Shootin’ hoops with Tubby in the Halls of the House that Rupp Built

Do you ever do things that seem pretty cool, but when considered from another’s viewpoint are stratospherically special? Shootin’ hoops with University of Kentucky Basketball coach Tubby Smith this morning was one of those things.

We were photographing Coach and his wife, Donna, in our store's UK apparel at Memorial Coliseum, one of the most storied and special venues in all of basketball. This is “the house that Rupp built” in the 50’s and was the site of the penultimate passion of Kentucky Basketball until Rupp Arena’s debut in 1977.

I looked over to where the Man in the Brown Suit sat and my seats just a few rows behind him. Even though I at least had the presence of mind as a 10 year old to appreciate how lucky I was to have such cheeky seats, looking back now I realize just how special those days truly were.

There was Cotton Nash in the early sixties. Then the most incredible, unbelievably precise and finely tuned team I have EVER seen—Rupp’s Runts. No player taller than Lexington’s own, 6’5” Thad Jaracz. The stars were Pat Riley, Larry Conley, Louie Dampier and Tommy Kron.

You’ve never seen such passing and teamwork as the Runts displayed game after game. They romped, and romped, and romped until….Texas Western, now UTEP. Kentucky and Rupp were later painted as the last holdout to integrationist athletics, although the other Final Four teams—Duke and Utah—were also lily white.

TW played brilliantly in victory. I still recall seeing the “NCAA Champions!” sweatshirt in our store window, wondering whatever happened to it and how many others we had to throw away.

Then I saw the mystical, magical Pete Maravich, floppy socks, flappy hair and dead eye 60% downtown shooting. Rupp would tell his players to “let Pete shoot, you ain’t gonna stop him.” So he’d get his 50 and the Cats would win.

One of my most memorable games was when Lou Bellos refereed the UK/LSU game. He was a showman as much as a referee. My older cousin, Louis Kawaja, who took me to the game, still talks about that game.

Then there was more LSU excitement with their new coach, Dale Brown, who got so heated he took his plaid sportcoat off and flung it to mid court. Afterwards in a typically Dale Brown-esque interview about that he responded to sportswriter, Billy Reed, “well, what would you say if I asked you ‘do you masturbate?’” HELLO!

There was Ernie Grunfeld sneaking free throws for another Vol who was actually fouled in a Ray Mears-led Tennessee upset (seemed the Vols always beat the Cats!). Then there was the amazing Kentucky comeback against Kansas—9 points in under a minute... BEFORE the three existed!

But today, it was just me and Tubby shootin’ hoops. Coach Smith draining three after three, beautiful arcing shots that saw nothing but net. Let me tell you, Tubby is among the most gracious, classy persons I know—high profiled coach or not. I love him and respect him immensely. He is so humble, approachable and genuine that it is easy to take for granted that I was shooting hoops with a premiere coach of THE premiere basketball program in the world. How many Kentucky Kids (young AND old) would give their eye tooth to be doing this!?

I never got to know Coach Rupp as well, but I did get to meet him once back in '66. I was at a luncheon honoring my cousin Louis’ graduation from law school at the old Imperial House Hotel. It was the middle of the week and so when I shook Coach Rupp’s big warm paw, he asked me in his long drawn out drawl “son, why aren’t you in scho-o-u-h-l-l?”

Good lord, there are so many Rupp stories and his interviews were so entertaining…”wel-l-l, I told the boys you’ve got to guard that number ee-lev-in, he’s running WI-L-L-L-D!” referring to some obscure Mississippi player who scored 8 of their 10 first half points in a Kentucky blow out.

Thanks dad, thanks uncles, thanks Coach Smith (Tubby)…and thank you Coach Rupp—I’ve seen history, and on the shoulders of giants, can witness it still.


RFD 9/28/05

On Meeting Max Cleland

Had other humans acted more humane today’s embrace of this human may not have been so special. Of course, any meeting with a Vietnam veteran who overcomes severe wounds to become a successful public servant is significant.

But meeting Max Cleland was altogether different. On April 8, 1968, during the siege of Khe Sanh, he stepped off a helicopter and saw a grenade at his feet, which he assumed he had dropped. Turned out another soldier had dropped it. When he reached down to pick it up, it exploded, ripping off both legs and his right hand.

Imagine what he must have felt during the ensuing months of recovery. No legs, one arm, his JFK-inspired dreams to better the world blasted beyond comprehension. Yet he overcame the improbable and in 1970, at 28 became the youngest person ever elected to the Georgia state senate.

In 1977 President Jimmy Carter appointed him to head the Veterans Administration. In 1982 he was elected as Georgia's secretary of state. In 1996 he was elected to the U.S. Senate, defeating businessman Guy Millner in a very close race.

In the senate he was a moderate, generally conservative on fiscal matters and liberal on social ones. He was a reliable vote for military spending and bucked his party by supporting the Bush tax cuts in 2001.

