L S WHO?

You asked for it now you are going to get it. Fortunately (or unfortunately) you are receiving the abridged version of the events that transpired on October 13, 2007 in Lexington, KY. The entire account of what is to be told may or may not be the truth, but they are, in fact, the truths as I remember them. This tale is not for the faint of heart. Please use extreme caution as you read. You have been warned.

7:30 AM All are awakened at 2533 Island Pond. “All” includes Beth, cats, and myself. I shower, shave, dress, and pack the car with the necessities. I was a little foggy-headed from the ten beers I consumed the night before. Hey, it was Midnight Madness. Beth was ready in record time.

8:10 AM We leave said address and make our way to the game. We stop at Speedway on New Circle for a bag of ice, a coffee (for Beth), and a mineral water for my re-hydration regime. The line at the cash register is long. The cashier asks if I have a Speedy Rewards card. I tell her no and I am heckled by the crack heads (literally) behind me for not having one. I ask myself two things: (Why do I feel uneasy every time I am inside the New Circle Loop (except for downtown)? And why aren’t these crack heads sleeping it off right now?

8:30 AM We arrive at our tailgating location. It is significantly more crowded at this time than the Florida Atlantic game two weeks earlier with a 2 ½ hour earlier game time. There are a lot of purple and yellow dressed tailgaters. Not a concern, just a little ticked there aren’t more dedicated UK fans with as much enthusiasm. We set up our tailgating spot.

8:40 AM Brandon calls to tell us he will be there around 8:55 AM. He uses his child as an excuse to be late. No one buys it. Fellow tailgater, Lindsay, arrives. Nothing more significant to report other than the ridicule I receive for wearing Carhart coveralls while trying to stay warm. It is all of 45° F with no sun shining in our vicinity. This is the first time I am called a redneck by my wife.

8:50 AM Beth takes MY gloves I brought to keep MY hands warm. Good thing I brought two pairs of gloves. Beth has her hood pulled over her head. With her sunglasses on, I tell her she looks like the Unabomber. She replies again that I look like a redneck. Lindsay puts on a winter coat from the trunk of her car and has her hands shoved down the front pockets of her jeans. They are cold. I am smiling and warm. More LSU fans start to arrive.

9:00 AM Brandon arrives.

9:05 AM I tell Brandon the last episode of South Park was hilarious. He does not find it so amusing because he is a huge Bono fan. No surprise. I fire up the grill. Sausage links and pancakes are on the morning menu. More LSU fans start to arrive and this group is drinking liquor. The UK fans at the end of the parking lot have a huge sound system. I hear Johnny Cash’s version of “My Old Kentucky Home” for the first time. I am grooving on it.

9:30 AM Brandon commences in the partaking of Bud Light. The sausages are cooked and the first pancake is just starting in the pan. All is good. LSU fans are chatty.

9:35 AM I am receiving plenty of criticism from the people for whom I am cooking pancakes and they offer plenty of advice, but no one seems to willing to bang this hooker, they are content just holding her legs. I explain to them my plight of their incessant whining and willingness to do nothing. They are quieted. The first pancake comes off the grill and it is a huge success. Beth re-iterates that I look like a redneck.

10:30 AM The pancakes are all but a memory and a full belly. I help Brandon to clean up round one of cooking. We debate asking the older LSU fans tailgating beside us if they would like some pancakes. We decide not to offer. We both agree LSU sucks. I agree to start drinking after 11 AM. Some guy from some charity bums some money from us for a worthy cause and gives us some nifty UK hats. Score. But the guy calls me redneck, but it’s okay because he calls Brandon a child molester. Cornhole boards come out. The LSU fans are amazed at the game and the name. Oh, the novelty. The first game it was Beth and I versus Lindsay and Brandon. Good guys win. (Yeah, that’s me and Beth, you A-hole.)

11:00 AM The LSU guys tailgating beside us ignore their wives and flirt with Beth and Lindsay. Brandon and I are discussing what we saw last night on television: Big Blue Midnight Madness, Hawaii is overrated, Colt Brennan is not, etc. We hear Johnny Cash’s “My Old Kentucky Home” for the third time. It’s getting old. My coveralls come off and Beth still calls me a redneck.

11:15 AM I forgot to get a beer (Busch Lite) at 11 AM. No rush. I am easy like Sunday morning. Another cornhole game breaks out. The good guys win again. Our parking lot is getting quite crowded with an even ratio of UK to LSU fans with one Buckeye wearing a Ted Ginn, Jr. jersey. Talk about out of place. Buckeyes…sheesh.

12:30 PM I have about 4 beers in me. I see an old fraternity brother from college with his chick who happens to live down the street from us. They chat for a minute and tell us they will be back in a while. Lindsay comes back from the port-a-potty with a tale that will make you shout EEWWWWW!. As she was hovering, her sunglasses fell into the hole of doom. There was no rescue attempt, only a sad face. Lindsay cursed her Asian ancestry. Good thing for her I had a pair of back-up sunglasses. There is a rough looking LSU fan passed out under the tree in front of my car. He had been drinking bottles of Icehouse since we had been there. He looked like he needed a nap.

