Do I Want to Talk About the Vikings? Neigh!

Originally posted on "Is It Sports?" by Ryan, back when he was still a Vikings fan...

Kevin : gotta love the Vikes
Ryan : Ugh... I'dont want to talk about it

The Vikings disgust me. That’s all I can say. That and the Eagles still look rusty. Other than that I don't want to talk about football again until the Super Bowl. (Don’t worry, I probably will again anyways.) The teaser conversation up there was just a cheap trick to introduce Kevin, a guy who might be chatting with us every now and then. I wouldn't expect him to post all that often. Steve and I don't, so I guess it would be hypocritical to expect the same of anyone else.

Instead, I want to waste your time by talking about a road trip I took with my roommate and a friend on Saturday. Graduating in May, it seemed appropriate that I try to visit as many lame locations in the West Lafayette region before I graduate. Thinking it would be just as lame as any location, the three of us hopped in my 97 Accord and headed to Louisville, Kentucky.

Our first dose of Louisville was downtown. Not knowing much else to do in Kentucky, we sought out the Louisville Slugger factory. After running a red light in front of a local squad car, much to his disinterest, we found a parking spot near the Jefferson County Detention Center and were on our way. The building, with its humongous (cement) bat out front was a throw back to Dick Tracy era buildings. It was, other than the monument out front, a relatively unassuming building set in the heart of an entertainment district of Louisville. When I got inside, the whole building had the feel of baseball history. It was reminiscent of my trip to Cooperstown a few years back. The attempt wasn't to aggrandize history, but at the same time, you couldn't escape it, and were overwhelmed with it. The most entertaining part was the signature series wall, with the signatures of all the players through history who have signed with the company, from Babe Ruth to Midre Cummings.

The next stop in our Kentucky misadventures was the University of Louisville (A note to the Athletic Department: Cardinals don't have teeth). The three of us grabbed lunch at what looked like a refurbished airplane hanger. The thing that struck us at the spacious sports bar was the enthusiasm for sports. Upon hearing their teams lost, our virgin ears were sprinkled with an “aww shucks” or something fairly docile instead a series of four and twelve letter words inappropriate even for this column. When a team would win, they applauded the performance of their own, instead of deriding the opposition. It was sportsmanship at its finest.

Lastly, we went to the only place people think of when they think of Kentucky. Churchill Downs, home of the Kentucky Derby. We got to the track about ten minutes after it closed, so we decided it would be nice to take pictures of the outside as the building was absolutely gorgeous as well as monstrous. A security guard, in a gesture that would make the Department of Homeland Security cringe, invited us inside for a private tour. The three of us, flattered by the request, took her up on the offer and despite our lack of knowledge of the sport, were nonetheless overwhelmed by history once again. It would be a disservice if I tried to put the enormity of the structure, as well as the mystical aura of the track into words. I recommend everyone, sports fan or not, visits Churchill Downs once in their life. I insist. Also, a column about Churchill Downs would be beyond the scope of my writing ability. So go to Kentucky. Seriously. –Ryan