A House Divided
The University of Alabama has plenty of devotees — it doesn’t need anymore. I won’t argue it, but I’m no sidewalk fan, I actually went there. Although I have to admit that the term “graduate” is a bit too strong for what I achieved.
Most of my family, though, went to Ole Miss. We have roots in the Delta and one branch of the family settled in Oxford because it was just so much damn fun. Every year the family would all pile into the car and make the drive to my parent’s alma mater for Homecoming. This was long before The Grove became an exercise in Absurdist Theater, so the whole thing had a feel of a second Thanksgiving. And its rituals were every bit a sacred as the higher holidays.
There was Dad’s retelling of the famous Ole Miss/LSU game on the drive down that was like reading The Night Before Christmas before the internet was invented. It happened every year, and like the famous poem, we didn’t really believe him. It wasn’t that he was lying; we just couldn’t see how the story was possibly real. First of all, we knew that two SEC teams couldn’t play for the National Championship anymore than a complete stranger will give you presents without demanding money or trying to molest you. And this was the 70’s and 80’s — Ole Miss wasn’t winning the National Championship anymore than reindeer could fly. The Rebels were on everyone’s Homecoming schedule and their Homecoming game — invariably against Vanderbilt — was a fair match up.
When my older brother, being the second child, broke rank and went to Alabama, the family took note. “Oh you know, he’s a loose cannon…he wrecks cars and drinks too much and now he’s going to school in Alabama. Perhaps he’s on drugs.” The truth was less dramatic — as the second child he was going anyplace but the family school. I followed my rebelling older brother to Tuscaloosa while my twin went Old School. These were dark days for the Rebels — despite beating Bama my freshman year at our own Homecoming (which serves me right for making assumptions) My dad adopted a practical approach. I reckon he was tired of being disappointed in his alma mater and his sons — so he embraced the new school.
But times change, and the Rebels are having a good run these days. More than that, they can now truthfully say, “It’s been years since we lost to Alabama.” I’d rather them not say this.
So what does a house divided do on weekends when your alma mater plays a team that is woven into your genetics? Do you hope for a victory but not a bloodbath? Or do you take the opposite tack and growl for absolute submission? We’re brothers, we’ve got each other’s back. On the other hand, from when your brother has your back you are always in danger of a fearsome and savage wedgie– metaphorical or otherwise. This was the same house where five brothers invented a good-natured but excessively violent hybrid of rugby, basketball and boxing called, aptly, “Kill Ball.”
Which of course is what makes SEC football what it is for the fans — we’re all interrelated. We’re family, but doesn’t mean we don’t want o see each other strung up at least once a year. What’s more, we get a side of smack-talk with our turkey this Thursday.
