Prologue
Lexington, Kentucky, United States of America

The second largest city in the state of Kentucky, Lexington is modest in size compared to most American cities. It has its share of wealth, largely from the horse industry, but that is not what it is best known for.

Lexington is in many respects a college town, home to the state's flagship university: the University of Kentucky, member of the Southeastern Conference, and one of the elite men's college basketball programs in America.

1,356 victories.

36 Southeastern Conference regular season championships.

28 NCAA Tournament appearances.

26 Sweet Sixteen appearances, 16 in the Elite Eight.

Eight Final Four appearances.

Five National Championships.


All good things must come to an end, but all bad things can continue forever. - Thornton Wilder

February 13th, 1984

Kentucky 67, Florida 65, at Rupp Arena.

The last home game for the Kentucky Wildcats until...

14th

Three- to four hundred students organized an impromptu peace march, starting from the UK campus and finishing in front of the mayor's office downtown...

15th

"Kenny, I'm going home."

16th

UK President Otis Singletary refused to close the campus, despite increasing calls from students and their parents to suspend classes...

17th

"My God, Coach. They're really going to war."

18th

"The Southeastern Conference says it will follow through with its slate of games scheduled for this weekend, despite the ongoing war in Europe..."

"I can't get home, man. It's Marion. Not that far away. But I can't. Get. Home."

19th

The bus drive.

A fleet of state troopers and National Guardsmen throughout the restless city of Nashville.

The affluent have left for the safety of summer homes and far-away refuges they hope will not be in the path of a Soviet nuclear missile.

The middle class and much of the working class had to settle for motels in rural Tennessee and Kentucky, or for friendly relatives/friends/Good Samaritans in those small towns where the rebuilding of America will have to begin after the expected all-out nuclear exchange between east and west.

The poor have nowhere to go. The desperate will find their own way.

"You can't listen to the game in town; it's all news. I can't even pick up WHAS."

Memorial Gymnasium was filled to capacity, mostly by locals who had nowhere to go. Only a few of them are dressed in Commodore Black and Gold but they are the most rabid crowd of fans in memory. There's a small section, all Blue, of fans who made the drive in the Caravan to support their Wildcats.

The Cats are runnin' the other way. Master drives, passes to Blackmon...Blackmon inside to Turpin and SLAM DUNK! Kentucky has its first lead of the game!

"There ain't gonna be a press conference. Kentucky's getting right on the bus. If you want to talk to them, now's the time."

The drive home. Kentucky National Guardsmen standing in the back of pickup trucks, watching for troublemakers, foreign or domestic.

"I've never seen so many people out, going down and coming back up, out to support us. Thank you...this is a tough time for all of us, and certainly for our team. We deeply appreciate your show of support."

20th

The University of Kentucky campus remains open for students who are unable to return to their homes. Classes are suspended until further notice, but essential services remain open.

In other news:

Governor Collins has signed an order authorizing the restriction of gasoline to eight gallons for personal use, 25 for Class C use and unlimited use for essential police, government and military vehicles, effective immediately. This follows her executive order taking effect an hour ago mandating grocery rationing thoughout the state...

"Mom...I'll stay here....I love you, I love you all."

21st

"Winston is back? With his family?....where are we going to put them? In the lodge!...the NCAA? The hell with the NCAA!!! That's the least of our worries right now! Those people need someplace to stay. I don't give a damn about the NCAA or sanctions or what the hell they think!!!"

BEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEPPPPPPP

This is the Emergency Broadcast System.

In cooperation with the federal government and the Federal Communications Commission, this station is suspending regular programming at this time. WCYN 1400 AM and 102.3 FM will serve as the official stations in Harrison County for news and information from local, state and federal agencies...

"Coach? Coach?"

The Deputy pounded on the basement door. It cracked open, the Coach's son peeking out.

It took a little bit of coaxing, but the Coach and his son eventually agreed to leave the basement. The Deputy stayed with the wife and daughters, while the two men walked out with the Sheriff.

Off in the distance, the remnants of mushroom clouds scarred the sky. Cincinnati and Dayton to the north, Louisville and Fort Knox to the west, and the big cloud to the south of the Coach's home in Cynthiana, Harrison County.

"Lexington's..............gone" said the son, wide-eyed, somewhat in shock.

The Coach took another look. Something was off.

"Can't be," he said. "That cloud's too far north of the city, too close to us."

...all residents are advised to shelter in place and keep your radios tuned to this frequency for regular updates from the federal, state and local governments, on the hour...

