I Miss Sports

Is 2020 the delayed Y2K? It sure feels like it. A global pandemic has canceled all live sports. All. Live. Sports. It started with the NBA canceling games. Then, NCAA men's basketball conference tournaments. No March Madness. No Masters. Baseball spring training canceled - though that didn't really hurt me personally, the baseball season is already too long. No Olympics. Wimbledon? Nope. And if you think sports will be affected just for the next couple of months, you'd be wishfully thinking like me. We're most likely facing a fall without football. Or one we can't attend in person.

This shift in life of epic proportions, along with the amount of time for nostalgia which led me to share this blog with a friend, has gotten me out of retirement to write about sports in a time when there are no sports at all. When the world stops, it opens your eyes to what you cling to. I miss sports so much. It was a shock with the abrupt ending of the college basketball season. Many people consoled themselves by participating in mock brackets. Obviously for me, UK went all the way and won - like the last time I wrote here (another time of epic proportions).

Without the anticipation of sports as we've settled into this paused life, all I have is to watch the 10 part docuseries from ESPN on the 90s Bulls team and looking back on recent sports moments in hopes to bring back some of that absent and irreplaceable joy that only sports can bring into my life.

1. Tiger Woods winning the 2019 Masters. Wow. What an incredible comeback story. I've loved Tiger since he came onto the scene and won the tournament in 1997 as a 21 year old. Seeing him win again sporting his red shirt on Sunday gave me chills. I still get chills even as I write about it.

2. Sticking with the golf theme, going to a round of the British Open at the Portrush course in Northern Ireland 2019. I went with my parents and it was an absolute dream come true. We were rained on watching one hole, and shielding our eyes from sunlight on the next. A true British Open experience. We watched Tiger play the 6th hole and stroll down the fairway near us.

3. Watching LSU win the BCS championship 2020. You all know my love of Nick Saban and his teams, but rooting for Ed Orgeron in a post-Les Miles era was thrilling. I'll always be pro-SEC first and foremost. And this was a year that belonged to the Tigers, and NOT the Clemson ones.

4. Sitting 6th row at the Lakers vs. Kings in LA during Kobe's final season in 2016. Unfortunately, another huge shock to the world in 2020 was the sudden and tragic death of NBA legend Kobe Bryant. As much as I've trash talked him before, I came around and really respect him and his accomplishments. When we lived in LA, we got hooked up with tickets six rows behind the Laker bench and it was the best. Cousins, Rondo and Cauley-Stein were on the Kings, so I got to see some of my favorite UK players as well.

5. Almost reaching the winning circle in a horse race. Family friends in Lexington own a horse farm and asked if we'd like to represent them at the Del Mar racing track. Their horse, Recepta, was in the final race of the day and - after being treated to a lovely meal in the president's box - we went to the paddock to see the horses walk around and then walked to the gates by the finish line to watch the race. Recepta was in first until the very end when the other horse got its nose out just barely to win. So close. We still made $16 on the race.

There are so many more memories but you get the point. Sports bring so much joy (and pain) to my life. I hope the time comes soon when we can continue to hold our breath, cover our eyes, jump up and down, yell at the top of our lungs and be taken to the highest of highs and lowest of lows while being delusional that any of the afore mentioned actions have any bearing on the outcome of the game.

Happiest Day in 14 Years

I have, unfortunately, abandoned my blog for a while to pursue writing for Bleacher Report. That, too, has been fruitless due to my pursuit of a college degree. However, amid all the studying and completion of assignments, I made time for my favorite part of the year: March Madness. I filled out a couple of brackets confidently predicting Kentucky all the way. This year has been magical to watch. I fell in love with this team game after game. They were so unselfish, poised, and despite their youth, they played at an elevated level. The talent was unreal. I knew there was pressure for them to go far because I contributed to that pressure. I wanted it so badly. A 14 year championship drought was getting tough to take.

The NCAA tournament began, and my stomach was in knots prior-and during-each game. Everyone picked them to win, and I knew it would be a waste of talent to not cut down the nets. Monday night, I lost my appetite and could think of nothing else besides the last game ahead. This was it. At 9:30 p.m. Mountain Time, I would either be the happiest girl alive, or the most depressed. The first half was incredible. We were looking like winners. But I have been around long enough to fear a 2nd half surge by Kansas--which had become their tournament tradition over the past few weeks. When the lead was cut to six with about 3 or 4 minutes left, I almost couldn't take it. I was on the edge of my seat. Somehow the last three minutes took place, all of it was a sort of blur to me, and all of a sudden there we were dribbling out the clock. Oh. My. Gosh. We were, for the eight time, National Champions once again! This win will last me years of happiness.

The Curse of November 8th

In "V for Vendetta", V ominously proclaims, "Remember, remember the 5th of November." This might have been three days premature. It turns out that for Cincinnati Reds fans, the 8th of November is the day that must be remembered.

Baseball is a game full of curses: Curse of the Bambino (Red Sox), Curse of the Black Sox (White Sox), as well as other scapegoats used by teams who haven't produced a post-season appearance for decades. In this case, however, the curse is real. How do I know this? Well, I am the reason for the curse. Allow me to explain...

