Rocky Stop!

The University of Alabama Crimson Tide defeat the University of Tennessee Volunteers 12-10 on Saturday October 24, 2009 in Tuscaloosa, Ala

There really are no words to describe the way one feels after something like that happens. My whole life I have dedicated such strong emotion for sports. Yet, last night made me realize that even if I wasn't such a sports enthusiast I would have still experienced the feeling of bliss as I sang the words of my school's ever-so-taunting song.

Hey Vols! Hey Vols! Hey Vols! We just beat the hell out of you, Rammer jammer yellow hammer give 'em hell, Alabama!

It always feels good to sing that song when Alabama, with it's spectacular special teams and indestructable defense, adds another opponent to the long list of wins in our record book. When you're singing it to the the Volunteers of the University of Tennessee, however, the words and the tune just sound so much sweeter.


The rivalry that compares to very few has entered a whole new era with Nick Saban and Lane Kiffen leading the boys in crimson and one well-hated shade of orange. Dating back to Robert Neyland and Paul Bryant, October's famous game is still sixty minutes that holds just as much emotion as it does tradition. When Tennessee comes to town, it is more than just a normal Saturday in Tuscaloosa. The tailgaters are in their normal spots sprawling across the quaint University of Alabama campus and the Million Dollar Band still leads the crowd in routine cheer throughout the game. By game's end, though, the song favored by the Alabama student body and the Crimson Tide die-hards is shouted with a little more glee as the boys in Crimson spend an extra few minutes of excitement with their fellow students in Bryant-Denny's South endzone. It's a historical rivalry that makes for a highly anticipated Saturday in Dixie.


The three times Tennessee has visited Tuscaloosa in my five-season tenure as a student at the Capstone, I've had the pleasure of singing 'Rammer Jammer' each time. The infamous 'Rocky Stop' game in 2005 that resulted in the Crimson Tide's 6-3 victory over Tennessee is what I had always figured would be my biggest nail-biter and near heart-attack type game. That was until the feelings of excitement in pride set in after the 12-10 victory over our most hated rival. As a student, last night was indescribable

As it is every year, this season of college football is full of surprises. We were all surprised with Southern California's loss to Washington. We were shocked when Tim Tebow suffered a concussion. We're all a little surprised that Bobby Bowden doesn't see that it is time to step down. And some of us are surprised at how one man is capable of turning around a program in only three seasons. Not me. As part of the 'Alabama faithful', I am not shocked that Alabama is regaining control of football's throne.

When Nick Saban announced he would be the coach of the University of Alabama Crimson Tide in January 2007, the people in Baton Rouge knew the Tide was about to turn. The coaching staff in Gainesville hoped he 'pissed off' enough Miami Dolphins fans so that recruiting in Florida wouldn't become a problem. The people on the East side of Alabama were scared of what the future would hold for the annual "Iron Bowl" showdown. Phil Fulmer, the then-coach of Tennessee, went back to researching any other way he could make the NCAA hate Alabama, as he was known for. In Tuscaloosa, however, a new light was shed on the football crazed town. The rising of the Tide meant a turning of the page. For a program that is criticized for living in the past and for the people who are critisized for not believing the football program they adore so much was at a dead end, the hiring of Coach Saban was a salvation. The frustration of mediocricy and the hate in losing was finally relieved when Mal Moore, the Alabama athletics director, presented to the Crimson Tide faithful the man who would put their boys in pads back on the road to domination. His first year was an expected slow start. His second year was an undefeated regular season that, after winning the Western division, gave the Tide a chance to play in Atlanta for the SEC Title - the first time since 1999 - and a BCS bid to play in the Sugar Bowl. His third year, he's coaching another unbeaten team who plays a weekly game of musical chairs with Urban Meyer and the Florida Gators for the nation's "No. 1" poll rankings. Two years in a row, might I add, Saban has proved to be a recruiting genius with the commitments he has received from high school football's most elite members. In a personal, off-the-record conversation I had with a member of his coaching staff, whose name I will withold, Nick Saban's coaching power was described like this: "Hell, he'd have all 95 pounds of you convinced you could run through that brick wall. You'd believe him because he's that good at what he does. I know he seems a little harsh in the media and a lot of people call him a jackass, but his job is to coach those boys and I've never seen anyone do it better. You'll see."

