Now to pour salt on the wound…
It didn’t take Dicky V long to chime in with his usual “Kentucky fans have such high expectations” rant (4 minutes I beleive), but the old man has been exactly right on a couple of occasions:
This team plays with absolutely no heart. It’s determination that keeps you moving without the basketball. It’s toughness that drives you to fight through a screen, it’s pride that inspires you to go after a rebound. Not talent or athletic ability. It’s been no secret thus far that your daddy’s UK team this is not, but there is NEVER an excuse to come out on national TV, in an environment like Allen Fieldhouse and not bust your butt for the name scrawled across your jersey. I’m not a traditional Orlando detractor, but people have to start aiming some responsibility to the man who gets multi-millions to orchestrate a team. These are 18, 19 year old kids (sans Sparks who is pushing 24 but playing like he’s threatening 40), it’s up to the experienced coaches to have your team AT LEAST somewhat prepared for a game of this stature. Our coach refuses to adjust his game plan for the players we have, most of which do not belong in a UK uniform, and with ZERO first-half assists and 19 points, it’s a glaring mistake.
It seems as if Tubby and the rest of the club just want to get this game over with, hop the plane and prepare for life with Morris. However, Hakeem Olajuwon couldn’t even salvage an effort this porous, as it’s beginning to look more and more like he’ll simply be and band-aid on a gaping wound (sorry for the mental image).
Speaking of images…how about Ashley Judd? Even the Nobel wannabe herself failed to bring her A-game. She looks like she just got off the red-eye in from Uganda, or perhaps the Milan International Speedway. Yet, Judd remains the prettiest thing I have seen on the court all game.
Kentucky is going to need a miracle to make this game even respectable, and leave us again wondering just how bad it can get, and how much Morris can help. I may have to join Matt Jones and simply turn the TV off. I pity James Nasmith whose name adornes the court, for desecrating the beautiful game of basketball in which the sole purpose is to put the ball in the basket.