Welcome to the world of UK basketball, Billy

By LAURNIE CAPRONI Guest Columnist

Thursday, April 12, 2007 10:10 PM EDT

It's up to you.

Allow me to explain: Don't pay a great deal of attention to what you read or hear in the national press. What the writers and talking heads know about UK basketball wouldn't fill a thimble.

For example:

You do not have to go to the Final Four every year. You do not have to make the Elite Eight every year. You don't even have to make the Sweet Sixteen every year.

One of the reasons is because you are on a very long leash right now. That means you get the benefit of the doubt.

And you will always have that benefit if you can remember (and act accordingly) one thing: Being the head basketball coach at the University of Kentucky is all about people.

That's right. People. The fans. Those who fill Rupp Arena. The many tens of thousands who watch TV, who listen to the radio, and who read newspapers.

It's not about players or Xs and Os. It's not about watching game film. And it certainly isn't about text messaging every high school player in the country.

It's about getting people to believe in you.

That said, let me tell you about Adolph Rupp.

When I do it won't be about the records Kentucky fans already know. It will be about those early years when Rupp ate, drank, slept, and dreamed basketball - just like they say you do, Billy.

It's about the real genius of Adolph Rupp, his remarkable ability to connect with and build bridges to the people.

That's your first job, Billy. You have to get off you butt and hit the road. You have to meet people in Maysville and Madisonville, in Bowling Green and Belfry, in Harrodsburg and Hazard, in Paintsville and Paducah.

You cannot do it with TV and radio programs. And charm won't cut it, either. You can get by on charm for about 15 minutes. After that you better know something. If you don't, UK fans will see through you in a heartbeat.

Adolph Rupp knew that instinctively. He spent years bouncing along Kentucky's corkscrew back roads. In the end, he knew virtually every judge, every mayor, every coach, and every anybody who was anybody in the entire state.

He also met a million other people along the way. And when he talked on the radio, in his goshawful flat-as-a-flitter midwestern twang, every one of those million believed he was talking directly to them.

Adolph Rupp, in 42 years, didn't make the final four or the NIT every year. Didn't come remotely close.

But it didn't make any difference to the people because he was one of them. That's what you have to do, Billy. Become one of us.

Read The Winning Tradition by Bert Nelli, Billy. It was written in 1984 (and has since been updated).

You'll know the history of UK basketball, something which is absolutely essential. The book will give you a road map to follow. Pay attention and the best job in the world will be yours all your working life.

Now . . .

Dear Billy:

Your last two Florida teams were as good, as tough, as smart, and as fun to watch as any I've ever seen. I wish every player you had wore Blue and White.

Joakim Noah, who ran the floor like Seabiscuit ran at Santa Anita, was something else.

Late last season, Joakim was asked something about the Kentucky Wildcats.

“You mean,” he answered, “The kitty cats?”

Meow.

We may not have liked it, but the Wild Child surely had a point. Big Blue had morphed from wild to mild and, finally, into docile kitty kats.

The other side of the coin is this:

1 - Joakim ran his smart mouth.

2 - You didn't want the Kentucky job.

3 - UK fans have a long memory.

The kitty cats are coming, Billy.

And what you'll hear won't be a meow, either.