During his 2002 senate race another explosion shook his life. But this one was deliberately and carefully planted to exact the maximum harm by the most vicious combatant: his Republican machine-run opponent, Saxby Chambliss.

The GOP attack ads against Max were the cruelest and most untruthful frauds in what is typically routine for today’s Republican party. The ads opened with pictures of Osama Bin Laden and Saddam Hussein, then Max. "As America faces terrorists and extremist dictators," said a narrator, "Max Cleland runs television ads claiming he has the courage to lead. He says he supports President Bush at every opportunity, but that's not the truth. Since July, Max Cleland voted against President Bush's vital homeland security efforts 11 times!"

In fact, Max supported the Democratic version of the Patriot Act, so he joined most other democrats in opposing the blank check GOP version.

Two Republican senators, John McCain and Chuck Hagel, both of them Vietnam veterans, immediately denounced the ads. "I've never seen anything like that ad," says McCain. "Putting pictures of Saddam Hussein and Osama bin Laden next to a picture of a man who left three limbs on the battlefield -- it's worse than disgraceful, it's reprehensible."

"Max Cleland has given as much to this country as any living human being," Hagel says. "To say he is in some way connected to people like Osama bin Laden and Saddam Hussein was beyond offensive to me. It made me recoil, quite honestly."

Those ads portrayed the utterly decrepit, evil nature of the GOP propaganda machine. No lie to great, no means too vile. Max Cleland became for me a key inspiration to change this corrupt system—yea, dare I dream, even to save our democracy from the rot within.

So it was that when I met him today Max looked at me as though he KNEW me, he instantly reached his big left arm out to hug me close, as he does everybody. “God bless you brother, keep the faith,” he told me. It was incredibly moving.

Max has overcome it all--with love, with hope, with purpose. He is, whether he realizes it or not, leading me onwards. Thank you, Max.


Rfd 9/18/05

An I-Pod Shuffle Through Rural Kentucky

I love Kentucky. I love Kentuckians. One of the joys of my job is visiting our stores around the state. My routes often take the most scenic country roads with way more brush than bustle.

Today’s 8-hour jaunt to Glasgow, Bowling Green, Elizabethtown and Bardstown was tailor made for my I-Pod, which I let “shuffle.” The digital DJ’s chance selections are just cool. I mean, come on—Bach, then Beatles; James Brown then James Taylor.

Beyond the offbeat juxtaposition of songs, today’s mix was coincidentally fraught with meaning and memories. It started with Dionne Warwick’s wailing “I’ll never fall in love again.” Well, after my nearly completed divorce, I may or may not, but I can tell you this: I’d rather NOT “fall” in love. Never was a term more aptly put! Love should be a state that is RISEN to, not a hellhole in which to fall.

Then, another 60’s standout, the Fifth Dimension’s Save the Country…”Come on people, come on children, come on down to the glory river… We can build a dream with love…I can’t study war no more. Save the people, save the children, Save the country--NOW!”

Marilyn McCoo on Love’s Lines Angles and Rhymes is simply incomparable. All the recent so-called divas couldn’t hold the mike for her, Dionne, Aretha and their ilk, not even close.

To further add credence to my belief that the 60’s saw the peak of musicality the next song was Blood Sweat and Tears’ version of God Bless the Child…”Them that’s got shall get, them that’s not shall lose, so the Bible says, and it still is news.” With today’s disparity between the wealthiest and the poorest greater than it has ever been Billie Holiday’s words ring so true.

Yet as if to prevent my falling into deep despair the Beach Boys reminded me, “Don’t Worry Baby!” There is no better perfectionist than Brian Wilson. He came mentally undone while working on Pet Sounds, critically regarded as THE best album of all time. Brian’s massive solo effort (the group was touring while Brian, with some help from lyricist Tony Asher, toiled day and night on it) actually inspired the Beatle’s Sgt. Pepper’s Lonely Heart Club Band, considered one or two along with Pet Sounds. (PS, McCartney’s favorite song is God Only Knows, and remember, the Beatles had a huge cast to work out their masterpieces).

Next came one of my favorites, America, doing the obscure, Here…”I am thinking about the days we led ourselves astray in more than many ways. Here within the time we spend wonderin’ what we meant by living all those years…” How timely for me as I’ve been considering some major changes in my life as a result of asking this same question.

“Coventry Carol” was a wonderful hint of the holiday season to come, just a little teaser of the ‘Most Wonderful Time of the Year!”

I then switched to the radio in time to hear John Robert’s Senate Confirmation hearings on NPR. He was discussing the two views of the 2nd Amendment’s right to bear arms: circuits have held it either as an individual right or a collective one. Personally, I believe individuals have the right to their guns. While I would prefer a world with no weapons, this is a utopian ideal that we will be working towards for many years to come.

