OK, if you know me at all, you probably wondered what I was alluding to with days and weeks, but the years part no doubt gave it away. If you don’t know me, all will be answered in due time.
I digress. This all started when I began wondering what you could accomplish in 9,863 days.
You could fight World War II seven times. (That is, IF you consider World War II starting when we declared war on Japan. If you start when Germany invaded Poland, we could have fought it nearly 4 1/2 times! Either way, Churchill rocks!)
America’s longest serving President, Franklin Delano Roosevelt served 4,422 days as President. H
e could have served TWICE that amount, we could have thrown in Gerald Ford’s Presidency (895 days) and STILL have had time for William Henry Harrison (32 days). The other three months Al Haig could have handled. (By the way, I don’t like smoking but FDR did look rather dapper with that cigarette holder!)
If you conceived a child on day one, that child could be grown, out of college, and already be a doctor or a lawyer after 9,863 days. (Or you could have taken a shortcut and had TWO Justin Biebers!!!)
Trip to the moon? Piece of cake. It took the Apollo astronauts a little over 3 days (pedal to the metal) to get to the moon. Figuring the same for a return flight, you and I could have gone to the moon 1,578 times over the last 9,863 days.
Through yesterday morning, it had been 9,863 days, or 1,409 weeks, or just simply 26 years since the University of Kentucky football team had beaten Tennessee. 9,863 days of orange tainted misery. 9,863 days of first and goal from the 2 for a win and Mark Higgs not making it in four consecutive tries. 9,863 days of Lonas Seiber missing the field goal in overtime. 9,863 days of the echos of the most annoying fight song in the history of mankind.
A University of Kentucky football team, which had performed pretty lousy all year, with no bowl on the horizon for the first time in five years, found itself with two injured quarterbacks going into the final game. They grabbed a wide receiver (who frankly had had his trouble actually “receiving” this year), and made him their starter. They put together roughly a dozen plays, on one sheet of paper, and that was their game plan. (Half of those plays they didn’t really WANT to use.)
And then, they didn’t tell. Not friends. Not families. Certainly not the media. And most of all, not the dreaded orange horde from down under.
And when the game started,
WR, er.. QB Matt Roark began his final game in a UK uniform. Behind the center. A position he hadn’t seen since high school. Three hours that would take him to legend status. Status that should cease him from ever having to pay for a meal in this state again. Ever. 9,863 days to the tenth power ever!
Matt Roark is the new ‘Rudy’. But unlike the OLD ‘Rudy’, Matt Roark played an entire game, in a position that wasn’t his, and its all documented right there on video tape. (One play, fictionalized as it is, does not a career make! Well, unless you’re Rudy Ruettiger. He seems to have worked it out pretty well.)
9,863 days and it ended.
Kentucky 10, Tennessee 7
This blog is about me. About the things that interest me. About the things that influence me. About the things I care about.
I’ve covered UK sports for many years. I’ve never apologized for the fact that I’m also a fan. I’ve worked with the radio network, the TV network, and I’ve hosted a talk show dedicated to UK football and basketball. I’ve called coaches, staff, and players friends. I’ve called the bad when I see it (Bill Curry with Tim Couch in the option, anything Billy Gillispie), and I’ve called the good. I’ve driven at LEAST a hundred thousand miles on my own dime.
I will admit my bias. I have no problem with you knowing that this is MY TEAM. I’ve always wished them the best, but I’ve rarely looked through rose colored glasses. (Roses are red. I’ll have blueberry colored glasses, TY!)
November 26, 2011.
Did I mention it was my birthday?
And I received the greatest birthday gift of my adult life.
Just 9,863 days after the SECOND greatest birthday gift of my adult life.
Thanks, Matt Roark. Thanks, Joker Phillips. Thanks, Jerry Claiborne.
Happy birthday to me!
(And please don’t wait 9,863 days for my next gift. I’m really not sure I’ll make it.)