We've seen, all right. It's undeniable that the Tide has risen. There is no doubt that Alabama is a good football team. You can't misconstrude what the experts say, no matter how badly you want to disagree. With Alabama's success each week, those who warrant any speculation or disapproval of what Saban is doing lacks what large amount of credibility is needed to argue the case of the Crimson Tide's road to the national championship. Kirk Herbstreit,the well-known ESPN college football analyst, put it this way in 2007, shortly after Nick Saban took the head coaching job in Tuscaloosa: "At Alabama all Saban has to do is shore up the special teams and the defensive line. If he does that, Alabama will be shocking a lot of people in the college football world."

Now, in the 2009 season, Alabama's special teams and their defensive line are both regarded as the best in the nation. A mediocre quarterback, Greg McElroy, is a first-year starter who has made the expected mistakes that come with inexperience, but at the same time he proves his ability to get his job done. When you have the amount of strength in your defense that Alabama has, a less-thrilling offense is rightly excusable. Except, Saban's play-calling (especially in the 'Wildcat Formation') is thrilling enough in it's self. When you add top Heisman candidate and running back Mark Ingram in to the picture, the thrills that come from McElroy, Ingram, and the rest of the Tide's offense, are felt just as often as they are when the defensive boys are on the field.

Thrills are everywhere in Tuscaloosa these days. They come on Friday afternoons when tents pop up under the oak trees on the quad. It's thrilling to hear the Million Dollar Band practicing on the field that is over looked by the tower that is seen in so many iconic images of the late Paul Bryant. The thrill of waking up on a Saturday in the fall and dressing in our best dress or suit and pouring out in to Tuscaloosa's streets in good cheer for our team while upholding respect for the visiting fans. Spectacularly thrilling is the sound of 'the Bear' through the stadium speakers as a video highlights the twelve years in college football owned by the University of Alabama. And as each week passes, the excitement and thrill grows deeper in the heart of the Crimson Tide fanbase. It warms the heart when the thought of a thirteenth title beings to look even more like a very near reality. A dream come true, if you will.

Only a couple of years ago did the dream of that thirteenth title seem like a distant fantasy because of the Crimson Tide's probation nightmare. The up-hill struggle with the NCAA was accompanied with a whirlwind of coaching changes while becoming inferior to Auburn - the hated, in-state, conference and Western-division rival. When Saban came to town, Herbstreit simply stated on ESPN, "All due respect to Auburn... but when Alabama gets this thing going, they control that state." Saban's first-year loss to Auburn was hardly a blow-out victory for then-head coach Tommy Tubberville and his Auburn Tigers. Saban's second-year was an "Iron Bowl" victory for Alabama. Not just any victory - a shut out, the ending of Auburn's seven-year winning streak, the completion of Alabama's undefeated regular season, and the 'unsaid' reason behind Auburn's firing of Tubberville. In this case, the expert was right. The nightmare seemed to be over and the dream was coming true. Alabamians could finally sleep at night.

Being one of the thousands in the 'Bama student section last night, I looked around at the masses behind me in an attempt to take it all in. The break I took from yelling at referees and screaming for my team gave me a chance to soak in all the thrills that are exclusive to the Alabama family. I'm talking the experience that is only known to the fellow students that sat around me. The student body is made up of 25,000 individuals that each have their own background, their own values and moral beliefs, and unique life journeys. However, we share a common bond that threads us to our neighbor and, on Saturday, we are 'one.' We have a shared love for our school and we support her just as she has supported us. She is our 'home away from home' and, in a sense, she is our family. We prefer her crimson glow and we all find a nemesis in all of the different shades of orange that threaten to stain her on Saturdays in the Fall. We sing our own version of Rocky Top. We haven't the slightest care that bourbon drinks are flying and splashing amongst us as we sing 'Rammer Jammer.' The celebration, like the one last night, is a sweet, sweet expression of joy for our family because our brothers in pads won. The extra sweet, like I said before, is because our brothers in pads won - against Tennessee!

