Louisville basketball and the splendor of normalcy

Let's start with this: Normality is an illusion in all areas of life. There is no generally accepted standard. There are no generally accepted and clearly defined boundaries within which all “normal” activities must take place.

Since this truth, as previously mentioned, is applicable to all walks of life, it also applies to men's college basketball, which is what we will be talking about today.

The word “normal” feels especially out of place when used in the realm of a sport that is largely defined by “madness.”

There are 352 teams participating in Division I basketball this season. A normal season for North Carolina and a normal season for North Carolina A&T are two completely different things. The definition is only slightly easier to determine when looking specifically at each program. A national title-winning season or a Final Four run isn't exactly “normal” for the Tar Heels. Neither missing the NCAA Tournament nor missing a first-round upset.

For all intents and purposes, clarity in college basketball is the illusion that normalcy still exists.

Despite all of this, I firmly believe that when you read the following statement, you will understand it the same way I did: Tonight at 7 p.m., the Louisville men's basketball program will begin a season that will be great for the U of L fan base should feel overwhelmingly normal.

Louisville is not included in any of Humanity's Top 25 polls. Nobody expects the Cardinals to fail in the Final Four or play for a national championship. The ACC media picked the Cardinals to finish ninth in the league's preseason poll.

And yet here I am, legitimately giddy about the five months ahead of us.

Nothing has felt normal here for almost a decade.

Katina Powell, Andre McGee, a canceled postseason, a lost championship banner, the FBI investigation, a fired Hall of Fame coach, a fired athletic director, the David Padgett season, COVID, another canceled postseason, another extortion case, another FBI investigation, parting ways with a coach in the middle of a season, losing, losing, losing and losing some more.

In the midst of all these storms, there were more moments than I can count when people proclaimed that the clouds were clearing, that things were back to the way they should be. Unfortunately, the warm rays of normality never quite broke through. For almost ten years we remained confused, angry and in the dark.

At the lowest points of what we hope will be the lowest period in the program's history and which we now hope to put behind us forever, we all tended to utter those four all-too-easy-to-grasp-and-let-go words: my God, “it.” “It’s just a game.”

On the face of it, of course, it's a true statement, but I think the implication inherent in the phrase is as drastic a simplification as there is. Especially when the saying is aimed at fans who have followed Louisville basketball their entire lives.

If you're reading this, you probably spend as much time reading about U of L basketball, thinking about U of L basketball, going to or watching U of L basketball games from home as I do. When you're willing to sacrifice so much of yourself for something or anything, saying things like “It's just a game” pretty much falls flat.

In recent years, it's easy to forget that this is actually about basketball, about wins and losses on the court for an institution that has always been far too important to most of us. For a time, the extreme lows of the last decade were largely due to extrajudicial matters. We longed for the “normalcy” of failure on the field. The failures on the pitch returned, but they were anything but normal.

The numbers, the records set, and the wild facts that have emerged over the past two years are still almost too confusing to fully process.

TWELVE WINS AND FIFTY-TWO LOSSES IN TWO SEASONS.

The only two seasons with more than 21 losses in the program's 110-year history.

More defeats in friendly matches against Division II opponents (2) than won away games (1).

More losses by 20 or more points (14) than overall wins (12).

A final ranking of #290 on KenPom in 2023 and #203 a year later.

You could have given me a hypothetical with any type of NCAA penalty – postseason ban, television ban, death penalty, ban on playing against anyone taller than 6 feet – and those are still numbers I found impossible at the University of Louisville would have held men's basketball program.

The whole thing still feels like a fever dream.

The latest glimmer of hope comes in the form it usually does: a profound change, a new regime, a credible promise of a return to all that is good and the abolition of all that is bad.

In eight months on the job, Pat Kelsey has done everything and more that could reasonably be expected to make Louisville basketball feel that way Louisville basketball again.

Through the transfer portal, Kelsey quickly assembled a talented and experienced roster that appears fully capable of playing his brand of basketball and finding success despite an extremely demanding schedule. He has endeared himself to the fan base by constantly interacting with them and showing through his words, his actions and his energy that he fully understands and acknowledges the gravity of the situation in which he finds himself. It was impressive, it was refreshing and it was undeniably encouraging.

As of today it doesn't mean anything.

Kelsey, like all of his colleagues and predecessors, will ultimately be judged by how much he wins. If that's not enough, the talent on his roster will make the leap from justifying hope to proving he can't make it at this level. His unparalleled energy and enthusiasm instantly transforms from captivating and endearing to unconventional and hollow. I'm not saying anything he doesn't already know.

There are many reasons to believe that this time everything will be different. Firstly, we have seen this team play each other four times in friendly matches and each time it looked different, and in the best way possible. While the style of play was a significant turnaround from anything we've seen before, the energy, passion and cohesion was very important. It was all pleasantly familiar.

Second, Kelsey seems to understand what this is supposed to be – at least as well as someone who has never experienced it. You have to have the right combination of normal human being and total basketball psycho to be successful in a place like Louisville. Kelsey seems to have this rare mix.

Time will ultimately tell, and it's hard to find fault with the “you have to see it to believe it” crowd.

If you're reading this, then you're probably like me in that for as long as you remember, you've been more interested in Louisville basketball than you should be. This thing that is so special to so many of us should never feel like a chore or something we do just out of habit. This is supposed to be fun – the best fun – and it hasn't felt like that in far too long.

This is what leads to the cynicism, the heated arguments, the empty seats, the debates about change and the fractures in the fan base that we have seen many times over the last eight years. We always agreed on the most important points: We all want it to be fun again. We all want it to make us feel like we used to. We all want this to get back to “normal.”

The 2024-25 men's basketball season begins tonight in Louisville when the Cardinals host the Morehead State Eagles. If the team plays as I believe, tonight will begin the return of a beautiful five-month journey that should rekindle in all of us feelings and emotions that we had forgotten.

We have to lose ourselves again. Thoughts of what was don't have to miraculously dissipate (and they won't), but for these five months they just have to exist behind a box somewhere in the seasonal decorating closet of our collective sports brain. We need to delve into bracket projections and lineup combination debates. We need to closely examine the ranking of predictive metrics whose formulas we couldn't even begin to understand. We have to act as if this time of year, this period from early November to late March or early April, is the only thing that matters.

We need to get back to being our weird as hell kind of normal. If we do that, I believe that what we missed…all of it…will come back in ways we cannot consciously prepare for.

It's time for the beautiful journey to return. It's time to make this fun again. It's time to enjoy the glory of returning to normality after a long absence.

Eleven months ago I wrote about the pain of being at rock bottom and not being able to do anything about it. Tonight we can climb.