With deepest apologies to Clay Travis, a WAB Darksider tells stories about his children.
For a brief moment this weekend, I was visited by a strange feeling. I was relieved, instead of vaguely sad, that my late father, whose Auburn football letterman's jacket hangs proudly in my closet, was not around to watch the Thumb Iron Bowl with me. Why? Because I was on the road for this battle but not in Tuscaloosa. Rather, I found myself in Mooresville, NC at a youth soccer tournament. Yes, I was attending Daughter #1's (age fourteen and not one #badword#ing pic will any of you see) soccer tournament the weekend of the Auburn v. Alabama game. The things we do for our children(when the game is not at Jordan-Hare). I am pretty sure that Dad, despite his extraordinary parenting skills (that were apparently wasted upon me) and deep sense of self-sacrifice with regard to his children, would have beaten me senseless for running the risk of putting futbol ahead of the Thumb Iron Bowl. At the very least, the ribbing would have been robust and without a statute of limitations.
The good news was that this risk was entirely theoretical. Luckily, the tournament schedule called for games in the late morning and at night (7:30) for Daughter #1's team, so I was not required to tell my beloved first born that I would not be at her game. And she was relieved of any obligation to fake an injury that would render her unable to play between, say, 3:30 PM and 7 PM EST. I mention that Fortuna has favored us with the soccer schedule while on the way to North Carolina in the car. We silently exchange high fives (an act made nearly impossible without the existence of thumbs).
Our Saturday, plus or minus an embellishment or two, goes like this.
1. Breakfast at the beautiful SpringHill Suites by Marriott on Exit 33, Interstate 77 in Mooresville. Ho hum. I notice several soccer parents and kids sporting Michigan and Ohio State t-shirts and sweatshirts. I remove my windshirt to reveal my Auburn t-shirt. Someone asks me if Auburn is playing today. I don't think he was kidding.
2. Off to Lake Norman High School for late morning/early afternoon game. Daughter's team is victorious. She plays well. I am happy. It is now 2 hours 15 minutes to Thumb Iron Bowl kickoff. I begin to feel nervous.
3. Lunch at a small place in nearby Davidson, NC. Daughter #1 is pleased with the fare of pizza and salad with college students all about. I begin to feel nervous for completely different reasons.
4. We briefly tour Davidson College's lovely campus. Daughter #1 reminds me three times in five minutes that we should not stay too long and risk any game time. Our tour is only slightly more substantial than the Griswold family's tour of the Grand Canyon in National Lampoon's Vacation.
5. After a stop at the lovely Food Lion at Exit 33 for game snacks and refreshments, we return to the thin walls of the SpringHill Suites. I encounter another soccer father from Daughter #1's team ("Soccer Dad") in the hotel lobby. He asks me if I am going to watch the OSU v. Michigan game. He is kidding. I predict I will see 10 plays of that game while nervously channel changing during the Thumb Iron Bowl. He asks if I mind if he comes by the room to watch the Auburn game with Daughter #1 and me. I say by all means, adding that the adult variety beverages I have purchased at the Food Lion probably cannot be completely consumed by one adult.
6. I return to the room. Daughter #1 questions my sanity because I have agreed to allow someone who has never watched me watch an Auburn game join us for the Thumb Iron Bowl: "Dad, everyone thinks you are this nice, rational and relaxed person. Why let them know you are a raving maniac?" I am outwardly dismissive of this comment. Deep down, however, the truth hurts.
7. Thirty minutes to kickoff. I turn on the "pretty cool" (Daughter#1's assessment) flat screen TV furnished by the SpringHill Suites. I note the disparity in quality of the television vis a vis the other furnishings and the drywall. I am pleased that the franchise chose not to skimp on the audio/visual enterrtainment side of the ledger. After checking in on Friday night, the first thing I did upon arriving in the room was to locate the CBS affiliate, so there would be no fretful searching around for the proper channel the next day. I am inwardly congratulating myself on this small, but important, bit of stress management. There is a commercial playing as we tune in. I have a moment of terror while imagining that the Thumb Iron Bowl has been pre-empted by some Duke or UNC basketball highlights show. The commercial seems like a long one.
8. The horror. The local CBS affiliate is showing the Linclon Financial ACC game of the week between UNC and NC State. Coincidentally, the color commentator is Dave Archer, former Falcons QB. Can one not get a job on the Lincoln Financial broadcasts if not named Dave? It is 3:03 PM and there are approximately 8 minutes remaining in the 4th quarter. UNC leads 16-9. NC State has the ball and has a modest drive underway. I call the front desk and make the attendant check the local paper to assure me that this affiliate intends to air the Auburn game. She assures me that it does. She does not know what happens if the ACC game runs into the 3:30 slot. I do. I begin alternately fuming about the prospect of watching untold overtimes between the Tar Heels and Wolf Pack(while missing the Thumb Iron Bowl) and madly rooting for UNC's defense. Daughter #1 asks me why I want UNC to win. I reply that this seems the most sensible way to avoid overtime and missing plays in the Thumb Iron Bowl. For the next 25 minutes, UNC has two additional and vociferous fans.
9. UNC forces a fumble and returns it for a touchdown to go up 23-9. A corner of the second floor of the SpringHill Suites erupts in cheers.