Sure, I am aware that Terrence Cody had to desperately block two field goals to protect our team's perfect winning record. I was there when the Tennessee kicker was actually able to get it over the Tide's phenomenal blockers but still couldn't get the three points out of it. I was also there when Mark Ingram fumbled the ball. The sweetest of them all is, I was there when the student section went into hysteria after UT's last-second attempt was thrown back in their face, literally. I was there with the 92,011 others who were fortunate enough to see the game that left everyone anxiety-ridden, yet ever so appropriate in regard to the storied rivalry of our lady 'Bama and her much-hated 'Vols' from Knoxville, Tennessee .

The game was, undoubtedly, Southern football at it's finest and with Terrence Cody's heroic effort it was proof that our school's fight song tells no lies, "you're Dixie's football pride, Crimson Tide!"


Roll Tide!
-BJJ

A Cinderella Story x 27 = UNC Women's Soccer

Being born with a true Tar Heel spirit and playing highly competitive club soccer and school soccer my whole life, I was always aware of the fact that the University of North Carolina Women's Soccer program was the ultimate success story in NCAA Women's Athletics.

Each year my Dad would buy me a t-shirt from the well known store, 'Johnny T-Shirt', that occupies a spot on the sometimes-cozy-but-usually-wild-and-crazy strip of Franklin Street in Chapel Hill. My highly anticipated, annual tee shirt adorned a Tar Heel Women's Soccer logo in the perfect shade of blue on it's front and on the back was a list of every year Anson Dorrance and the Lady Tar Heels won the NCAA National Title ('81, '82, '83, '84, '86, '87, '88, '89, '90, '91, '92, '93, '94, '96, '97, '99, 2000, 2003, 2006, 2008). In replacement of the 1985, 1995, 1998, 2001, 2002, 2004, 2005, and 2007 seasons was a word that simply summed up the reason why UNC has not completely held down the nation for 27 years. The 8 years (out of 27) are described on the back of my favorite t-shirt just like this - "Oops!"

Ya, no big deal, huh? Just a shrug of the shoulder with sly grin and a cynical, sarcastic "Oops!" comment and maybe a little rolling of the eye and you've got it mastered - "Oops!"

Of course, if you are a girl who happened to be a soccer player at North Carolina during any of the 8 non-title winning years then I can assume the intense feelings disappointment and guilt are indescribable. However, one sarcastic word sums it up perfect and tells a true story. A little mistake. An imperfection. A defect in the system of elitism. That's it; that's all folks!

Maybe if you happen to be a Tar Heel women's soccer player during any of those 8 years you weren't really disappointed and instead inspired by an opportunity to arise to a challenge. Arising to that challenge with high and mighty confidence, however, because at the end of the day you're still a Tar Heel and they're not and you don't lose any sleep because you are part of the dynasty. An incredibly storied and historic dynasty. The ugly step-sister may have beat you 8 times in 27 years, but when you're the main character you're everyone's favorite. We'll all anxiously await the "happily ever after" because you're a Tar Heel soccer player -you're Cinderella - appropriately dressed in light blue beauty.

Anson Dorrance, the head coach of the Carolina Women's Soccer team, is not-mistakenly the John Wooden of the female athletic world. The fairy godfather in the essence of fairy tales and happily ever afters. He's a winner, his players are the elite, and his dynasty is far from being destroyed. Well known soccer players like Mia Hamm, Kristine Lilly, Cindy Parlow, and Tisha Venturini wore the sacred Tar Heel jersey before they were Gold medal winning Olympians and World Cup Champions and Gatorade spokeswomen. Their fairy tale began as hard-working student athletes and spiraled into being champions, world travelers, heroes, and idols to little pony-tailed girls in Florida.

