All good things must come to an end, even John Calipari and Kentucky
[Ed. Note: This article was originally published on Friday, March 22.]
I’ve been thinking a lot about my Kentucky Basketball fandom lately. As the seconds ticked down on the Cats’ 80-76 loss to Oakland in Pittsburgh last night, I kept waiting for the emotions to wash over me. Instead, it was beer from a mostly full tallboy that slammed against the back of my chair, the result of an errant throw by an angry fan or a jubilant Oakland one. The slosh of suds cemented the unfortunate reality: Kentucky’s season was over. For the second time in three years, the Cats were headed home after just one game in the NCAA Tournament because of a team whose bench player is now the darling of March Madness.
Sadly, we are now practiced at covering NCAA Tournament early exits. The sad locker room, the filibustered John Calipari press conference, the knowledge that however much content you produce, it will never be enough for a fanbase roiling with anger and sadness. As we went through the motions, I wondered why the emotions never came. Kentucky Basketball is a bedrock of my life. It’s not just something I do, it’s part of who I am, my livelihood. So why did I still feel so numb at the program’s biggest crossroads since Alan Cutler chased Billy Gillispie through Memorial Coliseum?
The first six years of the Calipari era were among the best in the program’s storied history. Kentucky went to four Final Fours in five years, and that doesn’t even include the squad that started it all. That stretch was such an embarrassment of riches that it conditioned the fanbase to expect the gold standard. The night the dream of grasping college basketball’s ultimate brass ring came crashing down still ranks up there as one of the worst of my life. When Wisconsin beat Kentucky in the Final Four to turn 38-0 to 38-1, I cried. Not once, but twice, on the way back to my hotel room and again when I woke up the next morning and realized it wasn’t just a nightmare.
There were no tears last night; in fact, thinking about it, I don’t think I’ve shed a tear over Kentucky Basketball since 2015, which is probably healthy, but also my own personal delineation. The Cats did achieve what most would consider postseason success after the 2015 season, going to two more Elite Eights. The 2017 team with De’Aaron Fox, Malik Monk, and Bam Adebayo had the best shot at glory, and therefore, Luke Maye’s shot cut deep. I still hear Bruce Weber’s voice when I think about how Kentucky’s bracket opened up in 2018 and the loss to Auburn, a team the Cats had beaten twice that season, in 2019 feels like a cruel joke. The 2019-20 team was really fun and no matter how many times Calipari reminds us of the run they could have gone on, for circumstances beyond anyone’s control, it never happened.
That brings us to Kentucky Basketball post-pandemic. The pandemic changed a lot of things for a lot of people. Even if you just look at numbers, the program has been different since then. One NCAA Tournament win. One SEC Tournament win. No regular season SEC titles. Zero wins in the Champions Classic. The first three-game losing streak in Rupp Arena history. And now, two first-round exits in three years. Of the three chapters of the John Calipari era, this is the worst and by his own standards, unacceptable.
Calipari himself has changed. Once ahead of the curve and actively connecting with the fanbase, he is isolated and out of touch. Trusted assistants, staffers, and confidants have left his side, tightening the inner circle. The one thing that remains is stubbornness. Calipari has always liked doing things his way — and won big doing it, forging the one-and-done path to success in college basketball. He tried to adapt to the ever-changing landscape of college basketball, building a roster with the transfer portal and when that didn’t work, went back to the original recipe of elite freshmen alongside a few veterans. Both were failures by any measure, epic ones with the Kentucky Basketball yardstick.
Watching Kentucky warm up in Pittsburgh last night was like watching them warm up in Nashville a week ago and in Greensboro in the second round the year before that and in Indianapolis the year before that. As different as the rosters and styles of play have been, the tightness when the team took the court is the same. This year’s is the most glaring. All season, Calipari preached that this team was “Built for March.” With eight freshmen, including Reed Sheppard, whose legacy story and talent roped in even the most disgruntled Kentucky fan, Cal pushed his chips in on the postseason, a risky gamble in a make-or-break postseason. Despite a very talented group who played a ridiculously fun style, it not only didn’t pay off, it also set a perilous path for what’s ahead.
That brings me back to the numbness. Last night, I interpreted it as the relief that of all the scenarios that faced Kentucky this postseason, a first-round exit brought with it the most certain of consequences: an end. I’ve covered this program in a full-time capacity since the 2012-13 season, part-time a few years longer. As a media member, John Calipari is the only basketball coach I’ve known. Even before the pandemic, his press conferences were repetitious, a Mad Lib of one-liners. Now, it’s shots at the media and/or fans with little actual basketball talk and a lot of gaslighting. No one should question Calipari’s love for his players, but at this point, it’s beyond fair to question his motives. Is he playing to win or to prove other people wrong?
The unfortunate victim in all of this is the bond between team and fan, as cherished at Kentucky than at any other school. Because of all the reasons mentioned above, it’s been increasingly harder for the Big Blue Nation to buy in. This team, more than any other squad since the 2016-17 group, had us doing that. Now, because of Calipari’s “Built for March” gamble and the toxicity behind the scenes, it’s over way too soon. There was no confetti moment, no cutting of nets, not even in Nashville. Instead, we have some road wins, a neutral site victory over North Carolina, a home win over Alabama, and a GLOBL Jam gold medal. This team deserved more. This fanbase deserves more.
When I woke up in Pittsburgh this morning, the numbness was gone; in its place is the worry that the certain outcome may not be so certain. If Kentucky doesn’t come up with Calipari’s staggering $33.4 million buyout or a compromise is made, we’re in for at least one more year of this, and who, at this point, wants that? For what it’s worth, Calipari is setting his feet into place, closing his press conference with talk of next year’s freshmen class and what a rebuild could look like. If you think things are uncomfortable now, just wait for year 16.
My first core memory as a Kentucky Basketball fan was The Shot in 1992. It ripped me apart, even at seven years old, setting a foundation for a lifelong commitment to a rotating group of kids and a basketball. Now, NCAA Tournament first-round losses barely elicit emotion. The definition of insanity is repeating the same thing over and over again expecting a different result. I just hope I’m not a piece of leather by the end of it all.
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