Cats' Easter game trumps niece's baptism

By Ashley Judd

AUSTIN, Texas — Well, I never take anything for granted, but I do prepare well. I brought a real pretty Easter dress to Austin. And today, I'll wear it, choosing some nice-sounding church (liberal, thank you very much) from the yellow pages, because even though Dario and I lived here a short spell whilst shooting Where the Heart Is, I only went to church once and can't recall the name of it. Don't tell my Ma, OK?

I'd also appreciate it if you didn't tell my sister where I really am, because, and this is TERRIBLE, I am missing my niece's baptism to be here. Of course, if you don't tell her, she'll figure it out really soon. Rarely can my whereabouts be kept private, what with CBS, ESPN and all you other big-mouthed fans who call out to her in Kroger, "Saw Ashley at the game, boy, she sure gets wild! We love her for it! Go Cats!"

It must be hard for sister to love it, when darling little Gracie is getting the Jesus dunk and it appears I am more interested in dunking over Michigan State's talented center. The only thing I have going for me in my defense, unlike Tubby's many-splendored, exceedingly clever defenses, is that this lovely decision for baptism was made and announced Wednesday. This past Wednesday.

At least, that's when I was told, and that is just not fair. We wait all year for this tournament, we wait our whole lives to be (again) one game away from the Final Four, we plan our lives and holidays and movies and excuses around the one-and-done, do-or-die format and, hello, I need a little more notice than that. And by way of proving my point, I will be at the game today instead of at home with that cute little 9-year-old. Good Lord, I am feeling Catholic instead of hillbilly protestant, the guilt, the guilt.

How's about we change the subject? My dear friend Mimi (she fell in love with our program during Tayshaun's tenure) is here with me, and she has been able to share some of what makes coming to these games so special for me. She's with me a lot: in the bathroom at Spago in Beverly Hills when some struggling writer tried to pitch me a script while I am just trying to, you know, use the bathroom; at a bar when I just want to sing karaoke like everybody else but am stymied by the crazy attention, walking down streets being stared at and whispered about; on airplanes when people try to take my picture while I nap; when I am sick and the doctor brings his 10-year-old along "because she really wanted to meet you." She's seen me get my way when I shouldn't just because I am famous and seen people not stand up to me when they should have ... in essence, when I have been treated as an "other," a different, apart person, instead of just a normal, regular person.

Last night she mused (she's a writer, so she muses well) that I seemed so myself at the game, relaxed and happy, in spite of being out in public and all that. And that is such a keen part of my joy at games, being there sharing with all of you what we love in common, our team and our heritage, and sharing in that with the fullness of our personalities and enthusiasms. I don't have to feel "careful," like I am being watched at ball games, I am totally free, as free as I am in the comfort of my own home. That is really saying something, and is not to be trivialized. It's rare in my life and I cherish it.

But there is an interesting paradox in how I scrutinize the game and players the way so many people scrutinize me. I want to get in Patrick Sparks' head the way the National Enquirer wants to get into my garbage can. I want to love, support, and encourage him the way a B producer wants to "nurture my career," no talent at it, but good intentions. I want cool tidbits about the team the way people want to know what it was like to dance with (and, yes, kiss) Salma in Frida. Perhaps a small part of my passion is about unconsciously reversing my karma, feeling how the other half lives.

But the reasons for this fandom of mine are not all so psychological. I love being surrounded by Kentucky accents, which is one of the reasons I faithfully listen to Coach Smith's call-in radio show each week. Last night I mingled in the hotel lobby, feeling not once on display or "other," chatting with strangers from a familiar land. It's a chance to be a part of my Avalon, the Commonwealth of Kentucky, in spite of not living within her borders (and we travel so much I would not be there much, even if we did). I am myself, cyclically participating in where I come from, who I am, resonating with old identities, cravings and pride. I've always been a little bit of an outsider in my family, and so it's fine I am here while they're at church today, because Grace and I will create our own ritual that helps me nurture her spiritual growth and expresses how proud of her I am. On Easter I'll be doing what is right for me, which is taking my own personal communion in Austin, here with my team, remembering who I am when I am free.

SOURCE: Kentucky.com - 03/27/05

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