|
Or: How I Stopped Worrying and Learned to Love the Two-Yard Out
If I made a movie of Auburn's 2003 season, I would consider this title, if for no other reason than to explain my attendance on Saturday night. Or at least create plausible deniability.
But I know the real reason I will be there is that I would not be anywhere else. No matter how atrocious our offensive game plan is, no matter how many passes our receivers drop, or easy field goals we miss, or third and forevers that are converted by the enemy, there is something that that requires that I be there to see it. Perhaps, I am genetically predisposed to have ringing ears and strained vocal chords throughout the month of November. Maybe, I just enjoy punishing myself watching this once promising bunch hurtle out of control.
I cannot explain it any more than I can deny it. I want to beat Bama. I don't care if we suck and they suck and all this suckage pulls me to the center of Ross Perot's giant NAFTA sucking sound. I want to beat Bama.
And I think we will. Nothing about this season makes sense, so why stop now? What is the most shocking, unexpected result imaginable? How's this? Auburn sticks to its strengths, allows its playmakers to make plays, has no turnovers, forces several, and flings Brodie Croyle around like a rag doll.
Auburn 28, Alabama 10.
Then, Tuberville steps down. Thus, the last two permanent hires at the head coaching position leave because of poor job performance despite having winning records against Bama. In a perverse way, that is satisfying. And miles from where we were during my formative years as a Tiger fan.
Auburn 28, Alabama 10.
And, if I am wrong, see you in February. Have a wonderful holiday season. War Damned Eagle!
IJR
|
