The Big Blue Nation lost a name from its collective past this week and I lost a friend. Only the oldest Wildcat fans would remember the name of Jim Dinwiddie – he was a reserve guard for Coach Rupp from 1968-71. Even those who remember him wearing the blue and white would likely say he wasn’t a great ball player and his career stats back that up – 3.8 ppg and 2.5 rpg in 72 games played. Jim had a two-game tear during his senior season where he hung a career high of 17 on Vandy and followed that up with a 13-point effort against Auburn. In a different time, Jim may have had a bigger impact on the court but he played with some greats - Issel, Casey, Steele and others.

Jim’s impact on my life began a few years after he graduated and returned to Leitchfield to begin his law practice. I was a young boy when he and my father struck up a friendship. I was always fascinated with the tall lanky guy who always smiled. I had known Jim for a few years before I learned that he played basketball for Kentucky and a few years more before I appreciated what that meant to people. I just knew him as a kind man who always spoke and always spoke positively.

My first trip to Rupp Arena came through a gift from Jim. I had been to see a couple of those great UK-Notre Dame matchups in Freedom Hall but I had never seen a game in Rupp until Jim called in December of 1981 to offer my dad his tickets to the UKIT.

By the time I was 12 and, while excited to visit Lexington, I wasn’t full blown Blue. If I listed my favorite things at that time in my life, my Converse shoes, my 10-speed, Big League Chew and the BB gun I had at my grandparents’ house would have topped the list. UK basketball might have been in there somewhere but it is difficult for someone that age to grasp the width and breadth of the whole thing.

That first trip to Rupp turned the concept of UK basketball into reality for me. I still remember the conversation that Cawood and I had when he signed my prgram and I remember the words my father spoke when he introduced me to Gov. Happy Chandler. The game itself is insignificant in the history of Kentucky basketball – just one of the 2000+ wins. But my signed program from that obscure contest became a treasured possession that I would proudly show my friends for years after. The time I spent with my father that day is one of the best two or three memories of my entire childhood.

Over the years, I have thanked Jim a hundred times for the tickets that provided these memories but I never told him why I was so thankful. He might have even considered it odd that I continued to express my gratitude well into my adult years. If he did think it strange, he never let on. Instead be would just smile and tell me I was welcome.

Jim eventually gave up his season seats and later in his life had mixed feelings about Big Blue Nation. As a Christian, he felt that some people spent too much of their passion rooting for a sports team when they should have been devoting that energy to God. Jokingly, I would ask him if God was guiding those elbows he would throw when we played pickup games on the court behind the First Baptist Church.

When they put the new floor in Memorial Coliseum a few years ago, I was lucky enough to end up with a few pieces. I built a shadow box for my father and placed one piece in the center, surrounded by pictures from the great teams that played in that historic building. I knew Jim must have spilled a lot of sweat on that old floor and so I planned to make one for him as well. But before I could get it started, life got in the way and I put it on the back burner.

A few months ago, I saw Jim when I was out eating lunch. We talked for a few minutes and I suddenly remembered what I had planned to do. So I told him that I had something special that I wanted him to have and that I would bring it by sometime soon.

I was planning on writing this all down for him in a letter to accompany the gift. I had thought that I would explain to him what that trip to Rupp Arena did for me. I was planning on telling him that his generosity provided a man with the some great childhood memories. I was planning to tell him that his gift of two tickets to an insignificant basketball game provided a spark that allowed my father and I to share common ground during the years when we didn’t agree on anything else in the world. I was planning on telling him that, when times got better between my father and I, having those memories gave us something to talk about until other words came easier. I was planning on telling him that, even though we sometimes take it too far, having something that you can share with others during a bad time is never a bad thing.

I never had the chance to tell him of the impact he had on my life because Jim, the man who was always smiling and never without a kind word (or a sharp elbow if you tried to belly up with him in a pickup game), took his own life.

If you spent any time with Jim later in his life, you most likely walked away from him with a self-help book in your hand or a list of bible passages that he selected to try to help you find your path. His own path apparently eluded him and his importance to others must have been lost to him as well.

