When I was a child, we played a silly game called fruit basket turnover. These last few weeks, I have felt as if I have been in a fruit basket, turning topsy turvy. My emotions about “SkankGate” are all jumbled.
At first, I was stunned with the news reports. Shocked. Thrown back against the wall.
Mystified. How could this have happened?
Angry. How could this be truthful?
Disgusted. Wall-to-wall media coverage, conclusions reached prematurely. Guilty until proven innocent.
Betrayed. By her. By Andre McGee, maybe. By players we cared about.
Aggravated. By media attention spotlighting a brazen, money hungry prostitute.
Outraged. By a mother who puts her children in harm’s way. And brags about it.
Sad. That a whole student body, a fandom, and a city itself are smeared by her outrageous story.
Skeptical. If the scenarios in the book are true, is UofL the only school where this happens?
Curious. How could this go on for several years with not one “leak” on any social media?
Embarrassed. By some fans calling for Coach Pitino to resign or be fired; some threatening to no longer wear their red and black.
Ashamed. Of those “fans” for rushing to judgment.
Frustrated. The investigation process will drag on a long, long time.
Impatient. For answers. For rebuttals. For explanations.
Encouraged. That there is at least one local sportswriter (Eric Crawford) in the mainstream media who tries to be objective and thorough.
Charmed. By two teammates who brave a media storm to answer questions about a scandal of which they had no part. And their honesty and good humor.
Hopeful. The season still can be a success. And fun. And even laudatory.
But mostly tired. Of the whole mess.