Digging through the clothes bag, I sort the few outfits I own. Look for something appropriately festive and distinctly un-red. Luckily Sandi told me last night to favor blues and orange as we’d clearly be cheering for Auburn today.
Riding in the backseat towards the stadium, I give up on trying to create a mental map. Just sit back and gawk. It’s not even 9am yet, but there are the streets are busy. The density of tents increases as we get closer and closer. Unloading from the car Jim starts to explain where the stadium is if we get separated, but I quickly interrupt him. Dude, I’d be totally lost without you all. I’m not letting you out of my site.
Marching towards our first tent stop for the morning, a small boy looks over lets out a war eagle. Without missing a beat I war eagle right back at him. Yesterday’s research and practice paying off already.
The next few hours are a blur of white tents and friendly people. Never before have I been offered so much free booze and food. After every introduction the grill master lifts the lid, shows off mounds of carefully seasoned and cooked meat. Not hot dogs or frozen burger patties mind you, but full racks of ribs, bacon wrapped venison, entire pheasants, and smokey pig parts. An empty hand is taken as a sign you need something and quickly remedied with a cold beer or bar-worthy mixed drink.
Sure to give me the full experience, Greg leads us over for the Tiger Walk – the moment where the football team walks down the corridor of fans into the stadium. Standing on the hill, I stare in awe. It’s a sea of people for as far as the eye can see. The crowd grows louder. Someone starts a cheer and fans near and far excitedly join in.
Greg looks at me, Can you imagine being a young 20-year-old kid walking through this crowd?
I can’t imagine walking through this as a 31-year-old adult. He laughs. I shrug. I’m completely serious.
Game about to start, we file into the stadium. Find our seats.
The eagle flies, the jets rumble overhead, the band plays, the stadium rumbles to life. The energy is palpable. The feeling of being surrounded by thousands of people with a common goal. There’s something special about a mob of strangers with a shared passion. A mass that might otherwise not have a single thing in common, becomes instantly bonded cheering for a ball to successfully cross into the end zone. Hearing a Roll Tide, I see a smattering of Alabama fans to my right, remember that we’re not all cheering for the same outcome.
Noticing that the stranger bond seems even stronger when there’s someone else to cheer against, I can’t help but wonder if there’s a way this energy could thrive off the field. If it’s possible to form a common goal without needing to have an other to bond against. For surely the moments we thrive as a collective, positive force exemplify the real power of humanity.
Snapping back to the present. I look at my seat mate and try out one of the lines Toni and Jim taught me yesterday, Man, these refs really aren’t gonna give it to us today. He nods, launches into a diatribe on officials, coaches and strategy. I grin, pleased that I seem to be holding my own in this foreign football-frenzied environment.
Ball launched, we jump to our feet. Clap, cheer, high five. Celebrate community, tradition and the innate desire to win. War eagle.
169 days down. Many to come.
