Conversions

...But finally came last year's Eastertide bonanza...

...The 'Cats had blown a big lead or choked at the end, and my poor old man was off to Dutch Eddie's Saloon to drown his sorrows and the 'Cats' disgrace...

...And if once in a blue moon tires squealed and the car tore off, I knew that, for one night at least, the order of the universe had been upset...

...With an hour's worth of fiddling, ten yards of aluminum foil, and a few prayers, he could make his father-in-law's thirteen-inch circa 1954 Motorola black-and-white pick up the wispiest shadow of the game...

...In my penitence, I realized then that the Catholic liturgical calendar recapitulates the NCAA sched-ule...

...and they can never be entirely ridiculous...

...But of course my heart had already been prepared for the "one, holy, cath-olic, and apostolic" faith: I just had to recall the religious struggles of my fa-ther for clear radio and television re-ception to follow his beloved 'Cats...

...Even though my father finally has a national title under his belt and reliable cable reception at home, his game face still hasn't changed...

...1975, 1984,1992,1993,1995: all losses, by a few points, by a few seconds, or by a total breakdown...

...This couldn't be mere coincidence...

...The first Sunday of Advent, the be-ginning of the church year, falls on the annual UK-Indiana matchup CBS al-ways bills as the beginning of some-thing big...

...For me, this parallel is a compelling apol-ogy for Christianity by an updated ar-gument from design...

...I was received into the church a few years ago when UK was on probation for recruiting violations...

...I can't explain it...

...Inside, I could follow the course of the game by listen-ing to how the little Ford Fairline six-cylinder idled...

...THE LAST WORD CONVERSIONS Ken Colston Now that the University of Kentucky's men's basket-ball team, the Wildcats, is defending its national title (and still eligible for the NCAA tour-nament), it is time to reflect on the pro-found correlation between Roman Catholicism and college basketball...

...If it whined high, I knew the 'Cats were on a ten-point run...

...if it revved down, the squad's outside shoot-ing had gone cold...

...the regular-season conference games after Epiphany coincide with Or-dinary Time...

...the grueling, life-or-death tournaments get fought out during the most austere hours of Lent...

...Since the games we hijacked were frequently far along in the tournament, too often we'd only get to see Kentucky lose...

...a UK fan knows what it means to wait for certain glory...

...Occasionally, when by providence Channel 7 out of Dayton was carrying UK versus Duke or Marquette, my fa-ther would head up over the hill to its northeast side and my grandfather's house...

...I can't explain why a Kentucky cousin of mine shattered his television with an unopened six-pack in reaction to a coaching blunder, or why I still let out a whoop when a UK game comes over my short-wave radio...

...Have faith," he'd whisper gently...

...We lived at the foot of a curving hill that God had placed between us and the air waves from both Louisville and Cincin-nati to test the depth of our commitment...

...It's the face of a man who will die a little if his team loses-a face stricken with fear and ready to resort to prayer, the face of a parent sitting up with a sick child...

...It's still pale when UK is behind and all feverish when the 'Cats get hot...

...I am a true believer...

...All I know is that the same mys-terious foolishness blows the dying em-bers of love and need and belief...

...and the cho-sen Final Four rise with our Lord around Easter...

...I don't know what could turn a no-nonsense tobacco farmer into a silly sports fan, or his atheist son into a Roman Catholic...

...Invariably, on a wickedly cold night around Ash Wednesday, WHAS would come in so poorly on our electric Sears tube that my father would have to go outside and use his car transistor-to lis-ten to a mere conference game...

...Christians await a Sec-ond Coming...

...It was the 1960s in northern Kentucky...

...If the 'Cats stole the ball, I'd whoop out an "Alleluia," the picture would explode into a blizzard of static, and my father would shush me quiet with a glare, go rub the aluminum foil, baby the Motor-ola, and will that game back into being...

...The lights were dimmed, the tele-phone was off the hook, and the three of us leaned forward on our knees...

...The picture ain't going to hold," I'd say with the impatience of a doubtful adolescent...

...But those annual death experiences informed my soul two decades before my conversion...

...He'd freeze out there by himself, risk-ing frostbite and carbon-monoxide poisoning, warmed by no more than a pack of Winstons and the heater set on low lest it drown out the crooning play-by-play of Cawood Ledford...