My Beef with Indiana

A Kentuckian's Dilemma

There are three things I hate in this world: mayonnaise, Pepsi-Cola, and the state of Indiana. Ok, so maybe I only actually hate mayonnaise (seriously how people consume this), but Pepsi is too sweet and lacks carbonation.

And then there is Indiana.

What do I make of the Hoosier State?

Let me back up. I am from a little town in western Kentucky originally. I say that, but it’s only true in part. We moved to Breaux Bridge, Louisiana when I was three, meaning that most of my early memories are of the bayou, not the Bluegrass. And I think when you’ve been displaced from home, especially at an early age, you’re looking for some sense of identity. Something that reaffirms who you are.

In addition to the three things I hate, there have always been three things I say I love: Star Wars, Coca-Cola, and Kentucky basketball.

For many Kentuckians and Hoosiers too, state identity is linked to fandom of the state’s university. Sure Louisville exists, but most Kentuckians by and large consider Cardinals fans to be traitors to the cause. Case in point: when my great grandmother died, my brother showed up to the funeral in a sleeveless t-shirt and cap. People were mad at his attire, but only that he was wearing Louisville on it: “Granny would never approve of that. He’s just doing it for attention,” were the nonquiet whispers at the service.

In the 1980s, Kentucky was still good in basketball, meaning that we could catch them nationally from our trailer. Our coach was Joe B. Hall, a sweet fella who led the team to the national title in 1978. But Indiana was also good. Led by the fiery Bobby Knight, who threw chairs, cursed at officials, and later was accused of choking his own players, Indiana won titles in 1976 and 1987. Bobby Knight was the opposite of Coach Hall. He was bad. And Kentucky was good and home. So supporting Kentucky meant detesting what Indiana stood for. Yes, these were the thoughts I had at six years of age.

There’s another complicating thing: my father.

Like every other 47-year-old man on the planet, the memory my dad continues to haunt me. Mom and Dad were teenage parents, teenage spouses, and teenage divorcees. So when I went to Louisiana, it meant leaving Dad behind in Kentucky. I never really got to know the man.

Dad lived in Henderson, Kentucky for a while, just across the Ohio River from his birthplace in—you guessed it—Evansville, Indiana. Does that make me a hereditary Hoosier? Lord only knows.

What I do know is that on the rare occasions my brother and I would get shipped off to see some guy we didn’t really know, that he’d take us into Indiana. Sure enough, if you go there you’ll see Herbert Blvd and Herbert St., and all that, something my friend Kristalyn likes to tease me with when she sees it. But Indiana to me was the moon—far from my adopted home of Louisiana and of Kentucky, where we returned when I was about 10. It’s flat, full of corn fields, and rather devoid of the bottomlands that make up the South. The people lacked the accents of my people. I was a stranger in a strange land and I did not like it at all.

This only reinforced my convictions that I was a Kentuckian and NOT a Hoosier. I even flirted around with taking my maternal name of Chadwick—way cooler sounding than Herbert—but ultimately deciding that I was branded with the name I had and would try to rise above it. These were the thoughts I had at 16.

All of this leads back to HATM. One of the things I’ve done in defiance is to never watch the film Hoosiers. Yes, I know it is supposed to be terrific. But it is set in Indiana and talks about basketball there but basketball in Indiana is not as good as it is in Kentucky so therefore I refused to watch it. I would not give glory to anything in Indiana, ever. So when people asked if we could watch it on the watch party over the past seven years, it became sort of a running gag that amused me. “Don’t even ask,” said the faithful to the newcomers. “He’ll never allow it.”

But then news broke of Gene Hackman’s recent passing. I was a fan of the late actor. Fine, I thought. Let’s get something of his on the schedule. I looked for Unforgiven. No Way Out. Crimson Tide. Anything. Anything but that damn movie. No dice.

Fine. Maybe it’s time to move on.¹

So tonight on the watch party, we’re watching Hoosiers, which is available on Amazon Prime. If you’ve never done a watch party before, just look for me on Blue Sky or the hashtag #HATM. I’ll start a thread sometime around 7:45 eastern and the movie starts promptly at 8pm.

See ya tonight.

Jason

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1. I steadfastly refuse to move on.