As a whole, I idolize the women from the past and present that have contributed and currently represent the success of the most powerful women's soccer program in the nation. The Princesses in this fairy tale of ultimate sport's hierarchy and their coach/fairy godfather/King/Prince Charming/Knight in Shining Armour (whatever defines his legacy best) changed the relationship between athletics and feminism. "Playing like a girl" isn't an insult anymore. Little girls grow up wanting to be the next Mia Hamm like our male counterparts grew up wanting to be like Mike and now our little boys won't go golfing with their Dad in anything other than a red Nike polo because of a guy named Tiger Woods. Some of us girls - maybe it is just me - are scarred for life because our parents made us go to the DUKE Women's Soccer Camp because we were too small to attend Anson Dorrance's soccer camp 7 miles down the lovely Tobacco Road in nearby Chapel Hill. While I was playing soccer (not learning anything from the Lady Blue Devils because they're AWFUL) and biting my tounge in Gotham City, my sister was living it up at UNC on Fetzer Field with NCAA legends. (Note: this was when I finally had solid evidence to support my argument that I was not the favorite daughter).

Wait, it gets better. Not only did I attend DUKE soccer camp, I also attended THE UNIVERSITY OF FLORIDA soccer camp. Seriously, I'm not joking. The two schools in the entire nation that I have nothing but pure hatred for was my 'home away from home' for a week. Do you feel my bitterness? The only thing I learned at either camp was how to bite my tounge and I'm using those skills right now because I have other preferred choice-words to describe Duke and UF and those couple of weeks that negatively and permanently affected the rest of my life.

Baily, count to ten, go to your 'happy place', take deep breathes and exhale slowly......

Happy place. Ok, UNC-Chapel Hill.........

Furthermore, the near-perfection of these role models that the UNC Women's Soccer program provided to many people set the standard for winning and defined what it meant to be a winner.

The dynasty that is often forgotten amongst the rest of the sport's crazed has yet to slow down in proving that when you've won 19 out of the 27 possible NCAA titles you've contested for you don't have to boast or brag to convince others that you were a successful student-athlete or that your college years were a blast. We believe you; we're convinced, trust me. Not to mention that those 8 the Heels weren't the National Champion they were runner-up (1985, 1998, 2001), or you were in the quarter-finals or semi-finals (1995, 2002, 2005), or at the very worst - the Sweet 16 (2004 and 2007). Maybe that's what makes this legacy so special - the ones who appreciate and respect sports in its entirety have not forgotten this storied success. The true sport's crazed spirit knows what a dynasty is, what a legend is, what a legacy is. They're not boastful, they don't brag, they don't make giant spectacles of themselves, and they don't hand out nicknames like 'Superman' just because a couple of national titles were won. Dynasties, legends, legacies - these things speak for themselves and when something IS needed to be said it's a simple "Oops!" to admit a mistake was made.

The female athlete hasn't always been accepted in the way she is today. Twenty-seven years ago there was no North Carolina Women's Soccer program. However, the impact the Lady Tar Heel has made on the post-feminist sport's world is large. The power vested in the 27 year-old program was made by defeating opponents, criticism, and sexism on Fetzer Field while maintaining lady-like poise and world-class sportsmanship. They turned fairy tales in to realities for competitive youth soccer players and gave parents someone to point to and say to their own little Tar Heel girl "work hard, don't quit, she sure as hell didn't." That now little Alabama girl can forever be grateful to soccer, the female athlete, and having a league of their own. She can forever have utmost respect for the women who changed the course of history. She can forever be appreciative of a true dynasty. She can forever be full of spirit for her favorite team, her favorite idols, and her favorite legends. In essence of little girls not being sugar and spice and everything nice because the female athlete changed that idea, that little girl can forever love to hate hate hate her nemesis' of Duke and UF.

