As March’s bouncy ball bacchanalia grips Nacho-America, I came upon this article at National Review.
Every conservative should root for Kentucky basketball
The obvious question isn’t “why?” But rather, what the hell would National Review know about conservatism? As it turns out, even less than you think.
As the NCAA tournament starts rolling today, the rooting interest of the conservative world should be clear: John Calipari’s Wildcats are the only reasonable choice…
What about law and culture? Simply put, the Kentucky Wildcats are the free-market thorn in the Marxist NCAA’s side. Unable to pay the players who generate staggering revenues for their program — and thus coerced into complicity with the liberal NCAA’s outrageous exploitation of its athletes — Kentucky has done the next best thing: It has transformed itself into a vocational school for the NBA.
So a voluntary arrangement of free room, board, tuition, and coeds for an 18 year old boy is ‘outrageous exploitation.’ Fortunately the free-market is here to brace our swoon.
Drake [who?] hangs out in the UK locker room. LeBron is a fan. The message is clear: Come to Kentucky, and you will reach your full earning potential, on the court and off.
Now we’re penetrating into the succulent marrow of conservatism:💰💴💵💷💶💳💸. This is what your soul will bear to the ecumenical afterlife. Money. Everything else is racist or irrelevant.
But conservatives aren’t just about dollars. We believe in conducting our free-market lives with honor and integrity.
Exactly. Outsource jobs, insource labor, and offload costs until the streets run red with integrity. The point being that conservatism has come to mean little more than maximizing margins…with honor.
If college basketball is being destroyed by Kentucky, don’t mourn the end. Just sit back and enjoy the destruction.
Sit back and enjoy the destruction. That should be that magazine’s tagline. Certainly its editors aren’t moved to any form of resistance. And I thought the piece had something to do with basket-ball.
But since we’re on the topics, I have my own archaic opinion of what conservatism on the court might entail. Not NBA rookie contracts or shoe deals. But something organic. An institution tied to its people. Advancing the interests of those who founded it. Heritage, pride, and continuity. Actual Kentucky basketball. A public state university fielding a team of its own sons, not sojourning mercenaries in satin pajamas. In contrast, here are the hometowns of Kentucky’s top ten players.
Grand Rapids, Michigan
Metuchen, New Jersey
Brooklyn, New York
Richmond, Texas (x2)
How about those Kentucky basketball players? But without them we wouldn’t win whines the rebuttal. I regret to advise, but you aren’t winning anything as is. You are a prop for an enterprise. A tool…in more ways than one. The African gladiators in receipt of your adulation return the sentiment to a precisely zero extent. Would there not be deeper satisfaction in cheering for young men of your own? Those who perhaps shared your roots and culture? Maybe even ones who felt genuine emotion rather than nose-picking boredom at the playing of My Old Kentucky Home? Is winning more important than what you have lost? I think the answer is on ample display.
Leather lunged fans aren’t rooting for anything related to themselves, their home, or people. They’re roaring for a jersey. What occupies it is wholly irrelevant. If eight foot predatory alien cephalopods in water helmets descended into Lexington, mothers would shield their children while shrieking in horror. But drape a blue tank-top with a prominent K over its writhing mass and suddenly Hey there’s Nimrakk the Devourer! Averaging 18 points and 9 boards, awesome. Can we have your autograph? It’s all quite embarrassing. But circuses have been effective at their task for a very long time. I may as well lament the very nature of human frailties…while reading National Review. And life’s duration is too brief for either.
Though regardless, I’m going to watch some tournament games. That there is time for. I have my own preferred peripatetic troop and will accrue great reservoirs of emotional gratification at their success–as it reflects well on those of us adorned in licensed team apparel.
So I’ll be rooting for the team of black guys. See you at the big dance.