Back in June, the Yankees came to town and I was planning on attending the big game. As I left work early that afternoon, there was a tremendous thunderstorm in full swing. My parents made it all the way up to Cincy when it was announced that the game was canceled. I was crestfallen, to say the least. Fast forward to this past Monday evening. My parents and I made our second attempt at attending a Reds game. With Skyline for dinner, great seats for $15, and humidity as an unwelcome companion, it was bound to be a great night. At the completion of the second inning, the rain delay began. What a grandaddy gully washer! An hour and a half later, the game resumed. I got my ice cream in a plastic helmet, and then left after the 5th inning.

What are the odds that the two games I picked at random to attend, both get rained out? Furthermore, the game I was actually able to attend amid precipitation resulted in a loss. Double curse points. To completely solidify my curse, the Reds haven't been to, let alone won, a World Series since 1990-the year in which I was born. Bam! There you have it, I am the cause for the heartbreak year after year that is synonymous with The Cincinnati Reds. Curses.

P.S. I'm pleased to announce that I've been accepted to write for Bleacher Report!! I'm moving up in the sports writing world! If you would like to read my articles, then follow this link: http://bleacherreport.com/users/591506-alex-thomas. I'll try to write occasionally for this blog, but my main focus has turned toward my opportunity at B/R.

Let The Boys Celebrate

It's fourth down with the full ten yards still ahead for a first down. The other team's defense has been nothing short of the Berlin Wall-absolutely impenetrable. Although the two previous plays were potentially clever, the defense didn't fall for them. The next play selection is crucial in order to gain the necessary yardage and continue with the drive. The quarterback makes an executive decision to go up the gut. It's a bold move, considering the stretch of turf yet to gain and the unyielding defense thus far, but hey, go big or go home, right? Snap, catch, hand off to the running back. Just as it appears that the play will be foiled once again, there's a small gap that manifests itself. The running back capitalizes on the rare opening and takes off down the field. No one can catch him, and when he realizes this, he begins high stepping five yards before the endzone. For a finishing touch, he flawlessly flips in for the touchdown as the game clock ticks down to zero.

The cheering, which had been steadily increasing, was now at an ear-shattering decibel. The winning team leaps into the air with high fives flying and chest bumps galore. Hold on there a second. It's not over 'til the fat ref blows his whistle, and blow his whistle he does. As the sharp sound reverberates throughout the stadium, it comes out as more of an ominous wail rather than a joyful song. The referee deems the game winning touchdown null and void. The reason? Celebration. All of the excitement is for naught, and the fans slowly walk to their cars with a faint sound of a whistle ringing in every ear.

The scenario above could very well play out as a real life nightmare as a result of the new, stricter NCAA football rules. The group of fun-sucking football officials have commanded athletes to don football pads of stoicism at all times, or else face the consequence of handing back a hard earned TD. "I'm sorry, young man, but even though you broke through a few, tough tackles, stumbled, and still beat a guy by fifteen yards, you're only allowed one brisk handshake with each team member." It's a game, not a business meeting!

Now, by no means am I proposing,nor endorsing, an endless stream of showboating. No one wants to witness the Ickey Shuffle performed the length of the field. Excessive celebration has been dealt with by assigning penalties. Taking away a score is not the answer to running a tighter ship. If a celebratory dance lasts more than five seconds or a player goes into the stands, throw the little, yellow flag and tack on a fine to the school. Refrain from taking away what a player rightfully earned. The government will fulfill that duty soon enough. Send the right message: of course one may celebrate his accomplishment, as long as he does so with tact, class, and sans excess.

Let us all remember that these guys are still kids! Plus, who doesn't love to see a player swan dive into the endzone? Football without a touch of flair would be missing that extra je ne sais quios. Give a little wriggle room for celebration and a chance for players to gain some style points-you only get to be young once.

Liar Liar, Vest On Fire.

As you all know, Jim Tressel has been stripped of his senatorial image to reveal a long history of shady dealings. This week's cover story of SI uncovers a slew of violations that have been fueling the Tressel Train for years, not just the isolated event of the player's memorabilia swap. This shocking discovery has prompted everyone to question how he or she could have been so deceived by a man who everyone thought was the last standing coach with integrity.

In a way, I feel a bit sorry for him. As far as his success goes, his teams always did well. He knew how to get it done on the field. Unfortunately, all of those accomplishments are forever tainted and tarnished by his corruption, just like Woody Hayes will never be mentioned without a tag along line concerning his jab at the Gator Bowl in 1978.

"Win at all costs" has become the of almost every athlete and coach in sports-are there any pristine reputations remaining? Isn't there a way to win without breaking the rules? It doesn't appear that the game will get any cleaner, but I still hold out hope that there are victorious programs that go about the game the right way.

Until then, let us all (because no one likes the Big Ten) enjoy the burning of the sweater vest and watch as The Ohio State Buckeyes try and deal with their new title: THE Ohio State Violators.

An Extra Tidbit For Comedic Value:

In the aforementioned SI issue, the Sign of the Apocalypse reads, "An outbreak of horse herpes in Utah forced participants at a Davis County rodeo queen contest to perform their routines on stick ponies."

