in the business. This particular season, however, his skillful navigation through a minefield of mental distress deserves a shiny gold star. Truth be told, this Wildcat team may be one of the most emotionally fragile teams in UK history.

Personality plays a huge role in that aforementioned fragility. Players this year seem quite a bit more hypersensitive to fan criticism than usual. Although Calipari has warned them to stay off of social media, they’re only human and are naturally curious about what people say about them.

Additionally, injuries have drastically altered playing times and rotations, confidence has wildly wavered, and no one has really stepped up to be the bona fide team leader. Uncertainty about future NBA riches also drew angst on a team with multiple borderline prospects. No doubt about it, play for pay messes with your mind.

Along the same lines, who knows how NIL issues have affected team chemistry. Throw in the tragic death of a player’s father just before the season began and the brouhaha early on associated with the proper utilization of your returning point guard, and you can see why the team was heading off an emotional cliff.

But fear not! Coach Cal—or should we say Doctor Cal—to the rescue. Throughout the roller coaster of a season, the wise and seasoned 64-year-old Calipari has maintained just the right amount of both compassion and assertiveness to keep his team from letting go of the rope.

“You know, there’s two things when you’re coaching,” Doctor Cal reminded the media after Kentucky’s impressive 86 – 54 blowout win over Auburn on Saturday. “One, you’ve got to hold them accountable. But you’re juggling balls because you also got to build them up.”

Anyone paying attention to Calipari press conferences has rolled their eyes at his incessant attempts to build players up during the times they were struggling. Listening to Calipari, you’d think every one of his star pupils was having a breakout season. No matter how many times he threw the ball away, Sahvir Wheeler could do no wrong. Jacob Toppin was always poppin’—even though early on he couldn’t throw it in the ocean, and Oscar Tshiebwe was always “getting better”—despite opponents destroying him time and time again on the pick and roll. And of course, there was always the endearing “How ‘bout Lance” comment every time Lance Ware simply made a court appearance.

I’ve learned over the years that everyone—no matter their status and achievements in life—needs encouragement when they’re down. A pat on the back can do wonders for a wounded psyche. For some players, it’s just what the doctor ordered.

“Yeah, of course,” answered Antonio Reeves when asked whether he appreciated and needed all the balloons and sunshine. “From the team and [from the coach]. We all need to be connected to one another and tell each other if we’re not playing well. ‘Just keep your head up’ or ‘keep playing your game’ basically.”

On the other hand, players like Cason Wallace would rather Calipari just stifle the effusive fake praise once and for all.

“That’s just how I am,” said the freshman point guard after breaking out of his extended shooting slump. “I don’t need the congratulations and the ‘good job, Cason.’ Just tell me what I need to get better at. We know it’s from a good place. If [Coach Cal’s] getting on us, he wants what’s best for us and the team. You just got to take it with a grain of salt.”

Individual players respond differently to various motivational approaches, and it seems to me like Coach Cal is indeed pushing all the right buttons. But it doesn’t really count what I think—or what you think, for that matter. How he’s perceived by the players is what’s ultimately important.

“I give him a lot of credit,” Oscar said when asked how much of the recent turnaround is due specifically to his coach’s psychobabble. “He works so hard. He just comes in everyday thinking, ‘What can I do to make these kids ready to go? What can I do to make sure these kids are happy?’”

“I know people have been hard on him,” the returning Player of the Year continued empathetically. “No matter what we are going through, he’s just going to come in with the motivation [and] positive words. He sends us messages every single day about positive stuff. ‘Stay positive!’”

That’s certainly good advice during times of trial and tribulation, so let’s give credit where credit is due. John Calipari has successfully steered his team through the mental abyss. Not only has Coach Cal done a good job on the basketball court drawing up Xs and Os this year, but Doctor Cal has done a masterful job manipulating everybody’s mind.

As the madness of March approaches and the pucker factor rises, the mental game becomes more important than ever. Let’s all hope that psychological wizardry continues to reap dividends in the postseason win column.

Dr. John Huang is a retired orthodontist, military veteran, and award-winning author. This blog posting was originally submitted as a UK Basketball Column for Nolan Group Media publications. If you enjoy his Kentucky Basketball stories, be sure to check out his latest book at https://www.amazon.com/dp/1684351669

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Tag: UK basketball