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
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