I missed one of the best
sports weekends of the year in Memphis — a Carl Edwards win at Memphis
Motorsports Park and a Tiger football victory over archrival Southern Miss at
the Liberty Bowl — but I have a decent excuse. I made a 400-mile pilgrimage to
Neyland Stadium in Knoxville for my first Tennessee-Alabama gridiron clash.
There are football teams and football programs. Then there’s football culture. A
few observations from my birthplace:
Among interstate rivalries in college
football, the only series remotely close to Tennessee-Alabama are Michigan-Ohio
State and Texas-Oklahoma. The only program with more bowl appearances than
Tennessee’s 47 is, you guessed it, Alabama with 55. In the now 76-year history
of the greatest conference in the sport, the programs with the most wins in the
SEC (each with more than 300) are, yep, Alabama and Tennessee. I was raised by
UT grads who didn’t adhere all that much to the tailgating life on fall
Saturdays, and we moved so much that Knoxville has been more of a memory to me
than a hometown. But my parents always emphasized that if I were to watch a
single football game each year, it needs to be UT-Bama. Last Saturday, I
fulfilled that lifetime obligation
About three hours before kickoff, I ran into
Condredge Holloway outside the Tennessee football hall of fame museum. Now an
administrator with the UT athletics department, Holloway starred for the Vols
between 1972 and 1974, and was the first black quarterback in the SEC. When I
asked him what kind of chances the home team had against the number-two ranked
Crimson Tide, Holloway said, “They’re going to have to take it; we’re not going
to give it to them. And that’s the great thing about youth: these kids believe
that.” Holloway faced Alabama three times in his career, with the Tide among the
nation’s top four all three occasions. He never won. Saturday’s 29-9 Alabama win
had to look all too familiar
Shortly before kickoff, I saw a little girl —
no older than 5 — on an entry ramp, twenty feet above a lot filled with
tailgaters. Wearing an orange number-27 jersey (for all of you Al Wilson fans)
the child — at the top of her lungs — led chants of “Go, Big Orange! Go, Big
Orange!” and “Boo, Alabama! Boo, Alabama!” Somewhat creepy, I saw no adult
within 20 feet of her. Should you doubt the permanence or cross-generational
strength of the south’s greatest football rivalry, I’ll remind you of this
little girl. And I’ll be wondering just what kind of scholarship she’ll pursue
Tennessee held a pregame ceremony to
celebrate the 10th anniversary of its 1998 national championship team (the first
winner, by the way, of a “BCS” title). Among the dozens of celebrants on the
field were familiar faces in Big Orange country like Tee Martin, Peerless Price,
and the aforementioned Wilson. But on this night, the ceremony did an ironic
disfavor to UT coach Phillip Fulmer, as it served to merely contrast how far the
program has fallen in but a decade. Even with three appearances in the SEC
championship game (though no wins) since ’98, the program comes across as
several strides behind Florida, LSU, Georgia, and of course, Alabama
With a healthy Arkelon Hall,
the University of Memphis has more talent at the offensive skill positions than
does Tennessee. (And having scored 36 points with Hall on the sideline last
Saturday night, the qualifier may not be necessary.) Considering the enormous
recruiting advantages Fulmer has over Tommy West and his staff, this is a
serious matter for the Volunteer program. Don’t be surprised if UT starts
looking at junior-college programs for a quick fix or two at the glamour spots.
On the subject of Fulmer’s job status, I was
asked by an orange-clad fan (presumably a student) as we were leaving the
stadium who might be Tennessee’s coach next season. When I suggested that I may
just get in line to apply, the gentleman responded, “But why not me? I’m
younger!” The entire drive home, I’ve been trying to figure out where that came
from. Smarter? Okay. Better looking? Fine. But younger?? Next time I head to
Neyland Stadium, I’m taking my walking stick
The best part of the trip were the hours I
got to spend with an old friend I don’t see nearly enough. A proud alum from
Murfreesboro, he literally got sick 12 years ago when he witnessed the Tigers’
epic upset of Peyton Manning’s Vols on what he was sure was a casual visit to
the Bluff City. Memories like these — yes, even the gut-wrenching ones — are
what make college football the institution it has been and will always be.
Friendships can grow distant as jobs and family steer us through one chapter of
life after another. But on fall Saturdays — especially here in the “American
south” as my dad liked to describe it — we have an easy excuse to catch up, to
drive more miles than gas prices say we should, and to endure the barbs (and
cheers) of those who choose different colors than ours. College football games —
and seasons — begin and end, as they must. But the friendships they solidify
will last beyond our lifetimes
Rocky Top. (And okay, just
this once: Roll Tide.)
