Coach Roy here. Now, I know many of you Kentucky fans hate my daggumed guts, and that’s ok, but I wanted to take a moment and let you know how goshdarned excited I am to return to Rupp Arena this weekend. I have so much daggum respect for that place and this program, and you fans are about as passionate as any I come across. Shoot, I remember being a boy and walkin’ down to the ol’ fishin’ hole with Paw, and we’d just be whistlin’ and talkin’ about things like Chevys, great big trout, varmints and of course, ball. I remember one time he told me about this Coach Rupp over the mountains in Kentucky and somethin’ about fiddles and runts and how he came from Kansas just like Dean Smith. I had a chance to meet coach Rupp when Kentucky came to Chapel Hill my junior year, but I chose not to. Still regret it today but as me-maw always used to say, “keep an eye on the sky and your foot out the fricassee.” Heck, I don’t even know what a fricassee is, tell ya the truth, but I live by these words.
UNC is all about family, you see. And so is Kentucky in many ways. Not quite as strong but good and tightly woven. Why, just last night I shared a moment with Tyler and we talked about his rookie season so far in the NBA, I offered some pointers on his game and he showed me the fundamentals of extreme ping pong. And we talked about life–a lot about livin’ and a little ’bout love. Real cotton-pickin’ stuff. Look, I love these daggum kids like family, and son-uva-gun, they are. When they hurt, I hurt. When they learn, I learn. When they lose, I cry.
Heck, I’m a blue-collar boy just like yall. You know, early mornin’ chores, a school buildin’, a shiny nickel then on down to Hatchey’s Hardware for a hard earned bottle of coke-cola and a Moon Pie. Boy, there’s nothin’ like that first long swig of ice cold coke-cola after a day of bustle, I tell you that right now. So no matter what happens in this ding-dasted game this weekend I want you to know that win or lose, you’ve already won my respect, and Jiminy H. Christmas, I’m the one who is losing sleep trying to figure out how to stop John Wall and Pat Patterson. Now, John Wall is a special flippin’ player, he whips up and down that court in three clucks of the dinner hen and even though for certain reasons I chose not to bring him to Chapel Hill, I’m just glad he’s part of a family.
Have to run folks, wife’s got a huckleberry pie a-coolin’ on the window sill. Here’s to hopin’ we see each other again in Indy!