"Sir. This is the Governor of Kentucky. We have her on the radio."

No time for pleasantries. The President immediately got to the point: what was the situation in Kentucky, how many casualties, fallout, food, any enemy activity. The known target list.

"...we know that Louisville took three bombs directlyzzzzzzzzzther bomb in Jeffersonville Indiana. Fort Knox--zzzzzzzzzzzzzage from the blast. Fort Campbell is gone. Massive damage to Hopkinsville and to Clarksville, Tennessee. Army depot in Richmond--zzzzzzzzzzzzzzztown of Richmond in flames. Ashland gone from bomb in Huntington West Virginia. Evansville bomb has caused damage in Henderson and Owenszzzzzzzzzzzzzzern part of the statezzzzzzzzblast hit Covingtonzzzznorthern Kentucky, probably intended for Cincinnatizzzzzzzzzzzhonestly not sure if Cincinzzzzzzzstill there. Lexingtonzzzzzzzzzzzzzzblast hitzzzzzzzzzzz."

"Hello? Hello? Governor? Governor Collins. Governor Collins. Hello! Are you there."

The Operator tried to raise the Governor, without luck. The interference was too strong.

The List of Homeland Targets were updated for Kentucky and Ohio.

Louisville
Lexington
Fort Knox
Fort Campbell
Richmond (Army depot)


The List, like many other things from those weeks and months following the Exchange, was incomplete and, in some respects, completely wrong.

Protect and Survive: The Last Game

A story of a college basketball team, its fanbase and its community
before, during and after the Third World War
84ac2ef917093c6a35249bf45227758d.jpg
 
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Chapter 1: Monday, February 13
Monday, February 13, 1984

The Courier-Journal
Metro edition
Page A1


Soviet leader Andropov steps down

Responsibilities assumed by emergency
committee headed by General Ogarkov

Ogarkov to address USSR today


Page B1 (Metro section)

Governor, General Assembly
leaders mum on contingencies
for potential war with USSR


Collins: 'public will be given
appropriate advance notice'


JCPS Board to discuss
suspension of classes


Teachers, parents urge closure

Page C1 (Sports section)

NCAA leaves schools, leagues
to continue or suspend play
for now as they see fit


Louisville heads to Blacksburg for Va. Tech rematch

Kentucky hopes to balance the books at Florida's expense

Later that evening

Rupp Arena
Lexington, Kentucky


The Reporter took his seat at courtside, a half-hour before the scheduled tip-off of the University of Kentucky's men's basketball game against Southeastern Conference opponent Florida.

Dinner, tonight, was three hot dogs and a couple of cans of Coke. A small drop of mustard had fallen on his shirt, and he tried to rub it off with water and a napkin. When that didn't work out so well, the Reporter said the hell with it, and hoped that his necktie would suffice to hide the stain.

Basketball was on his mind and on the mind of everyone else in the building. That wasn't unusual, given how basketball-crazed the entire state was.

No one, including the Reporter, wanted to think about the elephant in the room.

That, tomorrow - or a week, or a month, or who knew? - they could all be vaporized in a gigantic mushroom of fire.

Given his profession, the Reporter didn't quite have the luxury to forget about that naggling possibility.

Already, there was talk that this might be one of the last SEC games in quite some time.

The Conference, some of his sources told him, was considering following the lead of the Big Eight and postponing games indefinitely. It made sense for those schools, with the hundreds of missile silos located in their state borders.

But seven of the SEC's Presidents didn't want to postpone their schedules just yet, with the understandable exceptions of Florida, Vanderbilt, and Auburn.

Vandy was located in Nashville, the state capitol, and largest city, of Tennessee. Auburn was mere miles from Fort Benning. Both likely targets.

Florida, in Gainesville, was not too far from Cuba. If the Soviets didn't think it worthy of an ICBM, the Cubans might make a go at Gainesville just out of spite.

The league Presidents, though, didn't expect Soviet paratroopers - or missiles - to fall in Oxford, Starkville, Athens, Tuscaloosa, Knoxville, Lexington or Baton Rouge. Not this early.

In fact, the Ole Miss athletic director had told a Memphis television station that the Rebels would probably play games if the worst came to pass, "just to stick it to the Russians." The university still hadn't released a correction or disclaimer.

Here, in Lexington, no one was certain whether the city would be targeted or not.

That didn't prevent the city government, and Fayette County, and UK itself, from making contingency plans, along with numerous businesses in Lexington itself.

That included the newspaper the Reporter wrote for.