If I had been able to follow through with my gift to Jim, I don’t believe it would have made any difference in any of the choices he made or how he viewed his life. But I sure would like to have had the opportunity to give it, and tell him the story that goes along with it.

Personally, I'm gonna go about my business today.  I will ignore the butterflies and the low level tension headache and do some yardwork this morning.  Then make a run to town for supplies this afternoon.  I will not watch the first half of the Butler-VCU game as I will use this time to dust the UK stuff I have scattered around the house.  I will settle into my recliner during the middle of the second half of Butler-VCU and that is where I will remain until we advance to the championship game.

It's funny how things get stuck in your head and rattle around there for a while, popping up at the oddest times.  Everyone has experienced the strange sensory sensation of having a song repeat over and over in their minds (and they don't even have to be songs we like, which is kind of maddening).

After responding to a post on this site asking "Can We Admit Which Type of Fan We Really Are?", I started thinking about my first few years as a Kentucky fan.  I began to remember things that had been previously lost in my head and it made me want to rustle around in the attic for things I was sure were long gone.

So while most everyone else in the state was glued to the Run for the Roses last weekend, I was knee-deep in insulation, dust and my memories.  Like many of you, I pretty much started life as a UK fan.  My dad put a UK basketball in my crib.  When I was 4, I got my first football uniform for Christmas, complete with a shiny white helmet, on which my mother drew a big "K" with a MarksALot.

Spending most of Christmas break with my grandparents in Horse Cave, Kentucky was fun because they would let me stay up late to watch UK tape delays on WAVE-3 out of Louisville (Channel 3 was one of two stations they could reliably pick up on the antenna).  

When I was 12 or so, my parents bought a Chevy van (no references to ‘Bread' or ‘Sounds from the 70s', please), which my father immediately had painted UK blue.  My mother, being an artist, painted a Wildcat in a football uniform on one side, a Wildcat dribbling a basketball on the other side, and a little Wildcat (the Wildkitten-looking thing that was used as a logo for a while) on each of the front fenders.  A spare tire cover with the UK logo on it and an 8-track tape player (with plenty of Bob Seger) and we were in business.

Sorry, I wander a bit at times.  Let's get back to it.

What I was looking for specifically on Saturday were game programs and other items I collected as a youngster.  And, amid piles of old toys, newspapers and nick-nacks, I hit the motherlode.

When I opened the first box marked "STUFF - DON'T THROW AWAY!", I found a set of UK bookends I had painted circa 1974.  My mother was into ceramics at the time and she drug me along one day to see the ceramics shop.  I remember finding two things that day that really impressed me - a bust of Abe Lincoln and that set of bookends.  My mother bought both for me and I painted them the next day.  They held up my most-treasured books until the day I left home to go to college.

Right underneath the bookends was a game program that proclaimed:

University of Kentucky Wildcats vs. The Fighting Irish of Notre Dame

December 30th, 1976

Freedom Hall

Louisville, KY

That was the first Wildcat game I ever saw in person.  I remembered sitting in the rafters of Freedom Hall, looking down at what seemed to be a drop of roughly 10,000 feet to the floor.  While walking up to our seats, I didn't look back for fear that I might freeze in place and turn into a pillar of salt like Lot's wife.  I had never been in a place that big or a spot that high in my life.  My cousin, who was two years older and much worldlier, had no problem negotiating the steps and that was the only thing that kept me going - he was not going to get the better of me!

After a while, I got used to the height, size and noise of Freedom Hall and got to enjoy one hell of a basketball game, at least from the Kentucky point of view.  Looking at the notes my father scribbled on the back of that program, I saw where he had kept track of every player's points by their jersey number (by the way, Jack Givens had 30 points that day on 15 of 19 field goals).  In the end, the #6-ranked Cats ran the #2-ranked Irish out of Freedom Hall and half way back to South Bend.  The final score was 102-78 and the good guys had won my eternal devotion.

We made the trip to Louisville for the Notre Dame match-up the next year as well.  On New Year's Eve, 1977, just a few months shy of winning the fifth national championship in the program's history, Kentucky handed the Irish a 73-68 loss.  Goose had another big one with 18 points and 10 rebounds and the new kid on the block, Kyle Macy, pitched in 18.  Notre Dame was stocked with a few names you may remember - Bill Laimbeer, Orlando Woolridge and Kelly Tripuka.