1:00 PM Brandon, along with several others, are taking pictures of the passed out LSU fan with their cell phones. My buddy that stopped by earlier is coming back with a jar of what looks like gasoline. Yep, moonshine. He gets Brandon to take a pull. Brandon swears it is good. I take a pull. Tastes like apple juice, not bad. I noticed where he was tailgating. He was with a group from Mt. Sterling. I recognized a group of girls there. One happened to be an ex-girlfriend. Awkward. Not really. That just meant we wouldn’t combine the tailgating parties. I didn’t care. Eight beers gone. They are starting to taste like water. JC’s “Old Kentucky Home” for the 6th time. Hate it. We fire up the grill again for some chilidogs. The older LSU fans beside us ask if they could use some of the grill surface for their hotdogs. No problem. We find out these guys not only brought hotdogs to eat while tailgating without a grill, they didn’t bring buns or any condiments. What?

1:30 PM The hotdogs were awesome. Everyone is starting to get right. I suddenly find myself in a great deal of pain that seems to be emanating from my chest. Beth has reached up to grab my shirt to demonstrate something to Lindsay and pulled out no less that 100 of my chest hairs. Brandon who seems to think this is funny asks if Beth did it “like this”. He rips out about 200 more. No joke. I would have banged my beer can off of his forehead if it had not been half full of beer. I hate alcohol abusers. But, I shake it off and he apologizes and says he didn’t mean to do it that hard. He does this a lot when he drinks—over-exaggerates physical actions so when he demonstrates something, it really hurts. Just like it did originally, I am sure. Whatever. I will get him back someday.

2:00 PM I clean everything up and pack up what all goes in my car except for the necessities, i.e. cooler and chairs. This way, I can concentrate on boozing for the next hour before the game. I have somehow struck up a conversation with the LSU fan that was passed out under the tree. He bums a beer from me and asked me if I want a “smack”. Not sure what this was, I smoothly said, “HUH?” He holds out a can of Kodiak. Oh, no thanks. I am a Fresh Cope man, myself. He mumbles a lot, then, I just take off walking like I am going to the bathroom to lose him.

2:30 PM It works for about 30 minutes. He comes back. We start putting away everything else to get ready to walk over to the stadium. He wanders off back to his own crowd. I am catching hell from all sides for talking to the guy. I admit, it was not my greatest moment. I apologize to the crowd. Where is my beer?

3:00 PM We head to the game. Of course, we stop by the port-a-potties. Moving on. There is a lot of purple and yellow. Brandon and I down two beers before going in to the game. I have hit my magical number, 12. All is right.

*I am not going to discuss what events are transpiring on the field. You should have watched the game. I will discuss anything significant that happened in the stands.

First Quarter The game is tense. We score first. All is still right. There is a father and son pair of LSU fans in front of us. They are from Kentucky, they tell us. I don’t get it. The kid is fired up. He yells “Geaux Tigers!” over and over. At first, it is funny. UK 7-0.

Second Quarter LSU gets a little lead on us. No one is out of it. The adolescents behind us are rowdy. They are cussing up a storm. Their dad is quiet, but he does give me high fives along with his kids when we score. Quiet drunk, I guess. “Geaux Tigers” is getting old. LSU 17-14.

Third Quarter LSU is owning us. They score again making it 24-14. Brandon says he is leaving if LSU scores again before we do. Many times he says, it’s not looking good. I rebuff him and tell him it is still early. LSU gets a field goal, 27-14. Brandon does not leave. Cats finally score again. 27-21, bad guys. The stadium is louder than any other game to which I have ever been witness. “Geaux Tigers” has lost his voice. Awesome.

Fourth Quarter We drop two field goals on them to tie it up. And the game slips into overtime.

*To spare you the suspense and you know what happened, I will fill you in on the post game activities.

Cats win 43-37 in triple overtime. “Geaux Tigers” looked like someone’s whipping boy. As soon at the game was over, there was an eerie moment of silence and disbelief. That lasted all of two seconds. I was jumping up and down. A lot of folks weren’t sure that Hester didn’t get the first down. I saw him hit hard as soon as he hit the line of scrimmage and I knew there wasn’t enough forward momentum to carry him for two more yards. Cats win, baby! It was pandalerium, to say the least. (I know that it not a word.)

The goal posts were lowered quickly by the field crew to keep them from being torn down. Fans, slowly, started trickling over the wall and onto the field. Somewhere, Lee Todd was crying—not out of joy, but out of the $50,000 fine for the fans on the field. People were randomly getting arrested for who knows what. It was a very surreal experience. We watched it for about ten minutes and then, we decided to make our way up the stands to get out. You could forget about trying to go down to exit. The grounds surrounding Commonwealth Stadium was nuts. It took us about fifteen minutes to get back to the car and once in the car, it took us about 30 minutes to get back home.

No joke, I was in bed before 11PM. I was worn out from the beer, food, and excitement. All was right.

Let's do it all again this week for Florida. ESPN College Gameday will be in the house. Tailgating at 8AM!

