by Tread
Unless you live under a rock or in Louisville–you no doubt have realized that our University of Kentucky Wildcat Men’s Basketball Teams sits atop the heap that is college hoops. #1 in the SEC, #1 in the USA. #1. But it’s February, not March. Plenty to do people, plenty to do. But if there is a single reason that so many of us are holding onto hope through the winter that this team might just be capable of hanging a championship banner in the house the Baron built, it’s Freshman Anthony Davis. Just possibly, if you listen to the talking suits, the best player in the country, and unanimously the bestdefensive player in the game right now.
We’ve all heard the chatter, he was a guard most of his high school career before adding eight inches in height and about 87 feet in wingspan his senior campaign. A late growth spurt, indeed, but even more amazing than the changes in this young man’s body was the change brought on by that hormonal surge that is visible some few marks on the ruler about his eyes. His eyebrows, er, eyebrow, I should say. Referring to them (it) as a pair is akin to referring to Chang and Eng Bunker as “close.” They are conjoined people, one, #1.
Oh, that wooly black snake that stretches from about ear to ear is a thing of ridicule to the less informed. I’ve heard them all from the jealous minions on the road, “unibrow,” “batwing,” “visor,” “monobrow,” even the blue faithful occasionally utter under their breath to one another, “wah don’t he do somethin’ about his albrows?” Oh, you poor blind and simple miscreants. Why didn’t Sampson do something with his long flowing locks? Do you not think when he was getting all violent with that ass’s jawbone someone from the stands wasn’t a warbling “mullet,” “billy ray,” “West Virginia waterfall?” And when that hussy Delilah finally gave him the fuzz buzz, well, we know how that turned out, now don’t we?
Great athletes always have something that distinguishes them from the masses. 
Michael Jordan had the shoes and the aerial wizardry. Olympic high jumper Dwight Stones had a Mickey Mouse shirt. Tim Tebow has virginity and the potential of a swollen prostate, oh yeah, and religion.
So why shouldn’t young Master Davis continue to sport his hirsute eye protector of power, persistence, and prowess? Or maybe we should begin to refer to it as “browess.” He’s not the first great person throw away the tweezers and in many cultures older and less inclined to get fat sucked out of their butts and put in their lips, it’s a sign of purity and virility. So I say, hey #BBN (that’s a hashtag for Big Blue Nation, mamaw) from now until we carry home that big nasty trophy, ditch the wax, scissors, needle nose pliers andtell the rest of the college basketball world to go pluck itself–we got Anthony Davis in the paint
and while his adversaries are busy, mouth all agape with wonder over his luxurious eyebrows, he’s smacking that layup into their solar plexus.
Brow down, Frida is a road seldom traveled by the multitude.
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