It is time for me to be brutally honest. Time to come out of the closet. It's not exactly something I have ever tried to hide. In fact, I am very proud of it. Most of my family knows. My close friends are all aware. And I am willing to bet that the people I work with suspect, at the very least.

I am an NCAA men's basketball fanatic! (What did you think I was talking about?) Specifically, I am an avid fan of the Kentucky Wildcats. Oddly enough, I was never much of a sports fan before I went to college. Rooting for my hometown teams was about as far as I ever got.

At the age of 18, I moved to Kentucky -- land of horses, bourbon, tobacco and college basketball. The latter not necessarily being as critical to economic survival, but essential nonetheless. Love it or leave is the unspoken philosophy of the basketball religion. Before I knew it, I was a convert.

Now that football season is coming to a close, basketball fever has begun anew. I feel somewhat out of place here in the land of Joe Paterno and the Nittany Lions. I have tried my best to "get it," but I am afraid I'm not quite there yet.

I will never forget the first time I saw someone carrying around a Joe Pa doll. For as much as Kentuckians once revered Benedict Arnold, er . . . I mean Rick Pitino, we never went quite that far. But I suppose, regardless of the venue, we sports fans can be a crazy lot.

I myself, if you can imagine it, have been known to scream at television sets, claw at the floor with my hands, and utter words and sounds that would make your toenails curl. I think my parents dread having me over Christmas for that very reason -- that and the fact that I will be commandeering my dad's big screen television.

In November, I had a chance to see the Wildcats in exhibition play. Sitting in the stands of Rupp Arena, eyes fixed on the court, the thrill of six seasons, four championship games and two national titles -- and the riots that went with them -- came rushing through me. Surrounded by a sea of blue and white, I knew that I was home.

"Hail Kentucky! Alma Mater. Loyal sons and daughters we." The alma mater doesn't say anything about loyal basketball fans, but trust me when I tell you it's implied.

Before you jump on my case, I realize that Penn State has a basketball team too.

And yes, I know that they saw tournament play last year for the first time in like a hundred years. I even rooted for them. I will enthusiastically root for Penn State this year, too -- until or unless the team faces off with Kentucky.

My department head, Blannie Bowen, constantly reminds me that Kentucky lost to Penn State in Rupp Arena during last year's season opener. I then remind him that this is a new season, and the Crispin brothers are gone. As my friend Danyelle would say, "Live in the now!"

Throughout football season, I have been pondering a few things: How often does one find a town that gets this excited about a season with only a few victories? Why spend $100 million renovating a football stadium? What motivates people to sit out in the elements for hours when there are less time consuming and more exciting events indoors -- say, for instance, basketball? Last but not least, what exactly is the point of football?

I have kept these queries to myself, because I realize that there are many poor, unfortunate souls who do not share my appreciation for basketball. Instead, I have tried to walk a mile in your football cleats. Nevertheless, I have found that I prefer my Nike high-tops.

As we enter a new basketball season, and I prepare to root Tubby Smith and the Kentucky Wildcats on to anticipated victory, please bear with my fanaticism. Join me if you like. I have been subjected to about as much football as I can stand at this point.

Now I can finally come out in the open and be myself.

I may never be able to get football in the same way that Penn Staters do, and you all may never get basketball the way the Wildcats do. To each his own, I suppose. We all have our addictions.