He hadn't yet considered his own contingency plans.

Meanwhile, people were filling up Rupp Arena, and tickets were selling briskly. The Reporter looked around and wondered if a record crowd would show up.

He then looked down at the game notes, provided by the UK Sports Information Department. He called the night desk at the sports department and asked about story length and a deadline.

As he wrapped up the call, the Florida Gators ran out to take their pre-game warmups.

Then, the UK student band fired up the school song, and the Kentucky Wildcats ran out for their warmups.

On, on, U of K, we are right for the fight today,
Hold that ball and hit that line;
Ev'ry Wildcat star will shine;
We'll fight, fight, fight, for the blue and white
As we roll to that goal, Varsity,
And we'll kick, pass and run, 'till the battle is won,
And we'll bring home the victory.
 
Chapter 2: Monday night
Chapter Two

Louisville, Kentucky


Donald Ingwerson, the Superintendent of the Jefferson County school board, announced to the Louisville-area media that classes would continue while the board "continued to monitor the ongoing political situation".

After the press conference, the Superintendent met with the Mayor of Louisville, Harvey Sloane, and Jefferson County Judge/Executive Mitch McConnell.

The subject of their meeting was JCPS working with the school systems of the counties where students and their families were expected to flee in the event of a war between the U.S. and the Soviet Union.

Sworn to secrecy by both executives, the Superintendent left the Mayor's office. He drove home and without saying anything to his wife went straight to his bedroom. He dropped to his knees and prayed for a half-hour, while his wife wondered what was wrong with her husband.

The Superintendent then made a few phone calls to associates. He hoped to have his wife and family somewhere safe by the end of the week.

He wasn't the only county public school superintendent, nor private school administrator, making such arrangements. Virtually every county, from the western Purchase area to the eastern mountains, was preparing for war...just in case. Parents and guardians living in or near areas where an attack was possible were making plans to keep their children out of school.

Lexington, Kentucky

Rupp Arena


...coming into the game, Kentucky is 18-3 overall, and ranked sixth nationally in the Associated Press poll and fifth in the coaches poll. The Wildcats lost to Florida in Gainesville 69-57 January 17 in the first of two Southeastern Conference games between the two schools.

UK has since won six of last next seven games. The Gators split their next six, and come into Rupp Arena tonight with a 10-9 overall record...

Judging from the press tables set up around the court and behind one of the baskets, one might have taken the game to be the biggest of the college basketball season -- No. 1 vs. No. 2, instead of No. 6 versus an unranked team.

The usual media contingent of Kentucky-based television and radio stations and newspapers were joined by reporters from major national media organizations, including Sports Illustrated, the New York Times, ESPN and CBS. The game was carried live throughout Kentucky and surrounding states by UK's own syndicated TV and radio networks, and in Florida by UF's own networks.

While ESPN had cameras and reporters in Rupp, the network was broadcasting another Southeastern Conference game: Auburn at Vanderbilt, in Nashville, Tennessee. Memorial Gym was half-full, in part because of growing fear among the local populace of a nuclear attack, and because of wild, unfounded rumors of impending riots downtown based on the increased number of Nashville police vehicles on the street.

In the student section of the packed arena, four students sat and watched, cheering every so often. Their minds continually drifted to the contingency plan that a friend of theirs had cooked up over the weekend -- get off campus and out of the city into a safe house in the south part of Fayette County, and build a pirate radio antenna 'to tell people the truth' after Lexington and the rest of the country went up in flames.

Around the arena, the atmosphere seemed especially charged, and not just because Florida had beaten Kentucky nearly a month earlier.

Although 23,609 was the announced attendance, Rupp Arena and UK officials acknowledge later in the week that "hundreds" of fans found their way in as the game progressed. There wasn't an empty seat to be found anywhere, and indeed dozens of fans were seen standing near the top of the upper deck and -- surely to the chagrin of the fire marshal -- sitting in stairways and near exits.

They were rewarded with a victory by the host Wildcats. UK held off Florida 67-65 in a nailbiter highlighted by an 8-0 second-half run that put the 'Cats ahead to stay. A desperation 22-foot shot by Florida's Andrew Moten with two seconds left in regulation hit the rim and bounced away from the basket, and Kentucky escaped with the victory.

Those who were present that night - spectators, arena workers, media, university officials, even players and coaches -- shared a sense that February 13th could be The Last Game for UK basketball for quite some time.

Of course, the deteriorating situation between the United States and the Soviet Union was on everyone's mind, although survivors remarked that very little was said about it that evening.

