Half off, indeed…

Fear of a Toomer’s apocalypse is nothing new. In 1978, folks worried that downtown renovations would Updyke the tradition of rolling Toomer’s Corner to extinction (they’re taking away our power lines. What are we going to roll, the oaks or something?) So folks started having fun while the funnin’ was good. They rolled cops. And [...]

Now the Alabama White Bear has its own Patterson-Gimlin film.

What we know for sure is that it brought out the cameras. And hallelujah, the one belonging to Cecil Bridges had some Kodachrome in it. And if there’s anything that can give you a feel of what rolling wires and lines and anything but trees might be like, it’s these never before seen COLOR photos—the only we know of—of real people living just like we live: blue blue jeans, orange spray paint, taste the rainbow, kiss the dragon.

Auburn folk are forestry pros from way back, right? So why in the world did the dudes who planted the trees—and surely their prominent placement implies that their planters intended them to live long and prosper as objects of at least some reverence—decide on live oaks, a species whose less than ideal relationship with Auburn’s [...]

1991 wasn’t the best of years Auburn fans. Our first losing season in a decade was in the works; a traitorous, sanction-loving moon was in the 7th field house. But while the quality of football Auburn had cultivated in the late 80s was waning, by God, the low-fat, low-calorie ground beef its meat scientists had developed during that same time had arrived, and what it may have lacked in taste it made up for in pride.

At least a molecule of every future tear I cry will be born of the knowledge that THAT wasn’t made permanent.

That Auburn fans will eventually be rolling not trees at Toomer’s Corner but an “attractive intersection structure” made specifically for that purpose appears to be increasingly likely, like it or not. Here are six more examples of what rolling wires in the historic, orgiastic, Click-it-Or Ticket-less center of the Toomer’s Corner intersection looked like.

Ah, the ’50s, when if Alabamians wanted to root for a winning team, they had to root for Auburn… when the tiger at the Magic City’s brand new menagerie was named the Auburn Tiger and when the elephant was named “Miss Fancy.”

Maybe this is common knowledge—if it is, don’t tell us—but apparently feel-good semantics ruled the pre-overtime era of college football, at least when it came to games with a trophy at the end (or at least when it came to inscribing those trophies). Because if you look closely you’ll notice that, no, Auburn did NOT [...]