The late 70's were a difficult time for a lot of people financially and my family wasn't any different.  It would be a couple of years before I saw the Cats play again in person and the kindness of a friend made it possible.

To be continued...

http://news.yahoo.com/s/ap/20090419/ap_on_sp_co_ne/bkc_pitino_extortion

I have to admit I am baffled.  It would seem that if someone actually went to the news media with something damaging, they would have to have some sort of proof to back it up, regardless of the nature of the allegations.

I am very interested to see what develops from this.  Pitino has fired the first shot publically and it doesn't seem to me that you do that unless you expect the information to be printed in short order.

why would anyone want Calipari?  I have posted this a couple of times but I was late to the conversation and don't know how many actually read it.

Follow the link and read the whole thing, because this is the kind of "ambassador" we can expect if Calipari is hired here.

 http://men.style.com/gq/features/landing?id=content_5735

I say it again - this guy's career will in with a death penalty for some program.  He is sleazy beyond belief.

Oscar Combs made a very insightful comment prior to the last game (in spite of Dave Baker's repeated attempts to shut him down) that I believe deserves some serious thought before we have an announcement concerning our sideline leader for next season.

Oscar's point was this - UK fans have not gotten fully behind a coach since Rick Pitino flew to Boston.  And he believes that the basketball program won't ever be successful on an elite level until that happens.

I believe he was right.

When Tubby Smith took the reins, there was a sizeable portion of the fanbase that didn't what anything to do with him.  Many didn't believe he had the coaching credentials, the experience or the personal style needed to maintain the program at a high level.  And as the years wore on, many diehard fans became convinced he was leading us down the path to mediocrity.

Along comes Billy Gillispie to much fanfare (at least on the national level) and yet again a large portion of the fanbase wrings their hands and says he is not the man for the job.  Even as we went 12-4 in the SEC last season and had some nice wins over quality opponents, these fans still didn't believe he could win here on a yearly basis.

Neither coach enjoyed the support of more than 70% of the fans.

Can this be corrected?  I there a coach out there who could unite us?  And if there is, would he be crazy enough to want the job?

First off, being new to this site, I would like to congratulate the posters here for being genuine, thoughtful and realistic about a passion we all share.

These last few weeks have been very trying for everyone who loves the Big Blue.  The rumors swirling around this program have been a burden to what should be an entertaining time of year.

Make no mistake, good people, we have brought this on ourselves.  It all started with the Erruption Zone screaming for Coach Gillispie to play Alex Legion last season, continued through the boos for Michael Porter during various games in Rupp and culminated in the horrible final month of this regular season.

We have become a fanbase literally about to collapse under our own weight, too bloated and full of a sense of entitlement to realize or care that we are destroying the thing we are most passionate about.

Some people who should know better have made comments that deserve attention.

Does Kenny Walker (who was at one time my favorite former Cat) not understand that, if boosters and other had their way in 1975, he never would have had the chance to play for Joe Hall?  Hell, Dan Issel and others in his class wanted Coach Hall fired as an assistant because his conditioning program was too tough.

Dick Gabriel, a respected voice in Lexington, keeps harping on the Jeanine Edwards interviews as if Coach Gillispie dropped trow and mooned ESPN's cameras.  It stupifies the mind to imagine that this has been blown so totally out of proportion.  Most coaches, including Roy Williams, Jim Calhoun, Coach K, Rick Pitino, Bill Self and John Calipari, have had interviews that were less than stellar and have made comments that seemed brusque.  Were they endlessly dissected and cited as grounds for dismissal?

Dave "Buzz" Baker is another that keeps harping on this interview flap.  If Coach Gillispie's comments to Miss Edwards play a part in the decision about his future then Baker should be canned for his treatment of Oscar Combs on the call-in show prior to every game this season.

As the game in Memorial showed, true Kentucky fans can and will support their team and program though thick and thin.  And the thick times will return soon as long as we don't shoot ourselves in the foot by firing a good coach because of arrogance and the aforementioned sense of entitlement.  If Coach Gillispie goes, our prospects for a return to the top of college basketball go with him, at least for the foreseeable future.