Instead, the entirely pro-Wildcat crowd treated the game against an unranked opponent as if their Wildcats were playing the top-ranked team in the country, or an archrival like Indiana. Fans who normally stayed seated, and quiet, the entire game stood up throughout and yelled support for their team and criticism at the officials.

After the final buzzer sounded, an more curious thing occurred: as the Wildcats prepared to walk back to their locker room, spontaneously, fans stood up and clapped in applause, then gradually erupted in cheering.

This went on for 20 minutes.

Finally, after the players, cheerleaders and head coach Joe B. Hall led the crowd in singing My Old Kentucky Home and the UK fight song, the team left the floor.

After coach Hall and the players finished interviews with the media, officials informed them that most of the fans had not left. So they went back out to the floor, and it turned into Senior Day and Fan Appreciation Night.

The team finally left around 2:30 in the morning.

There was a real sense - despite how little sense it made on the surface - that this might, in fact, be the last game UK basketball would play for some time to come.

As it turned out, The Last Game came six days later, in another state, on a largely deserted campus in a city under martial law.
 
I apologize for the lack of a formal introduction earlier, but I wanted to touch on a few things before I go forward:

1. You may be familiar with a similar thread I started back in 2012 that I never finished. This is the continuation, and completion, of that thread.

2. I'm going to post in chronological order instead of alternating between pre- and post-Exchange posts.

3. What was in the old thread isn't necessarily what you'll see here. Consider the old thread an alternate universe :)

If you have any questions or observations, feel free to post here, or PM me! I hope you enjoy the story.
 
Heads up to everyone who's interested...I've gotten some things dumped on me, but I hope to have the latest chapter up sometime this week.
 
Chapter 3: The post-game press conference
Monday evening
The post-game press conference


Due to the extremely high interest in the University of Kentucky's basketball program, the media sections in Rupp Arena were always full. Sometimes -- like tonight -- extra seating was set up wherever possible.

Some of the national reporters in town had to watch from the upper level behind the basket next to Kentucky's bench. For the post-game press conference, a few of them -- the writers from the New York Daily News, Sports Illustrated and the reporter from ESPN -- got front-row seats in the press room. A few national reporters got to sit along the back row, and the others stood wherever they could, whether it was along the wall or in the hallway outside the press room.

The rumor mill was working overtime. Despite no official statement from the University administration nor the Southeastern Conference, word was that the SEC was going to follow the lead of most major college conferences and independents and cancel play effective Wednesday.

Some of the reporters in the room knew better, but wanted to see Kentucky's reaction before filing their stories.

Russell Rice, Kentucky's sports information director, went to the podium at the table in the back of the room and addressed the reporters. "Coach Hall will take questions about the game only for the first ten minutes. Then he'll answer any further questions about the game, or any other topic you wish to discuss."

Hall and Cliff Hagan, UK's athletic director, walked in and were barraged with questions. Rice shook his head, thinking he might have been better off trying to herd a pack of feral cats.

"Quiet down!" Hagan shouted to the reporters, most of whom obliged. A few didn't.

"Are you suspending the season--" said the UK beat writer for the local Lexington Herald-Leader. The writer had been a perennial pain in the backside of both the program and the athletic department for the past few years.

Hagan didn't let the reporter finish his question.

"Dammit, Jerry, I said 'QUIET DOWN'!"

The reporter smirked at the outburst, while some sitting on the front row with him were wide-eyed in shock.

Hall proceeded to speak, and spent nearly five minutes discussing the game, his team's play and that of Florida's, before taking questions from the media.

The first four questions related directly to the effect of global events on the team's outlook and play.

"We told them to take care of business on the court, that certain things every one of us were thinking about were beyond their control, but that what they did tonight was something they could control," Hall said.

The Herald-Leader reporter then got to ask his question, albeit by shouting over a couple of other reporters: "Will you consider suspending the season, and why would you keep your players here to continue on when war could break out at any time?"

"Dammit, Jerry," Hagan said. "Look, there's no official word by the university about shutting down. We're still in business, we played tonight, we plan to proceed as normal this week.. If things change, we're not going off and playing the Lexington YMCA while the school's shut down. Alright???"

That, of course, led to more questions.

Did Hagan, or Hall, or both think there would be a war? (they hoped not but said it was up to Reagan and Ogarkov)

Would the university be shutting down like seven of the Big Eight schools planned to? (no plans at present)

Would they let the players go home now? (Hagan: "we'll cross that bridge if we get there.")

