Wenesday 7:14 a.m.

Thoughts from the West Texas observatory – Georgia

photo by Scott Filmer

1992. We haven’t done anything all day. Pat Dye is in his last Georgia game but no one knows it. I’m 13. I’m in the West Stands. We’re down 14-10. It’s dark. It’s cold. No timeouts. We’re on, like, our own one. Suddenly, God boards Stan White’s manhood and he becomes a machine. Stan steers us down the field like some crazy-ass angel. It’s obvious we’re going to win. The Bulldogs are puddling into little girls, and the fans scream for what’s to come. Victory. 100 years. Eagles are flying overhead and collapsing in orgasm. We scream for the moment. Holy holy holy! We’re down to their goal line! Georgia is butter! They are women! We cannot be stopped. Twelve, eleven, ten… everyone’s lined up, we just have to hike it, we’re going to punch it in, we’re going to punch it in, we’re going to punch…

The Georgia Bulldogs, women that they are, are sitting on the ball.

Squatting.

They will not get up. Our guy, Bostic I guess, or maybe it was even Stan himself, on some glorious keeper, or maybe I think we bobbled the snap and Stan falls on it and the refs say “Auburn ball” and Stan has shot up like a vampire and is back on the line waiting for the refs to place it. It’s all just a formality. Go ahead throw your hands up and put the points on the board. Wait, why is the clock still running. Dad… Dad… the clock… we’re ready… why… are… they….

Stan is beside himself. He’s pleading with the refs to do their jobs. But there the Dawgs sit, lounging like Parisians … per the instruction of their “coach” … until the clock hits zero. Then they spring up like bacon’s on the stove in the locker room. They all sprint off the field, all our guys are still in our stances, pinching themselves. Stan is freaking out – I love you Stan. Dye is freaking out – I love you, Coach. The stadium itself is literally booing. Bloody arrows of puberty are screaming from my throat and into the soft necks of the refs. But there the game ends. 14-10.

“Dad,” I said, in tears, “I thought this was America.”

We walked the eight or so miles back to the car – Dad was always obsessed with parking, like, hours away. We drove back to Grandmama’s. I retreated to the soft glow of my grandfather’s office. I got out a piece of paper, I put it in his type-writer, and – fire with fire – preceded to describe the scene I had witnessed.

“Dear NCAA,” it began… “tonight I saw money change hands…”

Dad told me not to mail it. I can’t remember what I did.

***

Years later, out to eat, I see Housel for the second time in like, a week. First at Ruby Tuesdays, now Niffers. And so for the second time in a week, I scrawl a War Eagle or something on a napkin, hand it to a waitress, and try to stalk a friendship out of him. Maybe I even buy him a beer. He waves and he comes over. His wife, he says, is genuinely creeped out. But he’s not, War Eagle. It’s the week of the 2005 Georgia game. I tell him the story.

“I was there David, I saw it, I had good seats, West side, I had the perspective.”

He smiles.

“I think those feelings come from the perspective of your Auburn heart,” he says, poking my chest. “And mine, too.”

***

That’s what I was thinking about yesterday. As my gut turned. As my throat swelled. As my legs couldn’t get comfortable. My Auburn heart hurt. My Auburn heart hurts. We were supposed to win that game. Everyone saw it and felt it and saw it and knows it.

To the Auburner comments:

* Way to bring the refs, Georgia.

* Need some extra holiday cash? Officiate a Georgia game.

* We were lucky in the first half because Georgia dominated us but got no points. Georgia was lucky in the second half because the refs ran out of flags so they decided it was ok to play however they wanted.

* PLEASE someone find out who ref #11 was today and let me know.
post it on here.
give us his personal information.
i just want to send him a fruit basket or something.
and by fruit basket i simply mean hate mail and other various things representing how much i hate him and want him to die… whoops.

* For the first time in a LONG time I truly feel that the Refs cost us the game. I am normally not that kind of fan but damnit….

photo by Scott Filmer

[see more photos from the game here…]

A week after that Niffers thing, Housel replied to my “nice seeing you” e-mail.

