A few Sundays ago, your world got a little darker if you are a cats fan. With only a few seconds left on the clock UK had just tied it up, we couldn't be happier! We all cheered and jumped and looked at one another in disbelief. Only to be brought down once again by a dumb ole UNC player. He just snuck right in there and gained the lead again with 0.3 seconds left on the clock. That's what I like to call Kentucky pain.
The pain of knowing that we were so close yet so far away, the pain of knowing that if we could've blocked that one little shot, we could have won the whole thing. Kentucky pain is so real to everyone who goes here, alum, and Drake. But, with this Kentucky pain comes a whole lot of Kentucky pride.
I am a sophomore now, and my freshman year when we returned back from Spring break, we were already out of the tournament. So, this year when I came back I had to idea what to expect. My expectations were exceeded. With every advance in the tournament, a certain joy spread through out campus. Professors went lighter on assignments, students were friendlier, and campus had an overall brighter atmosphere.
Every time the Cats won, students flooded state street. The atmosphere was indescribable as people were cheering, yelling, dancing, hugging, and jumping. All while the S.W.A.T. team casually stood by waiting for something horrible to happen. It felt like we were all one big family out there cheering on our favorite little basketball players doing what they do best.
On the Sunday we lost, we all timidly came out of our houses on state street, unsure if we should cheer or cry. Consolation high fives? No one was sure. We were experiencing Kentucky pain. That so-close-almost-had-it pain, that hope-for-a-better-year-next-year pain. We wept when we saw the video of Fox and his teammates crying, and we were inspired when we saw Coach Cal give a consolation speech. Cats fan through the through, clinging on to hope of the next year.
That's Kentucky pain, and I wouldn't want any other kind.
