In Kentucky, there’s a language of loyalty spoken only in shades of blue. It’s woven into family stories, weddings, births, and carried down like heirlooms, held together by the beating heart of the best fanbase in the world, the Big Blue Nation.
Whether you’re crammed around a living room TV, catching highlights, or keeping one ear on the radio while at the dinner table, you feel it deep in your bones. To be a part of this legacy is to live, breathe, and dream in sync with the Cats. Days are made when a win happens, and days are ruined with each loss.
It’s the call to gather close, high-five a friend, and grip the edge of your seat as the seconds tick down. It's rewinding the same VHS tapes of the '96 and '98 championship games as if each watch would somehow etch the memories deeper. (For you younger generations, it means racking up views on YouTube, no cap).
It's checking recruiting tapes and message boards, talking line-ups and substitution patterns, being a Basketball Bennie, and being proud of it.
After he suffered a stroke last Champions Classic, I wasn’t sure if I’d ever get to watch another game with my granddad (far right), let alone attend one. It was such a blessing to be able to usher in the Pope era with him, his cousin (middle), and my dad (my right). Go Cats. pic.twitter.com/ESovhac8tw
— Bradley (@270BradleySmith) November 5, 2024
For Mike Smith and his grandson Bradley, this tradition is an anchor in their relationship, like so many around the bluegrass state. They’ve been making the four-hour pilgrimage to Rupp Arena from Murray, KY, since Bradley was young, a cherished annual tradition carved out of a modest budget and stitched into the fabric of a loving family.
Like so many Kentuckians, Mike grew up rooting for the Cats. Bradley would sit beside his granddad, eyes wide, absorbing every shot, every cheer, and every tense silence as the ball was in the air. In those moments, the world shrank to a single gym in Lexington, no matter what else was happening in the world. The Cats were on, and if they won, everything was right, even if for just a brief moment.
For a while, time and distance threatened to make the tradition disappear. When Bradley moved to Memphis for college in 2017, life got in the way. The annual games faded from their calendar, replaced by phone calls and holiday visits.
Of course, the games were still watched—this is Kentucky, after all—but it wasn’t the same. When Bradley came back to Murray in 2022, they picked up right where they’d left off, tickets in hand, cheering on the Cats in person.
Bradley's wife called. Something was wrong with Mike.
Last year, though, something neither of them could've expected happened that threatened to change them both forever.
Just before the Champions Classic in Chicago, Bradley’s wife called. Mike wasn’t acting right, she said. By the time Bradley arrived, he knew something was wrong.
As they rushed to the hospital, Mike’s mind remained tethered to his love for Kentucky basketball. "I hope they let me out of here in time for the game," he murmured, his spirit as unbreakable.
In the ICU, the monitors beeped steadily as Mike and Bradley watched the game side-by-side, just as they always had. And though Mike’s comments were fewer, his passion never dimmed.
Every now and then, he’d mumble a comment or nod, never letting go of the rhythm of the game, even as he and Bradley wrestled with the uncertainty of what lay ahead; in that moment, they had the Cats and each other. For Bradley, the moment was definitely another reminder of just how fragile these traditions can be, and that goes for any of us.
Fast-forward to this year, and they made the journey again. This time, it wasn’t just a game; it was a celebration of resilience, of family, and of the fierce love that the people of Kentucky have for their Wildcats and for each other.
When deciding which game it would be, Bradley knew it had to be Pope's first official game in charge, as if this new chapter could honor all they’d come through together. On that long drive up, they laughed, talked basketball and traded stories as they have so many times before.
It's more than a sport, it's the heart of Big Blue Nation
For so many, Kentucky basketball is more than a sport; it’s a thread that ties people together. It binds relationships like this one together. Through good times and not-so-good times, the Cats are always there. And it’s these stories, filled with late-night replays, long drives, dissecting game tape, and the faithful support of a grandfather and grandson, like Bradley and Mike, that form the real heart of the BBN.
Do you have a Kentucky basketball story that runs deep? A tradition that’s kept your family close or a memory that makes you smile every game day? Tweet your story using the #MyKentuckyblue or message me directly here