She can write sport's articles, she can argue with the boys, and she can leave her mark in the records book as well. The female-athlete - the beauty in being a badass, having the heart and soul of a champion, and being way more than just a pretty face.

So, happily ever after's may exist for some of us and may not exist for others but the opportunity to get in the game and to go out there and make it happen exists for us ALL.

Put me in coach!

As always, Go Heels and Roll Tide!!

-BJJ

I'm in Florida.

And no, they do not talk about anything else on the news hear other than Tim Tebow.

A League of Their Own: THE SOUTHEASTERN CONFERENCE

After taking a short break from blogging, I have made an effort to set aside an hour or so each day to get some of the sport's talk off of my mind. As a student at the University of Alabama and the first month of college football behind me, it seems the weather is cooling off but opinions are just heating up.

Staying true to it's nature, college football is a far cry from boring. With each Saturday meaning life or death in the Bowl Championship Series the players who suit up in pads and helmets not only carry with them the pride of their inner-being, but the pride, glories, and traditions that come with the uniform. How much pressure, I wonder, do the boys in Crimson deal with each Saturday as they take their opponents while trying to keep the unspoken promise made to the Alabama student section that this is our return to glory? What type of pressure must Tim Tebow feel when his nickname is "Superman" yet he is on the injured list after a mild concussion? How do you measure the embarassment of each Trojan after losing to Washington? Do you have what it takes as a Penn State player to return to Happy Valley being just that - happy? Or are you disguested and share the same embarassment that the Pac-10 favorite does?

Rightly so, the big men on campus of the Southeastern Conference have brought power, eliteism, and sacredness back to the reputable "toughtest conference in college football." Like a band of brothers, the Tigers of Louisiana State University, the Crimson Tide of Alabama, the hotty-totty Rebels of Mississippi, the Bulldogs of Georgia, and the Gators of Florida, have made contending for a BCS bid as natural as calling home to Mama and using those deep-root Southern manners.

Maybe that's what makes the Southeastern Conference so magical. If you're good, then that means you're following the tradition that your predecessor left you. If you're not having such a great season, then that only means that you're on your way back up there, as long as you keep the faith. Because in the South, football is a religion and those who remain faithful will be blessed. Those of us that are lucky enough to go to an SEC school know this, plus we all learned it in Sunday school at one time or another growing up.

In the SEC you may be third in your conference, but whether the ESPN commentators or the SportsIllustrated columnists agree, you know you can beat almost anybody. You have to play the best in order to be the best and that's exactly what the Southeastern Conference does year after year. The coaches may ruffle one anothers feathers with jabs and cynical comments during press conferences, the players may talk dirty or have personal rivalries of their own, and the fans may get out of line and forget their Southern manners every now and then - but why? Because it's a love for your school. A tradition, a legacy, another year to be added to the sacred vault of the nation's most elite members of the football world.

On a Saturday in the Southeastern Conference it's a promise that is always kept - 'It's going to be a good game!'

I've often wondered what it would be like to go to a Northern school. It's never a pleasant day-dream. I allude to the assumption that Saturday gamedays are smaller than our high school football games under Friday night lights. I cringe at the frumpy cold-weathered clothing they must wear and then smile as I make a mental note of my dress closet and plan my gameday attire for a Southern Saturday. I wonder if in the North a football game is an all-day cocktail party as it is in the South. What must it be like to eat bratwurst and pizza in the stadium rather than a Bryant-Denny 'Stadium Dog', I often wonder. Do they call it a 'pom-pom' or a 'shaker', would they even know what I'm talking about? Do they give a damn at a heart-breaking loss or are they used to losing so much that it doesn't phase them? Would a last-second drive in overtime by Georgia leave them feeling numb and able to hear a pin drop in their student section or would they be excited just to have held Georgia that close for over 60 minutes of playing time?