“Did you really see money change hands?”

***

Bama will be number one going into the Iron Bowl.

We are going to bludgeon them.

War Eagle.

It’s Pronounced JORDAN: AU vs. UGA, 1974

It’s the national anthem. Note the Auburn hands. Note the Georgia.

Auburn won. Nothing smells worse than a wet pinko. War Eagle.

Thoughts from the West Texas (and I-20) observatory: Tennessee-Martin

I heard Kenny dip into that neat-o Hollywood butter-style – “Brad Lester gets the hand-off and gets maybe a yard” – and that’s when it hit me.

The last time someone was doing a play-by-play for me over the phone was the Vanderbilt game. I was in east Texas, en route to hand off the fam in Shreveport. Dad was at the Holiday Inn Express watching the second most glorious first quarter of Auburn football this year. He was describing it through the phone and we were feeling good. I got to the hotel. The feeling didn’t last.

“Kenny,” I said, not knowing I was on the phone with the once-voice of the Auburn High School Baby Tigers, a team that ran the table this year and could have given the big boys a run for their money, say the experts, “have you called games before?”

Yeah, it was right around there when it really sank in. I was back in east Texas, I-20, the South slowly reappearing, on my way to retrieve the fam at the same hotel.

A whole month I’d been by myself. A whole month starved of Auburn victory.

It got surreal, man. Everytime I called, Kenny would describe some horrible nightmare. The text messages were flaming barbs of disaster. “This is not good.”

Kenny is good. He made Kodi sound exactly like this picture he took of him.

We held on. We won. War Eagle.

Might I add that my week whatever prediction, which leads into my Amen Corner, etc. prediction, was all but dead on:

We struggle against UT-Martin but eventually win by like, three touchdowns… Bama makes it out of Baton Rouge…

We struggled but eventually won by like, two and half touchdowns (from what I understand we just sat on the ball rather than score the last one) and Bama barely made it out of Baton Rouge…

Next:

We beat Georgia with turnovers… [Bama] pulls a Bama win against Miss. St. with some fluke, but get banged up.

Let’s do it, men. Carpe Diem. Flex. Suck in your gut. And ladies, gather ye rosebuds. Let’s all bow are heads. 11:30. Raycom. I love the smell of napalm in the morning.

Thoughts from the West Texas observatory – Ole Miss

Can’t really remember much of anything. Proud the way we came out in the second half. I think Kodi is improving, despite the interceptions. Here’s how the rest of the season is going to go down, in case you were wondering.

We struggle against UT-Martin but eventually win by like, three touchdowns. We beat Georgia with turnovers. Bama makes it out of Baton Rouge. They pull a Bama win against Miss. St. with some fluke, but get banged up. We go into Tuscaloosa and beat them by 10 or more. Bama loses their last three. They get split in two by Tebow in the SEC championship game and go on to whatever bowl and lose in a squeaker. We go on to whatever bowl and win in a really good game that gets a lot of media coverage for some insane play. ’08 gets pressed into the books as 9-5.

Tuberville – I can’t even believe I’m bringing it up – goes nowhere. I’ll be honest. In the midst of the Franklin trauma, I caught myself in a one second day dream about what it might be like with…

But he’s owned up to it and I think he’s learned from it. Honestly, I think he could have two seasons like this and come back for a third. I think he’s earned it. I love him. Sue me.

Finally, remember the streaking thing? TWER’s most popular post ever? Well, there’s a separate blog for that sort of thing now. Spread the word.

War Eagle.

Halloween Mystery

8 p.m. Friday night. What’d we win? It can’t just be Halloween.

I looked on the official site, don’t see anything, but the perps seem to be uniformed… volleyball maybe? No trick or treaters have come by and nope they totally just did. Jason mask, jiminy…  anway, still lonely, afraid I’m going to get robbed. The Toomer’s Cam, it helps… and it’s nice to see the white ribbon, no matter what it’s there…

31-23, Auburn. War Eagle.