A Tradition Unlike Any Other

Masters weekend (sadly) has come to a close. Augusta did not disappoint. This has been the most exciting and enjoyable Masters in a few years! Tiger finally looked like his dominate self, and the action was intense. To those of you who think golf is boring-you're sorely mistaken. I'm on tenterhooks the whole time! Each shot is crucial, and things can go south in the blink of an eye. Just ask Rory McIlroy.

Admittedly, I usually watch after the final cut. That's when the stakes are at their highest. Rory led during the first three rounds and was looking calm heading into Sunday afternoon. At 21 years old, he would be achieving what many seasoned golfers have only dreamed. Though, with a green jacket on the line, players were coming out of the woodwork to take a shot at victory. Rory bogied the first hole, which foreshadowed the eventual 8+ score on the day. He hit the lip of the bunker on the second, went swimming on the back nine, and never recovered. I feel bad for the guy-he seemed nice.

Tiger had a phenomenal front nine performance! Two birdies, an eagle, and his red shirt blazing in the sun. Even though he didn't pull off a win, being 5- on the day, and at least having a shot at the title, was enough to satisfy my wishes as his fan. He played a great round of golf. Unfortunately, so did other guys. Adam Scott and his long putter were swinging their way to the top of the leaderboard, along with Charl Swartzel. Seriously, that South African made some terrific shots. I'm sure the announcers groaned with the frequency of attempting to correctly say his name.

In the end, Swartzel emerged with the win, edging out Adam Scott and the rest of the competitors. The Aussies' hopes of finally having one of their own win the Masters were sunk with Charl's putt. Better luck next year, mate.

Before I conclude this post, I would like to mention a few of my thoughts on the greatness of the Masters:

1. The beauty of Magnolia Lane and the tradition that thickly hangs all around you.

2. The British commentators that deliver such classic lines as, "the ball touched down like a butterfly with sore feet."

3. Rooting against players and seeing them crumble.

4. When someone hits the lip of the bunker, tees off into the pines, has a shot obstructed by a tree, or hits his ball into the water.

5. Seeing the joy of hitting the green slowly fade as the ball rolls back down onto the fairway. Better get your chipper!

6. When a player has to attempt a shot from a completely different hole (i.e. Adam Scott).

7. Seeing everyone flinch when a player takes off his hat or visor because of how matted the hair is, and how white the forehead appears after being in the sun for almost a week.

8. The golf gods punishing anyone who is stupid enough to use a long putter.

All in all, it was a GREAT weekend of golf! I laughed, I cheered, and, most of all, I was continually entertained.

Knight in Shining Armor

Wow, wow, wow, wow! I cannot believe I did not have a heart attack during last night's game between UK and OSU to go to the Elite Eight! You all will criticize me for being an "unfaithful fan", but I had been gearing myself up for a loss since we beat West Virginia. I figured it's better to not get my hopes up and avoid being completely crushed. I used to be a more optimistic fan, until that fateful night on March 29th, 2003 in the NCAA tournament. We were the No. 1 seed in the Midwest region, and looked good with our stars, namely Keith Bogans, Erik Daniels, Gerald Fitch, and Cliff Hawkins. Then, Bogans hurt his ankle. We had to take on Marquette, and their star Dwyane Wade (maybe you've heard of him?), in order to advance. This had to happen sans the presence of Bogans. I watched the entire game, naively believing we could still pull through with a win (even though we were completely blown out and Wade had a triple double). I was shocked when the buzzer sounded and a fourteen point elimination cut out my heart. Quickly, I ran to my room and cried for a solid ten minutes. Ever since then, I vowed to never watch the end of a game that we were going to lose. I can't emotionally handle it.

Knowing this, you can now understand why I was hesitant to believe we were going to come out the victor of a match up against the number 1 overall seed. We are a young team with little depth, it simply wasn't in our cards. Of course, I still watched the game. Early on I realized it could turn into a last second situation, and may be a heart-breaker. Tied at the half and practically every starter with two fouls, I was just happy it hadn't turned into a rout. The second half commences, and my greediness appears. We could win. I thought to myself, our defense is good, and we're staying with them! I tried to push it aside, but my hope was on the rise. It seemed as though the second half flew by in an instant, and next thing I knew, there were two minutes left in the game. A point difference increased the intensity tenfold. In a display of incredible defense and poise, the Cats edged ahead with what looked like an unimpeded win. In an instant, Diebler was elevating from behind the three point line and releasing a three. Swish. Damn. Tied at 60 with 21 seconds left on the clock. I did NOT want to go into OT. My heart wouldn't make it that long. Luckily, it didn't have to. UK brought the ball down the court, and there at the top was Knight, using his bball savvy to concoct a winning play. He succeeded for the second time in the tourney, making a small drive into the right wing and creating enough space to shoot his sweet, nothing-but-net, dagger.

For a second, the world went quiet. Was this real life? Did my Wildcats just upset the Buckeyes? Heck yeah they did! I quickly jumped out of my seat and engaged in the happiest victory dance of the season! We, THE University of Kentucky, are going to the Elite Eight. Life is great :)