Shug Life braces for the winter of our discontent

I write this to brace us all for the nightmare to come. Also, I really, really, really feel for you readers living in Alabama right now. My heart goes out to you. Keep up the good fight!

I’m afraid that a lot of our fellow Tiger fans living outside the state may not understand what you Alabama residents are going through.

Just swinging down as far south as East Tennessee during my travels over the holidays, I witnessed the dirt-road alumni of the University of Alabama drawing attention to themselves in the Gatlinburg/Pigeon Forge area by way of a hounds-tooth festoonery of flags and stickers adorning their vehicles on the roadways. And most of these were Tennessee residents. It was enough to turn the stomach and rattle the soul. The bandwagon of crimson buffoonery is in high gear.

I cannot imagine how … well … EVERYTHING looks and sounds in Alabama right now. Your poor senses must be overwhelmed with the sights, sounds and, *sniff* ah yes, the smells of the Tide masses. (What is the average smell of the Bama fan? Parfum de Big Al?)

On the radio? Well, it looks like there are two songs “creatively” entitled “Roll Tide Roll” making the rounds.

Of course, I know about both songs because just about every story on the front page of al.com is devoted to the Tide.

Your television programming? Your average Tide fan is showing up in your average everyday “I tattoo my children news feature.

To the causal observer, they might assume that this is the Tide’s FIRST championship up for grabs. Nouveau riche much?

After the inevitable tonight, the parade of memorabilia will cascade upon our poor heads: collectible footballs, magazines, DVDs and what-not; special edition bric-a-brac; crimson whatsits; and do-hickeys that are Sabanized for your protection.

At one time, I considered myself lucky as I live in Maryland. A buffer of states keeps the crimson army away from me.

Or so it seemed. My safe harbor is being threatened.

My subscription to Sports Illustrated has been sullied. Two, count them, TWO covers with the Tide over a two-week period disturbed my comfortable and safe bubble. Daggers in the mailbox. Another such cover story is soon to follow.

Ice cream, Mandrake? Children's ice cream! ... That's the way your hard-core Commie works.

To me, the worst part is that the average Alabamian living outside its border (who in the past probably had no dog in the Bama vs. Auburn fight) are wrapping themselves in crimson in a misguided salute to their Southern roots. I don’t understand it.

Old friends and acquaintances on Facebook are constantly surprising me with their newfound love with Tide football. A recent development in their lives to be sure.

I will not watch the championship game. I’m not being a bad sport. I swear. I just can’t handle it. My stomach … my heart … cannot take one more bleat of “Yea Alabama.” I need a break from Nick Saban’s “cat that ate the canary” look of satisfaction.

Sadly, all that stands in the way of Alabama taking over the nation is a cruddy Texas Longhorns team. Is the rest of the nation ready for what we Auburn fans already know of the Tide and its peoples? The nation better root like hell for Texas to hold back the slack-jawed hordes.

In the upcoming months you can bet that Nick Saban will be with his team in the White House Rose Garden, shaking President Obama’s hand. How can I protest this event? Maybe I can hold a megaphone to my boombox and play “War Eagle” just on the other side of the fence. Our fight song’s rising, swelling notes of tiger-striped pride will drift through the garden and sully their perfect moment. In the back of their mind, they’ll know that the Tigers of Auburn will lying in wait, ready to meet them in Tuscaloosa in 2010. In the home of the enemy, the Tigers will do what they’ve always done best: knock the high and mighty off their pedestal.

Subscribe via RSS

Archives

ADVERTISEMENT

Sevenpixels Web Design