Lexington, Knoxville, Nashville, Fayeteville, Starksville, Oxford, Baton Rouge, Tuscaloosa, Auburn, Athens, Gainesville, Columbia. Each city, each school bearing it's different colors, fanhood, and tradition but at the same time united in a respect and gratitude to it's neighbor for making Saturday's the Sabbath. For giving us all a religion that we can share and all belong to, for helping us love our roots even more as we shed our blood, sweeat and tears. It's something that Ann Arbor, Michigan and Los Angeles, California can never be. The hate, the love, the rivalry, the intensity, the honor, the glory, and the voices from the past. It doesn't cease when the season does - recruiting wars only propell expectations and hopes for the future.

The city I love, the school I go to, and the Crimson uniform that I pull for, sit along the banks of the Black Warrior River. The leaves are falling, but the Tide is rising. The Autumn breeze sends a chill down your spine on your walk to class as each corner of campus reminds you that not only are you standing on a beautiful campus, but you're standing on the same concrete sidewalks that Joe Namath, Kenny Stabler, and Jay Barker did. The smell of barbeque and beer makes it hard not to crack a smile because it's just another reminder that this is 'home away from home' and that, in the South, throwing some meat over charcoal beats the hell out of fancy white tablecloths anyday. It's tail-gating in a sea of people dressed in shades of red on your schools quad, and giving an understanding nod to Ole Miss' "Grove" for doing it in their own unique way. It's breweries in Athens that make you feel at home because of each person's Southern twang and respect for the sport you love. It's striking up a conversation about basketball with a Kentucky fan. It's loving to hate Tennessee but knowing you'd pull for them if they were playing a non-SEC opponent. It's Sugar Bowls in New Orleans and, despite being beat last year, the feeling of belongingness you had because it's the South - our territory, and a culture not understandable to a Utah fan.

My passion for football may be new and youthful, but it's tried and true. I may have been born with a Tar Heel soul and a name in honor of a basketball great, but my children will be born with an a Crimson Tide soul and an inherited appreciation for deep, Southern roots. Passion has no age. Passion is love, hate, envy, and confidence. It can be born but it never dies. Once you fall in love with something that is full of intimate respect, growing passion, and unwavering faith, it becomes a part of you.

Just as a family is a unit of oneness built around respect, passion, and faith is a relationship between sport and culture. The South builds it's reputation for football around those same things. It is indescribable what it is like to be a part of this football crazed culture. It is more than reading articles and keeping up to date on ACC Basketball news in order to remain a part of the basketball crazed culture because it happens right before my eyes each and every day. For four years I've witnessed heart-breaking losses that poured tears from my eyes as if someone turned a switch and I've witnessed unexpected victories that were won as if we all actually did expect it because in this neck of the woods unsinkable ships sink and rankings are thrown out the window.

As a little Tar Heel girl who grew up to be a young Crimson Tide woman, I must set aside time to reflect on the things that make me who I am. Like I've always said, I'm one part Carolina the other part Alabama. My whole being is as if I'm psychiatrically wired as a split personality. If you know me well enough then you know that there is the 'basketball me' and the 'football me' that it is as if the current sports season determines which Baily is functioning at the time. As Week 5 approaches us in this football season of uncertainty, the 'football me' is in full function and my heart is pumping my crimson blood. (note: Not to worry, a supply of blue blood is still running through my veins with love for Butch Davis and Carolina football as well).

As the Tide heads to Lexington, Kentucky for a game against the Wildcats I can only hope Greg McElroy doesn't spend the night in the UK Medical Center as did Florida's Tim Tebow last week. Prepared for anything, as anything is possible in the great and mighty conference, I feel confident that the Tide is high and rolling on. But, like I said, each team that wears the SEC logo on the chest of their uniform is a part of football's elite and deserving of the credit it deserves.

So to my fellow Southerners - as you sip your next bourbon drink or relax with a jar of sweet tea, give a little cheer to the Crimson Tide in hopes that their first SEC Road Game can keep them on the straight and narrow path to the BCS Championship.

As always, Go Heels and Roll Tide!

-BJJ