Was the crowd that continued to linger in the arena indicative of a sense that this was the end, of the season, of the program? (Hall: "I think the people are showing how much they love this program, and what it means to them." Hagan: "The end???? Come on.")

Were there plans in the event of a nuclear explosion in the city, and what were they? (Hagan: "yeah. We'll build a frickin' barbeque and eat atomic ribs," he said with a smirk, drawing laughter from some of the reporters)

What about the Ole Miss A.D.'s comment to a TV station in Memphis, that he and 'other' SEC schools would play on "come hell, high water, or Russian ICBMs"? (Hall: "I'm pretty sure he's exaggerating." Hagan: "We'll keep an eye on things and use common sense.")

In the locker room, the Kentucky players answered questions as professionally as they always did.

"I hope they don't go to war. I hope they pull back, and work things out. Our playing tonight isn't that important compared to what's going on, but it made a big difference to the fans. We saw it in the stands. You can hear them still out there. We want to keep playing. We want to finish the season with a championship." - Dicky Beal

"Yeah, I'm concerned. Who wouldn't be? I'm ready to do whatever my team, my coach, my country asks me to do." - Melvin Turpin

"I have family out of state, and I'm concerned about them and they're concerned about me. I spent a lot of time on the phone between class and practice today. Coach talked with us about staying focused, not letting what we can't control affect us tonight. I won't lie and say that it didn't, for part of the game, but we managed to take care of things when we needed to at the end." - Sam Bowie

"We're focused. We weren't fully focused for most of the first half, but neither were they. They settled down, like we did, and tried to beat us and until the end were in a position to. We pulled it out, at the end. We appreciate the fans; they gave us a lot of support in the second half. We don't want to let them down. We're getting out of here with a win, and now we're going to get ready for Vanderbilt." - Roger Harden

"We want to beat the Russians on the court. We don't want a shooting war, man. We'll fight, don't get me wrong, but nobody in his right mind wants this to escalate further than it has! If they come at us, we're ready!" - Bret Bearup
 
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Chapter 4: The Forward
Chapter 4

Tuesday, February 14


Courier-Journal
Metro Edition
Page A1


Ogarkov pledges Soviets will
counter 'militant adventurists'


Ingwerson says JCPS
classes 'remain open'


Sports, page C1

UK avenges loss
to Florida 67-65,
but was it the
Cats' last game?


Time passes U of L as rally fails in defeat

KHSAA, IHSAA consider
following Big 8 lead


Lexington
UK campus
Wildcat Lodge
12:37 p.m.


The Joe B. Hall Wildcat Lodge, when it opened six years ago, was one of the first dormitories used exclusively for the players of a collegiate athletic team.

It was yet another perk that the University of Kentucky used to attract the best players in the United States. It was a means to keep the Wildcat players more separated from the general campus population, and more focused on what they were recruited to do:

Win games.

Bret Bearup, one of the 13 players on the current UK roster, arrived in Kentucky from Long Island in the northeastern United States. He won All-American accolades as a high school player at Harborfields High School in Greenlawn, a town nearly 45 miles east of the heart of New York City. Then he signed with a program that had its pick of the best of the best.

To date, Bearup had spent much of his college career on the bench, playing behind other former prep All-Americans. Having realized he wasn't likely to be highly drafted by the pros and sign a contract worth hundreds of thousands of dollars, Bearup turned his attention to academics: if he couldn't star in the National Basketball Association, he'd earn a law degree and set himself up in a long-lasting lucrative career.

Bearup stayed at Kentucky with the long view in mind. Perhaps he could have started, even starred, at another school. Like many other former UK players, however, he understood that being a Kentucky Wildcat would open doors to him that otherwise might never be presented to him.

As he sat alone in the den at Wildcat Lodge eating a sandwich, Bearup also had come to another realization: that everything he had been working towards was going to be for naught.

A portable radio sat on the table next to his glass of water and the plate with his half-eaten ham-and-cheese sandwich. The television set in the room was tuned to CNN, but Bearup had wanted more information on what was going on than the only all-news channel could give him. So he had the radio with him, and was about to see if any of the stations had broken from their usual programming.

