A City Divided

Make no mistake: tonight's "exhibition" will shape the city of Lexington for years, possibly generations to come. The Wildcats of Kentucky and the Pioneers of Transylvania. Two teams, one city. Who will wear the crown to this kingdom some call Lex Vegas (vomits in trash can)?

In this corner, the University of Kentucky. Dr. Flagship. State U.

In that corner, ‘cross the woods, Transylvania. The Little Old Man. Statesman U.

Separated by the slightest buffer of city blocks, fundamental ideologies and like, two dozen stop lights. The North (Broadway) vs. the South (Limestone). The Battle on Broadway, it's been dubbed, but we're not here to sell posters and lollipops.

The tension in this town is ripe, ready to be picked from the tree and baked into a holiday cobbler. Lexington is a city divided; friendships on ice, families torn, the Atomic Cafe engulfed in flames. It’s as if the ghost of Henry Clay just drove a big ol’ wedge right down in the heart of town...then, realizing he didn't quite know what to do next, planted some grass, put up a fence and built his own personal jungle jim.

It’s hard to pinpoint the origin of this great Lexington rift. Some historians date it back to the Streetfight of 1902, when a particularly prickly melee between rivaling fraternities erupted near the town branch brothel, leaving dozens with tattered hair and bloody noses. Other scholarly texts point to a more recent scuffle around closing time at Redmond’s. All can agree however, that it is here and it is real.

So we settle it the best way us Kentuckians know how: a duel, on the basketball court, now for the third consecutive year, the sixth such occurrence all time. Kentucky has owned this series of late but you can bet Calipari, the ol' master motivator that he is, had the box score from the 1911 contest displayed prominently throughout the Craft Center this offseason. Transylvania 23, Kentucky 18

There it is boys, let it soak.

Still want to call it  just an exhibition? Oh, it’s an exhibition alright, and the featured demonstration will be hell.

The ball will be tipped, bounced around, swatted and tossed, and one team will put it in their opponent's basket more times than the other. Sounds pretty simple when you break it down to the bones. Heck, almost sounds fun---like a game. But this ain't a game and this ain't about you, BCTC.

To the victor, everything. The loser, banishment to a satellite campus out past Hamburg where minivans go to breed and linger then disappear. After that, who knows?

Two nations, one city. Something's gotta give.