“Pick up. Pick UP!”

I could hear those words from my clingy 2-year-old in my head, even long after he was put to bed. It had been a long day. His 4-year-old brother was pestering him to get my attention, all while it was being pulled away by my 3-month-old daughter. Those headaches were nothing compared to the third-quarter flag fest I had just witnessed between Kentucky and Murray State.

On that Saturday I spent three hours chasing children and firing off posts before driving 90 minutes to an 8-hour pressbox shift. The Kroger Field coffee pot was prematurely empty. Peake’s camera didn’t want to Rapidly React. The Taco Bell nightcap spilled onto my shirt.

The day called for some of the good stuff from my bar-turned-diaper-changing table and a little music.

After a few minutes of exhaling, I was whistling along with Otis Redding. He whistled a tune while sitting on the dock of the bay, watching the tides roll away. He shared joy in the ordinary despite the troubled life he led. That message has been heard by millions, although he never got to hear it. Redding died in a plane accident three days after the song was recorded, before his biggest hit ever reached the airwaves.

There’s beauty in that tragedy. Redding was content in an otherwise mundane scene, one he never got to enjoy again.

Contentment is perverse in our society. We often overlook what we have while in the pursuit of something greater. Mark Pope appears to have found a balance we should all strive for.

A Parenting Lesson from Mark Pope I Won’t Forget

Mark Pope appeals to so many around Big Blue Nation because he’s one of us. It’s not just because he went to Kentucky and knows the circus that follows this basketball program. His enthusiasm for this position cannot be faked. He is who he is 100% of the time, and that includes being a parent.

Ahead of his debut on the national stage against Duke, The Athletic published a feature that went to great lengths to describe how Mark Pope is a “coach unlike any other.” One particular excerpt struck me, one that I needed to reread while searching for clarity on a mundane Saturday night.

It usually plays out something like this. The family is packed in an elevator, or standing together in an airport, or waiting in line at a coffee shop, minding their own business, when the old trope comes up. Some guy sees Pope, sees the wife, sees the four daughters, and quips, “Sheesh, sorry, man,” or, “Man, got your hands full,” or whatever other empty-headed zinger seems like a good idea.

But Pope doesn’t do tropes. Instead, things get very uncomfortable, very quickly. Pope has, according to Lee Anne, never laughed, never played along. Not once. Not ever. Instead, he clenches his jaw, narrows his eyes and spits back. “Are you kidding me, man? This is the best. Do you know how lucky I am?”

The Athletic

It just so happens that on that Saturday, I ran into that old trope on more than one occasion while making my rounds at Kroger Field. “How many kids do you have now? Three! Oh, wow. Good luck.”

I appreciate the sentiment. After all, I took a couple of head-butts and a swift kick to the groin while playing “tackle” with my boys. The physical pain is just one of the understated parts of being a parent with three young children.

And yet there I was, staring into Christmas tree lights, wondering why I deserved the right to feel bad about myself after a rough day.

Mark Pope surely has rough days. He probably stared blankly off into the distance after his BYU team got trounced by Duquesne in the NCAA Tournament. Yet just a few weeks later, he would be embraced by thousands of fans at Rupp Arena as he was introduced as the next head basketball coach at Kentucky.

Mark Pope tells strangers that he is lucky to have a loving wife and four wonderful children. That gratitude stems from contentment. Being content does not have to diminish one’s drive. You think he got to Kentucky by not being motivated to succeed every day? However, that drive for immediate success forces us to often overlook all of the good we have right in front of us.

Perspective is all in the eye of the beholder. A little reflection went a long way. I got to spend my day with three beautiful children and a loving wife before I got paid to write about the team I grew up idolizing. Thanks to the Kentucky head coach, I do know how lucky I am.