As if to confirm my opinion the very next song had the Beatle’s remind me that indeed “Happiness is a Warm Gun.” And Dooley Wilson continued this theme with his prescription for happiness: just “Knock On Wood” (from the Casablanca soundtrack). I kid you not, in just this order!

Chicago re-called my youthful idealism with “We Can Make It Happen, We Can Change the World” in Dialogue: Part Two. Following that was Lexington’s own Marvin Gaye singing “Right On!” Right on, Marvin, rest in peace brother.

James Brown echoed with Soul Power, then K.C. and the Sunshine Band “I’m Your Boogie Man,” John Denver, Bach, then another favorite, Crosby Stills Nash—not sure if Young was on this one—“Find the Cost of Freedom—buried in the ground…mother earth will swallow you, lay your body down.”

So many questions do I have. Collective compassion versus individual responsibility. The beauty of freedom versus the blight of excess. The “invisible hand” versus the gamed system. Can I make a difference? Can anyone?

Hope is found on the last song of the trip, from the all time best album, the afore-mentioned Pet Sounds, “I KNOW THERE’S AN ANSWER.” Thanks, Brian. I love you, man.

Rfd 9/14/05

The Last Cicada

BZZZZ-Z-Z-Z! BZZZZ-Z-Z-Z! The verdant path through the neighborhood forest now rings with the call of just one. One lonely sycophant still searching for its mate.

Weeks earlier the tropical canopy was a deafening riot of screaming cicadas, each trying to out-maneuver the next. Imagine your lifetime of sexual energy condensed to one 30-day period. The maniacal buzzing and whirring went non-stop 24/7, so loud and frantic it was comical.

For 17 long years these nymphs sucked sap deep underground from the tall trees’ roots. Finally mature, they’ve come out and shed their skin for their summer prom, engagement, honeymoon and funeral all in just a few short weeks.

My evening walk’s now mostly calm, save this last cicada. Why, pray tell, is he still unmated? Pimples? Shy? Two left feet? Too picky? Off key?

Are the females all gone that his wails go in vain?

Or maybe he don’t give a damn, he just wants to be the last man standin’.

The toughest dude of the brood.

The last cicada.

Rfd September, 2005

Why Government? Oh Say We Now See!

Cross-country flights leave plenty of time for the news. Post-flood Louisiana looting. Fighting and raping in the lawless Superdome, now a den of anarchy where ruthlessness, hopelessness, fear and greed seem to rule.

Fine, friendly and generous people in any other “normal” circumstance, i.e. at work, with friends at a restaurant, at a child’s ball game, in a mall…or even on a laptop in a cool, air-conditioned airport with I-tunes and Starbucks in tow. Hard to imagine such genteel civility morphing to barbarism.

But when the right—rather, WRONG--situation arises, with a lethal mix of imprisonment, scarcity, desolation and isolation, rare it would be for even a Saint to remain so. I’m reminded of Winthorp (Dan Aykroyd) in Trading Places, but tragically, this southern scene is no made-for-TV reality show.

The malefactors of evil—birthed this time by Mother Nature--appear to dominate. [Query: Does evil become less so when from the hand of God instead of from man?]. Yet we know that the good far outweighs the bad. Certainly there are countless acts of human kindness throughout that troubled land.

And millions more beyond. The fellow next to me on the plane is meeting his friend in Atlanta and will then drive all night to their boat in the gulf to help in the rescue operation. A sympathetic America is rushing to send money, supplies and volunteers. And at last, the National Guard and government aid is making its way.

It is a great opportunity for unity in a cause greater than any one individual or group. It is a time for sharing and sacrifice for the greater good. It is, in short, the most crystallized example of government’s purpose and the good it—WE—can do when properly focused.

Thus, I was stung with irony at the day’s other news items:

1) The Bush Administration had cut FEMA’s budget and stature since they took office, specifically cutting flood protection in the New Orleans levies;
2) Lack of government oversight allowed developers to destroy wetlands and barrier islands that might have held back the hurricane’s surge;
3) The same experts who foresaw this inevitable tragedy say that man-made global warming will increase the intensity of future hurricanes;
4) Tennessee has dropped 200,000 working poor from its health care program, Tenn-Care, for budgetary reasons.

Each of these items shows the corruption of governmental purpose and potential from within by self-interest, greed and ideology that are too often opposed to the Greater Public Interest.

Yet, those who are the quickest to condemn and shrink government are the FIRST to flood it with demands for aid when they are in need, whether it be corporate subsidies, tax breaks, bail-outs, or direct aid when storms wreak havoc.

The Gulf catastrophe clarifies our crying need for government that is responsive to this Greater Public Interest, much like the Crash and Depression did in the 1930’s.

Better the day that we embrace this need when the seas of life are calm.

Richard F. Dawahare 9/3/05