Bearup took a drink from the glass and put it down, then turned on the radio and began going through the FM dial, then the AM dial. The stations he could get inside the dormitory were playing music, or radio preachers, or commercials. Frustrated over the lack of news, he was about to turn the radio off when an announcer on a Cincinnati-based AM station broke in with a news bulletin:

"--what Omaha police are estimating to be a crowd of forty to fifty thousand people downtown, protesting against...well, we're not at war -- yet -- against going to war. I'm skimming through an Associated Press story just handed to me for details. It mentions a 'mass march' to call for peace between the U.S. and the Soviet Union. The story also mentions a counter-protest in the area--"

How have I not heard about this? Bearup thought. Normally, any time for an athlete not taken up by basketball or academics was a rarity. That explained why he hadn't become a CNN junkie like some other students on campus. I need to be more on top of things.

Bearup put the empty glass in the kitchen, then took his sandwich, and backpack, and left the Lodge to walk the short distance over to Memorial Coliseum for some weight training.

He knew a few law students who were informally referred by fellow law students as 'news geeks'; when they weren't studying, they watched the nightly news, and CNN, and read the daily newspapers and weekly newsmagazines. Tomorrow morning he'd talk with them before class to get a better idea of what was going on, if he didn't see them at the library that evening.

As Bearup walked towards Memorial Coliseum, he saw a large neon yellow-colored poster attached to a tree off in the distance. Something told him to check it out, which he wouldn't normally do, especially since he didn't want to be late for his workout.

He ignored the hunch. It stuck with him. He kept walking, and something kept telling him to check it out.

Bearup figured if he ran over there, read it, and ran the rest of the way to the gym, he'd make it on time. So he ran 35 yards to the tree to see what the poster said:

PEACE PROTEST
1 O'CLOCK
START AT COMMONWEALTH STADIUM PARKING LOT

STANDING WITH THOSE ACROSS THE COUNTRY CALLING FOR PEACE

He suddenly knew where he needed to be, basketball be damned.
 
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Huh, this is actually a fairly interesting concept. Continue.

Thanks for your kind words, and I intend to continue.

To use a basketball term, I keep running into screens when I try to make a play. Without going into details, I have some major things I'm dealing with right now, one of which is finding another job.
 
Chapter 5: The A.D. and the Senator
Chapter 5

Lexington
Memorial Coliseum


The man in charge of the University of Kentucky's athletic program sat at his desk and weighed whether he needed another cup of coffee or a shot of whiskey.

The ringing of the phone at his desk put that choice on hold. Upon arriving at his office that morning, Hagan told his secretary to hold all calls that weren't important, trusting her to weed out the boosters and trustees who were demanding 'a minute' of his time that, if he let them, would turn into an hour.

Hagan picked up the receiver. "Hello?"

"Cliff," said the man on the other end of the line, whom he instantly recognized as an old friend and a member of the university's Board of Trustees. The friend and his fellow board members would determine what the university does in the event of war, and/or an attack. "Is this a good time to talk."

"Yes it is."

"I'll keep this short. The board is going to decide."

"The board is what?"

"Decide on shutting down the school. Tomorrow."

"Tomorrow."

"Tomorrow afternoon, 2 p.m., in closed session."

"Closed?"

"They want to deliberate without students and protestors outside trying to force their way in, like at Vanderbilt and Ball State this morning."

"I didn't hear about that."

"You oughta call Vandy when we get done here, see if they can play, assuming the board allows it."

"There something I need to know?"

"Unless the Russians drop a bomb somewhere, it's safe to assume the Board will allow the game on Sunday to go on. Next week and the rest of the season is up in the air. You already knew that, though."

Hagan yawned, having not gotten much sleep the night before. He decided some more coffee wouldn't hurt. "Yeah. Good idea on finding another site. I'll make a call or two. I assume we don't tell the press about this closed meeting."

"We have to announce we're having it. We'll call a press conference after the vote and announce it to the public."

"Good. I've told coach Claiborne to send the football players home, and coach Madison to do the same with his baseball team. Same with other sports out of season. The basketball coaches tell me their players want to play, but I'm thinking about whether that's a good idea--"

"Cliff, you know I'll support you whatever you decide. But know this: most of the board is willing to keep the school open until Sunday night."

"Really? Why?"

"They think the Vandy game will be good for morale. A lot of the boosters think the same--"

"Shit."

"You're having second thoughts about this, Cliff?"

"Hell yeah, I'm 'having second thoughts' about this!" Hagan said in a near-yell. "I don't want those players stranded here, out in Nicholasville or the mountains or wherever we end up going if they go to war! They have a right to go home and be with their families--"

"Hold on, Cliff," the trustee member said. "No one's suggesting we force the kids to stay here--"

"If you want a team to show up to play a game, you almost have to."