I Forgot to Tie My Shoes on Thursday

Yeah, that's how busy I have been. How goes it ladies and gents? I think I saw all 5 of my faithful readers some point and time over the past weekend. I think the problem was that not all of you were together at the same time. I will give you a quick rundown what events transpired over the past week.

Last Thursday, I broke out the grill for some chicken and ribs and such in preparation to watch the UK/South Carolina game. It was a not-to-often SEC Thursday night game. Sam came over to handicap the races at Keeneland the next day and to watch the game. Since my in-laws were going to Keeneland with us on Friday, they were on their way to Lexington from St. Albans. Game time.

The food was on. The game was on. The Cats weren’t on. They looked ragged. Andre’ Woodson looked ragged. For the most part the entire offensive unit looked like trash. The O-line was missing blocking assignments and they were letting SC’s defenders pour through like a sieve. The defense on the other hand looked like it could hold its own. They looked like a potential top-10 defensive unit, especially in the third quarter.

For the offense, it was turnover after turnover. Two of which were returned for touchdowns by SC’s Norwood. It was embarrassing to say the least. Woodson helped the most in making the team look undeserving. Of course, I always said Kentucky’s top-10 ranking wasn’t accurate, but my statement was based on the misgivings of the defensive squad, not UK’s effective offensive unit. They went flip-mode on me. I guess that shows us was UK could be capable of if both sides of the ball were on their A-game.

I am still optimistic about the team. They have actually over-shot my goals for them at this point in the season. I wanted them to be at least 4-2 going into this three game homestretch with LSU, Florida, and Mississippi State. They are 5-1. I wanted them to be close to the top-25 in ranking, if not in the top-25. They carry a 17 ranking. I think we can go 2-1 over this 3-game stand. LSU might pack an arse whooping back home to Baton Rouge with them. Florida definitely needs to take one back to Gainesville. Mississippi State…if we don’t give them one, it will be all for naught, anyway.

GO CATS! Tailgating starts at 8:30 a.m. I think we are going to do some pancakes and sausage on the grill. Oh yeah, I knew we would have some takers.

Sorry to digress. Friday morning, I introduced the heaven that is Chick-Fil-A breakfast to Dennis and Jo-Anne. They were not disappointed. We cleaned up and rolled over to Keeneland. It was a little rainy until about the time of the first post. We had a great time playing the ponies. We didn’t have any big winners, but we turned in a few tickets. I won a couple of times at Clocker’s Corner Bar. The Crowns and Coke were outstanding. Darley let us down on the free gifts this year—cheap plastic tumblers with a really dark picture of a horse on the side. Yeah, not as cool as the chairs we scored last year.

Since Beth and her parents left a few races early, I stayed at the track with Sam since he would give me a ride to the house afterwards. On our way out of Keeneland walking through the barns, Sam remembered that he read in The Daily Racing Form, Curlin, winner of the Preakness and Jockey Club Gold Cup(both Grade I’s) was stabled there. We decided to go looking for Steve Asmussen’s barn. We found it in no time. There was a big guy sitting in front of the entrance to the barn. Sam asked if this barn was Asmussen’s and the barn bouncer(?) said it was. We asked him if we could see Curlin. His reply was that Curlin was eating. Sam asked him which horse was Curlin. He nodded to the horse directly behind him. It was a tremendous looking horse, a muscled, chestnut colt with a white blaze running down his nose.

I still wasn’t sure that it was Curlin since we couldn’t see his nameplate on his bridle. When Sam dropped me off at the house, he said he would look him up on the old world wide interweb. I got a call from him about an hour or so later. Curlin confirmed. The day was already a great day. That call made it an excellent day for a horseracing fan such as myself. Goodtimes.

We killed some NY Strips and ribeyes on the grill for dinner with baked potatoes and baked beans. Yes, some of the baked beans I made for the family reunion. And speaking of that, what a great time we had. I think it was the funnest reunion I have ever been to. The food was great. There were some great cornhole games played and yours truly along with 899’s help started the largest wiffle ball game ever played, I’m sure. I just wished that I wasn’t out-drafted. My Uncle David was getting three picks to my one pick. This was evident after the top of the first when they took the field. Where we had about 6 outfielders, they had 12. I figure they had to overload if they wanted to beat us.

Later that night, Joel, Alex, Laura, and Adam came over to hang out. Joel even talked Aaron Epperson into coming over. We had a great time garaging it. It was a nice night after the heat of the day. According to T.G. Shuck, that was probably going to be the end of the heat for this year. Joel and I tried to save the world of the uninitiated, like Jonathan, from the evils of the Covenant and the Flood, but it got too late. Don’t worry, we saved the world the next day.

I have committed myself to the fall fishing trip even though this almost guarantees me no chance to bet on the Breeder’s Cup races that weekend, let alone watch them. I will be heading down to Cherokee Lake on the 26th, which is the Friday of that week. Give me a shout if you need a ride. Remember to cheer for the Cats on Saturday. 3:30 p.m. on CBS if you don’t have a ticket. Werd.