10. Tar Heels win. It's 3:28 PM EST. A sigh of relief and one prayer answered! Still, half of me is expecting to see Roy Williams discussing the outlook for the 06-07 hoops season when the local CBS affiliate returns from commercial. Daughter #1 notes that my face is particularly red and again laments the prospect of Soccer Dad joining us. I am pleased that the mini-frig is keeping the adult beverages so cold and pop open my second one.
11. The commercial break ends. Vern Lundquist's face fills the screen. For the first, and only, time in my life, I consider this a beautiful sight.
12. Tristan Davis returns to the 33 and gets his mask yanked by two Bama coverage guys. While stomping up and down, I am rather loudly pointing out the injustice of Bama being penalized a measley five yards for endangering the SEC's finest returner's vertabrae. Daughter #1 says she is glad Soccer Dad has not happened by and hopes that there is no one in the room beneath us.
13. We punt, and Bama comes roaring down the field. I am lamenting our defense. When John Parker Wilson Jingleheimer Schmidt breaks his 26 yard run, I am again behaving badly. Daughter #1 makes a similar comment to paragraph 12, above. This is barely out of her mouth before she starts screaming at our defense when D.J Hall's end around takes the Tide to the AU 3. The apple does not fall far from the tree.
14. Auburn's defense is taunting the Bama sideline to go for it on 4th and goal from just outside the 1. Somewhere, Sobertiger does not approve. I want Bama to kick the FG. Shula does not disappoint.
15. A cloud of gloom descends on our "suite." The offense looks like they have brought the UGA game with them.
16. Quentin Groves!!! While 05 will always be Merry Sackmas, it was like coming down the stairs on Christmas to a tree full of toys from Santa. The 06 sacks with their accompanying turnovers are more like very thoughtful and practical gifts from loved ones. The former more fun; the latter more meaningful. After the Kenny Irons TD, I am literally dancing and high fiving with Daughter #1. I am now glad Soccer Dad has not shown. Plus, that means more beer for me.
17. We are driving heroically from our own 1 to deliver the dagger. As the drive begins to stall, I articulate my worst fear that we will fail to score and that Bama will get one before half (and they are receiving the second half kick off!). Daughter #1 scolds me for creating bad mojo. When Nikita Stover scores from 52 yards on the third and 10 slant just before half, she blames me. Tubs and Gary Danielson do not blame me. I agree with them. Daughter #1 is unconvinced.
18. Second half: Bama receives. Jimmy Johns starts the series at QB. We visit violence upon him on consecutive plays. I am feeling good and then --three straight third down conversions. I am in a lather. Touchdown Bama. WTF!!!??? No review. Thank God for two things: 1) Shula chasing points (2 point conversion no good again -- FG wins); 2) Soccer Dad apparently forgot our room number. I am officially a mess. Daughter #1 is not far behind.
19. Another stalled drive by AU. The good news is that we do appear capable of completing forward passes. This could come in handy later.
20. The phone rings. Soccer coach wants the girls at the field an hour early. Field is 30 minutes away, and the team needs to leave in 15 minutes. Surprisingly, Daughter #1 does not complain. "This is making me too nervous, Daddy." I make a deal with another parent to drive Daughter #1 to the field, so I can continue watching the Thumb Iron Bowl. Daughter #1 and I agree on hand signals so I can communicate the final score to her. We both agree that I will be able to make the start of her game.
21. As Hobbes and TJ can attest, I love passing to the fullback. That defenses are typically unable to cover the fullback on flares and wheel routes is a fundamental law of football taught me by the aforementioned late father, himself a former fullback. Cox passes to Carl Stewart to the Tide 18and I am smiling. Come on Auburn.
22. A false start and two horrendous plays later it is third and 15. I am hoping for a draw play to shorten the field goal attempt and to remove the ball from the dreaded left hash that seems to torment John Vaughn. A brief nightmare image of the 1984 Auburn FG attempt at the end of the Bama game enters my consciousness. Maybe another beer?
23. Prechae Rodriguez. Cool catch by a guy with a cool name. Step away from the mini-frig.
24. Frankly, I am happy neither Daughter #1 nor Soccer Dad were there to watch the display of nervousness, paranoia, and bargaining with higher power(s) that marked my fourth quarter behavior. The exchange of fumbles was hard on the old ticker. On the bright side, however, I am grateful for the order of the exchange.
25. Shula's time management and decision making on fourth and 15 from the AU 19 with 5 minutes and change remaining cements his place as IJR's favorite Bama coach ever. Bill Curry is a mere piker by comparison.
26. One last stand, please. David Irons catches a ball thrown to him??!!! Mr. "All Thumbs" secures the Thumb Iron Bowl. Is this a great country or what? War Damn Eagle.
27. I arrive at the soccer field 5 minutes before the start of Daughter #1's game. I give the agreed upon hand signals for the score. From across the field, I get a smile and a "thumbs up." It occurs to me that perhaps Dad would give me a break on this one after all, if only because of that moment. Maybe, maybe not?
28. Driving home on Sunday, I am talking to Daughter #2, who remained in Atlanta. She is telling me about her own soccer games and various other weekend activities. We are getting to the end of the conversation when she says, "Oh yeah, Dad, one other thing. War Eagle!"
And now back to your regularly scheduled programming.