"I'm sure you know, but there's pressure coming on us, and on Singletary, from some of the legislators. One of them called me today, suggested he could get Diddle Arena if things get bad in Nashville. He also suggested scheduling Louisville next week--"

"Louisville's probably gonna shut down today or tomorrow," Hagan said. "I'm sure as hell glad if you had to call me with this shit, you did it now. Got a call at 4 this morning, some guy trying to dial his girlfriend. That'd been someone else, hell, even you, calling me about this? I'd told you to go fuck yourself."

"Come on, Cliff."

"Dammit...sorry. It's been a long day already, off a long night, and it's gonna be a long week. It's not you."

"I know. Long week for me, too. Thinking about taking the wife and kids down to her mother's in Burkesville. That's not too far from Tennessee Tech. You didn't hear this from me, but the Tennessee legislature's probably going there, and they're already moving stuff there. Classified stuff, plus they're going to try to build a medical center there in a week."

"You're kidding."

"Nope, heard it from a friend who works for a hospital firm in Knoxville. Anything breaks, we head down 61 into Tennessee, go to Livingston and down to Cookeville."

"Yeah. Sounds like a decent place to go."

"What about you and your family?"

"Probably Owensboro, not the city but south of there, more towards Central City or Beaver Dam."

"Good idea..........hello? Cliff? Cliff?"

Hagan woke back up after drifting off to sleep for a few moments. "Yeah, pal, we'll have to talk later. I really need some caffeine...or sleep. Call me back later, after that meeting."

"Will do. Get some rest, why dont'cha? Even a short nap might do you some good."

"That's a good idea."

"Goodbye." The line went dead, and Hagan folded his arms on his desk and laid his forehead on them.

The phone rang, and Hagan let it go, drifting off to sleep. Seconds after it stopped, his secretary went into his office to check on him. Seeing him asleep, she walked out to get a fresh pot of coffee for him when he woke up.

Frankfort
Capitol Annex Building, next to the Kentucky State Capitol building


KENTUCKY STATE DEFENSE ACT

The Senator from State District 32 looked at the 272-page document handed to him by his aide. He read through it to get the gist of the state plans for war and its aftermath, and marked items he objected to or wanted clarification or adjustments on.

"This thing's a few weeks too late," Frank Miller thought to himself, sitting at his desk. "We should've been working on this when the Russians blew up that plane in September."

When Korean Air Lines Flight 007 was reported destroyed on September 1, 1983, the Democrat from Bowling Green had a premonition that things would get worse. Few of his colleagues listened to him at the time. None of them were ignoring him now.

The Senator wondered if he could get himself, and his family, to the safety of Mammoth Cave if the worst happened, if they could survive, and for how long. And he wondered if the document in his hands would even come close to being helpful the day after nuclear war.
 
Writer's note: I've revised an earlier post to mention the reporter as working for the Lexington Herald-Leader. The city's morning newspaper (Herald) and afternoon paper (Leader) were combined in 1983.
 
Lexington Herald-Leader

Sports department



The Reporter read through some of the Associated Press reports about the protests around the country. New York, Chicago, Los Angeles, Washington, Philadelphia, Atlanta, Houston, Seattle, Boston, Indianapolis, Omaha.


He hoped that the ‘peace marches’ might have some effect on averting a conflict with the Soviets. His inner cynic reminded him that peace would be decided upon by people far more powerful than him, or the marchers, or the public on both sides of the Iron Curtain.


Focus on what’s going on now, he thought. There were stories to write and leads to follow up on. He was the primary beat writer for University of Kentucky sports, and both men’s and women’s basketball games this weekend were still on.


As the Reporter read an AP story about NCAA coaches debating on playing or not playing, his desk phone rang, and he picked up the receiver.


The caller wouldn’t identify himself, but told the Reporter that a Kentucky basketball player was seen walking towards the parking lot of Commonwealth Stadium, where the football team played its home games.


“Look, I’m busy—”


Don’t they practice about now?” the caller interjected. “And why is Bret Bearup in some peace march?


“Peace march?”


You hadn’t heard?


“Heard about what?”


Peace march, on campus. Someone organized it this morning, I think. Couple of hundred people out there, already. I’m on a phone near the stadium. I can’t talk too much longer.


The Reporter started to ask him why he had to get off the phone – no one was going to arrest him for contacting the media – then thought of another question.


“You see any other athletes out there?”


Dunno, man. I only follow basketball…look, gotta go—


The caller hung up. A little paranoid, the Reporter thought of him. But if a basketball player’s there…


The Reporter got up from his chair and headed to the office of the Sports Editor, who was in the middle of writing the budget for tomorrow’s section. They discussed the call, and the Sports Editor called the newsroom to discuss the caller’s tip. He got the Senior Managing Editor.


