WAMFOM

2 A.M. is going to come early. That is all I could think. And I was right. The alarm was barely able to make it through the first ring, but not because it had woken me from visions of deep outs and bone crushing hits; no, the real reason was I wasn't asleep at all. The alarm in this case acted more as a gun shot to begin a race: on your mark, get set, Grove. Get up, it's Gameday. 

We met for the journey, showing off our Gameday signs (Roll Tears Roll was the theme) and everyone exchanged predictions.

21-10 Bama, given by a lifelong Rebel who admitted to being a realist

24-13- Ole Miss

21-17 Ole Miss

"We are going to win, I just feel it," I told everyone who would listen. 

We make it to Oxford, 4 in the morning, and there is nearly zero traffic. 

Everyone admits to expecting more people on the roads. Excitement builds at the thought of us getting near the front for the Gameday experience. 

We park on Chucky Mullins Drive and start the walk to the Grove. We make it in front of the Vaught before we see another soul. More accurately, we hear them first. The first "Hotty Toddy" of the day fills the cool Fall morning. 

We turn the corner to the edge of the Grove and see what we already knew was in store: a line, weaving its way down the Walk of Champions. Signs everywhere, a mass of people who had been there all night, the smell of Burboun rich in the air. 

The rest of the morning was a blur: we get in line and wait. You could feel the buzz of energy as more and more people filled the space around us. We make our way to the edge of the makeshift fence constructed between the fans and the Gameday set. A security worker gives us a tip: there are two sections, one in front of the ESPN stage that Samantha Ponder and David Pollack occupy and the main stage. If we stayed by the fence, they would let us in near the front of the ESPN stage. Done and done. 

We get in around 6:30, collect our hard hats, scream for the camera. Cooper Manning shows up 5 feet to my right for an ESPN camera shot. We exchange a Hotty Toddy, get a picture. More blur. The Gameday crew tells us what we want to hear and what we already know: most beautiful campus and best experience they have seen.  Katy Perry seems to be the only one who can feel the energy and makes her obligatory Ole Miss pick. 

More blur. Fried chicken, peach pie and Burboun is consumed. An hour until kickoff we make our way to the stadium. Lines are already formed, people practically begging for tickets outside. 

We get to our seats, 30 minutes till kick. I make an ominous prediction to Kayla: We are going to win. And when we do, I am storming the field.

We nearly break the opening kick and settle for a field goal. Our defese plays strong and gets us the ball back down 7-3 before halftime. Egregious missed call on a blatant facemask leads to a scoop and score for Bama. 14-7 and the air has been drained from the Vaught. Boos rain down on to the refs and the Bama players eat it up, asking for the boos to come down louder. 

I think to myself: the football gods will not be pleased with such a spectacle. 

I told Kayla that Freeze was going to give a motivational at halftime: overcoming adversity, turning the negative in to a positive. 

And verily, so it came to pass. 

We came out a different team: taking shots down field on offense, bowling over offensive lineman and generally wrecking things on defense. 

The Vaught was can't hear yourself think loud. We force the Tide in to two delay of games that were saved by sideline timeouts. We tie the game on a Bo Wallace laser. Alabama fumbles the ensuing kickoff: first down....OOOLLLLLEEE MMMIISSS. 

Dr. Bo is prepped and ready for surgery, he hits a touch pass in the end zone for the go ahead TD. 

We miss the extra point but are saved by a penalty. Bama cares nothing for penatlies and blocks the next one. 

The Fighting Sabans ball, down 6, 2 minutes to go. We are all Jacks sense of impending doom. 

Long completion to Amari Cooper under a minute to go. Bama is about to take a shot to the end zone. The snap, the ball is in the air....and we do what our defense does, we come up big with the INT in the endzone. Landsharks gonna Landshark. 

:38. 

Ball Game. 23-17. 

More blur. On to the field. State Troopers waving people on. 

Euphoria. Goal posts didn't stand a chance. 

Expectations. Agreeance that, improbably, this could be the year. 

After the game, amidst a never ending stream of Flim Flam's and Bim Bam's, a blues musician plays his saxophone. His bucket is overfull with $1's and $10's and $20's given by people caught up in the moment. 

And today, like everyday but especially today, I AM AN OLE MISS REBEL. 

 

Off to the races....

And on the first day of blogging, Wally said "Let there be two posts", and it was so.

I have been reading a good deal of essays  recently, several in Esquire, and have ran across numerous with titles like:

"How To Be a Man"
"75 Ways To Be a Better Man"
"75 Men To Emulate"

And I love these type articles. I really enjoy self improvement. But, they seem to put the concept of "manhood" in too much of a box. I have learned most of what I know of adulthood and the art of being a man by trial and error. I am going to put out some axioms that I have cobbled together on the subject of manhood. This is not all inclusive, obviously, but some of my thoughts on the subject.

And after this list, I will give my #1 can't miss most important aspect of manhood.



Have opinions on and be able to converse about these three things: Sports, Cars and History.

Learn the basic dynamics of economics. The stock market, inflation, interest. 

And politics. Be able to defend your personal political belief system in a coherent, non confrontational way.

Have 2-3 go to stories. Shenanigan stories from when you were 18-22, when you met Willie Nelson at a Huddle House at 3 in the morning...add in all the excitement and flair you and your listeners can stand. At parties, your friends will inevitably say "Hey, tell _____ about the time you _____" .

Also at least one joke. Not an overused joke, preferably one you can add a personal spin on.

And one magic/card trick.

Be able to instantly tell someone your favorites. Favorite book, album, movie, team, drink. Be decisive.

Have a passion. Music, golf, cooking, travel. 

In regards to women, there are really only two roads: love someone completely or never settle down. There is really no right/wrong when it comes to this. And sometimes when you think you are a "never settle down" type...bam. Love. 

But there is one hard and fast rule when it comes to manhood. Know and be yourself. Don't let anyone define you or what it means to be "a man". Men are meant to make their own way. Have your own set of ideals and know what works for you. 

The beginning of the end of the beginning

So....writing. I love writing. I have always loved writing. There is power in writing, in taking words and thoughts and ideas in your brain and putting them on paper (or, in this case, on screen). 

This is known, throughout the course of human existence.

I have, to put it bluntly and mildly, failed myself when it comes to writing. I will get started on a writing project, be it a blog or a short story or the beginning to my "great American novel" and, the next thing I know.....it lays dormant. Somewhere it gets lost in translating from my mind to a more lasting medium (such as the internet). 

And so, now....this. An attempt by me to get into a habit of writing. I have told myself that this is it, my last go 'round. That if I cannot stick with writing and find time for it now that I never will. That it will be something cast to the wayside.

Thus, without much ado,.....this blog. The last bastion of hope for the set of stories and some incoherent ramblings trapped in my mind to be freed.