So, as previously reported, your inveterate Cardinal-loving wag awakened Thursday morn jonesing for a college hoops fix.

The withdrawal was severe.

And then, like manna from heaven, like back in the day my man would actually answer the phone when I needed to connect right then, the day unfolded.

It was like that day in ’70 in a field in Byron, Ga when I heard Duane and Dickey for the first time.

Or, more appropriately, let’s jump in the time machine back to January 28, 1956. It was like that blissful evening.

My obsession with U of L hoops was already four years on, though I was only 11.

That night is, to the best of my memory, the first time there was hoops on TV here. Television was still pretty rudimentary, the Milton Berle phase, just getting its sea legs.

A doubleheader no less.

My parents, from whom I am genetically disposed to hoopaholism, allowed me to stay up to the end beyond my bedtime.

The opening tilt was the Cards’ away OT W over #2 Dayton, 66-64. Charlie Tyra, who averaged 28 ppg and 22 rpg on the year. Phil Rollins. Jim Morgan. Bill Darragh. Jerry Moreman. Herb Harrah.

Oh it was so glorious.

That was Louisville’s first of three Ws over their then arch rival, the last one coming in the Garden to capture the NIT. A 93-80 exclamation point!

The nightcap was #3 UK’s visit to #7 Vandy, where my brother was in school.

Commodores 81, led by Al Rochelle, Babe Taylor. and Bobby Thym, Wildcats 73.

The only thing that could have made that night better, more meaningful, would have been if my mother, as she was wont to do, would have baked a chocolate cake during the U of L game to assuage her nervousness, and let me lick the leftover icing out of the mixing bowl. She did that, but not that night.

But I went to bed with a smile on my face, if no sugar fix, anxious to get to Longfellow Elementary in the morning and taunt my Cat-loving pals.

Anyway, that’s how much joy I felt yesterday.

First, the news that Kentucky’s main target was a swing and miss. And the fourth coach to publicly say no. (For transparency, I report that three coaches turned down the Cardinal chair, but only one felt necessary to put it out there in the cybergalaxy with such as “No Way!”)

Oh, be still my schadenfreude. Remember, what goes around comes around.

Then broke the news that the one former Cardinal great, whom I really wanted to be on Pat Kelsey’s staff shall be.

Peyton Siva, come on down.

That is so good on so many levels.

So, yeah, I ended the day with a smile just like that day 68 years ago.

 * * * * *

I’ve tried to think of a sports analogy for what happened when the Cards ended up with Kelsey.

It’s like when a guy swings thrice, misses all, strikes out, then the catcher drops the ball, and the batter ends up a runner on 2d base.

Fingers crossed.

And, frankly, while it appears that the BBN will be even less enthralled with Mark Pope than many of Card faithful were initially with Kelsey — you know who you are, you who were screaming as loud as Matt Jones’ callers are this morning — they may have landed the best choice.

Time will tell who has fell, and who’s been left behind. Or, something like that.

What I’ve learned from this writing exercise is there are fans who make judgements about, say, coaches, without ever having watched them coach, observe how their teams play.

Kelsey, it appears can coach. Even though Seth and Jay don’t talk about him every night during the season.

So too, Pope.

 * * * * *

Anyhow, I didn’t go to bed with the shakes.

Naismithius bestowed his countenance upon us.

— c d kaplan