Christmas morning was nearing a close. My soon to be nine-month-old was ready for a nap, exhausted after playing in wrapping paper for hours. “Wait, there’s one more gift,” my brother-in-law told me.
Instead of excitedly unwrapping a Red Ryder bb-gun, once the bubblewrap was removed I found myself speechless. It’s been three days and I still cannot believe what I uncovered: a 16×20 autographed and framed print of “The Shot” by Christian Laettner. A lump of coal would have been more welcome.
Is there a worse gift for a Kentucky basketball fan while the Wildcats are 1-6? I don’t think so. What should I do with it? How should I pay back my Duke-loving brother-in-law? I am stunned, left with more questions than answers from a Christmas gift that’s more despicable than the year 2020.