“Andy, this is Mike. I’ve got a tip for you. Jerry spoke with—" As the Sports Editor looked up from his desk, he saw the Reporter was gone.


Memorial Coliseum


The Center walked into the historic facility, where the men’s team had played for decades before moving downtown to much-larger Rupp Arena in 1976. The women’s team still played at Memorial Coliseum, and had a scheduled practice there in a few hours. At the moment, some of the men’s players were on the court going through individual drills, others were in the weight room or on the treadmill.


“You okay, Sam?” a manager asked him.


“Didn’t get much sleep last night,” he said. “The game, then the fans after the game, and the fans when we got back to campus. Then I watched TV. Longest I’ve been up since…since I can imagine.” The Center was a well-conditioned, healthy, athletic man in his early twenties, but even he needed more than three hours a sleep per night.


“TV? CNN?”


The Center nodded.


“Me too,” the manager said. “When I got back to the dorm, I talked to mom and dad. They’re worried. A lot of people are worried.”


The Center and his teammates didn’t get back to Wildcat Lodge until 10 past 1 in the morning, due to the unplanned, impromptu celebration and festivities that happened after the basketball team's game several hours ago.


While he and the team tried to rest, or changed the TV channels looking for news, many students partied all over campus and area bars throughout the night.


That was not normal for a Monday night. Then again, these weren’t normal times.


The Center spotted a copy of the Herald-Leader laying on the seat of a folding chair, and walked over to pick up the front page:


The Lexington Herald-Leader


Hagan: Cats will play on


Kentucky beats Florida 67-65


Ogarkov takes over USSR, threatens Allies


Fort Knox, Fort Campbell ramp up forces


Security tightened at Richmond Army Depot



The Center, at least, got some sleep. Some didn’t.


The Point Guard had nightmares, and finally got up at a quarter to six. He found the Shooting Guard on the phone talking to family in Marion, Indiana.


As the Center walked on court and took a basketball, one of the assistant coaches called him over.


“You see Bret? He’s the only player not here.”


The Center shook his head. “No, Coach, not since this morning.”


“Damn,” the Assistant replied. “You get any sleep.”


“A few hours, Coach.”


“Me too.” Neither he nor the Center had to explain why. “Get started, Sam. You get too tired, let me or one of the coaches know. Coach Hall said not to wear you guys out today.”


The Center set up near one of the side baskets and began shooting free throws. He missed one, made one, missed the next four, and yawned. Then his thoughts drifted from practice back home, in Georgia, and he wondered if he really needed to be in Kentucky right now.
 
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More to come, later today. Real life has been taking me away from writing, but the rest of the week looks promising for catching up and advancing the storylines.
 
Note file #1: where your state government will be when the atomic balloon goes up (and how it plans to get information to you)
I've got an update coming later today/tonight.

In the meantime, while I know of no official records on how the Kentucky state government would have handled a nuclear attack IRL, this is how things break down according to this story:

Executive Branch -- escapes to Harrodsburg in a secret, heavily defended bunker hastily being built outside town

Legislative Branch/General Assembly -- Centre College, Danville

Judicial Branch/Supreme Court -- Lincoln County Court House, Stanford

Regional Government Centers

Purchase -- Murray
Western -- Madisonville
South Central -- Bowling Green
North Central -- Bardstown
Northern -- Maysville
Central -- Danville
Southeast -- Middlesboro
Northeast -- Morehead
Eastern -- Pikeville

In the event of a nuclear exchange, official news and information will be disseminated by television and radio.

Kentucky Educational Television (KET) and operating commercial stations shall form an emergency television network for the Commonwealth. Initial programming will be official updates of news, weather and vital information (such as information on fallout) four times a day, seven days per week by stations in each market. Later, programming will expand to include movies, replays of University of Kentucky sports, and other entertainment seven days per week.

A radio network of sanctioned commercial and public stations will be the primary way state and local government disseminates official news, weather and information throughout the Commonwealth, and portions of adjacent states not able to be served by their respective state governments. In the days after a nuclear exchange, bulletins will be broadcast for 20 minutes at the top of each hour, 24 hours per day, seven days per week. Later, stations will broadcast on a full 24 hour per day schedule, including music, talk, educational, religious and other programming. Non-state network radio stations will also be allowed to resume broadcasting*.

* Pending Federal Communications Commission approval
 
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