“He’s Automatic”: Jaland Lowe Captures the Hype Around Trent Noah — Might This Be the Revolutionary Year Kentucky Fans Have Been Anticipating?

In the rolling hills of Kentucky, basketball isn’t just a sport. It’s religion, identity, and tradition all rolled into one. And each year, Wildcats fans wait—not just for wins, but for a signal. A sign that this will be the year. A year when everything clicks. When the promise of Kentucky basketball roars back to full force. This summer, that signal might have come—not from Coach John Calipari, not from a returning star, but from an incoming freshman, Jaland Lowe, who summed up the growing buzz around fellow Wildcat newcomer Trent Noah in just two words:

“He’s automatic.”

Lowe’s comment wasn’t scripted. It wasn’t even meant for headlines. But in one honest moment, it gave voice to the sentiment rippling through Lexington: something special might be brewing, and the catalyst could be a sharpshooting wing from Harlan County who’s turning heads with every jumper he swishes

To understand the hype, you need to understand Trent Noah’s journey.

Noah hails from the basketball-rich mountains of eastern Kentucky, a region that has produced its share of legends and folk heroes. But even in a storied tradition, what Noah did at Harlan County High School was jaw-dropping. Averaging over 30 points per game his senior year, he showed not just scoring ability, but range, poise, and an elite basketball IQ.

By the time he committed to Kentucky, he had become a symbol of the state’s basketball soul—tough, unflashy, yet undeniable. There’s something poetic about a small-town kid rising to don the blue and white. And he hasn’t disappointed since stepping on campus.

In early workouts and team scrimmages, Noah has shown one skill that immediately translates at any level: shooting. And not just good shooting—automatic shooting. Whether it’s spot-ups, transition threes, or contested looks off the bounce, Noah has reportedly been scorching the nets. It’s no wonder Jaland Lowe, another top recruit with NBA potential, felt compelled to speak out.

“He’s automatic,” Lowe told reporters after a team scrimmage. “You get him the ball in space, and you might as well run back on defense.”

And that’s not just praise. That’s a warning.

Trent Noah isn’t the most athletic player on the court. He’s not going to leap over defenders or break down a press with flashy handles. But his game is old-school effective: movement without the ball, a silky smooth release, perfect footwork coming off screens, and a rare level of confidence for a freshman.

Kentucky’s recent struggles have stemmed, in part, from inconsistent perimeter shooting and a lack of half-court scoring options when the game slows down. With Noah on the floor, those worries shrink. He stretches the defense in ways Kentucky hasn’t seen since Malik Monk’s breakout campaign—or perhaps even the deadly spacing provided by Doron Lamb in the 2012 championship run.

And it’s not just his shot. Those close to the program have also raved about Noah’s willingness to defend, his understanding of spacing, and his calm under pressure. He plays like someone who’s been in the SEC for years.

Lowe’s comment about Noah does more than compliment his teammate—it hints at something deeper: chemistry.

Too often, past Kentucky teams loaded with talent have faltered because of a lack of cohesion. Star players with overlapping skill sets, poor floor balance, or competition over ball-dominant roles have led to underwhelming results. But this year’s freshman class feels different. Complementary. Balanced. Purpose-driven.

Lowe, a high-IQ point guard with vision and leadership instincts, seems to relish the role of floor general. And who better to feed than a cold-blooded shooter like Noah? If the two form an early connection, Kentucky’s offense could hum in ways fans haven’t seen since the 2015 Final Four squad.

There’s no ego here—just players who love the game, trust the process, and know how to win

It’s impossible to talk about Kentucky basketball in 2025 without addressing the elephant in the room: John Calipari.

After several disappointing seasons, including early NCAA Tournament exits and a growing outcry from fans, Cal’s seat warmed considerably. Critics questioned his ability to adapt to the modern game, to balance one-and-done culture with program continuity, and to develop shooters consistently.

But this year—this team—might be his turning point.

Noah and Lowe are not just recruits. They’re signs that Calipari might be recalibrating his approach. The 2025 roster is not a who’s-who of top-10 NBA-bound freshmen, but rather a blend of high-character players with complementary skill sets: shooters, facilitators, defenders, role-players, and yes, potential stars.

If Cal can bring this group together, if he lets the offense flow through players like Lowe and Noah instead of forcing square pegs into round holes, he might just reclaim the narrative that’s slipped through his fingers.

Kentucky fans don’t just want wins. They want identity. In the best years, Kentucky teams weren’t just good—they had swagger. They dictated games, silenced hostile crowds, and brought Rupp Arena to life in ways only true believers understand.

This year’s roster has the potential to revive that identity—not through overpowering talent alone, but through chemistry, toughness, and elite execution.

Imagine this: Lowe commanding the floor with poise beyond his years. Noah curling off screens, catching in rhythm, and splashing threes with a textbook release. The bench erupting after each make. Rupp Arena thundering with chants of “Trent! Trent! Trent!”

That’s not just a dream. That’s within reach.

Let’s be clear: one summer scrimmage and a quote doesn’t win championships. Kentucky’s path back to prominence will still require consistent execution, defensive commitment, health, and leadership.

Trent Noah, despite his impressive early play, is still a freshman. He’ll have cold stretches. He’ll face pressure. And opponents will scheme to take away his sweet spots. How he responds will define his impact.

But there’s something unmistakable in this team’s early vibe. They’re hungry. They’re unselfish. And most importantly, they seem to be embracing the weight of Kentucky’s legacy rather than running from it.

Lowe’s praise of Noah isn’t just about a teammate hitting shots. It’s about trust. It’s about recognition. And it’s about belief.

It’s been a trying few years for Big Blue Nation. Heartbreak. Frustration. A feeling that the magic of Kentucky basketball was slipping through the cracks of the transfer portal and modern recruiting chaos.

But hope is a powerful thing. And right now, hope wears No. 24 and shoots like his hands were kissed by the basketball gods.

If Trent Noah continues to shoot at this level—and if Jaland Lowe continues to find him in stride—the revolution Kentucky fans have been waiting for might not be a whisper. It might be a roar.

He’s automatic.
Yes, he is. And maybe, just maybe, so is Kentucky’s return to greatness.