I think I mentioned that sometimes, Chew on This posts would not be about food. They would be about other “food for thought” topics. (Did I forget to mention that? Oh well. Now you know.) This is one of those posts.
I had a hard Saturday as a Tide fan in Oxford. When the game clock hit zero, and I knew the score on the board was the score for the books, my heart fell. It sunk deeper still when I saw fellow Bama fans taking the loss just as hard. The stadium erupted with cheers while a sea of red shakers shook in unison, filling my field of vision with the wrong color. Then they stormed the field. As I headed out, I watched little boys in Eli Manning jerseys skipping ahead of me. I eavesdropped on old men giddily chattering like old ladies. “This hasn’t happened since…” I looked around, and the entire campus was glowing, not with the fuzzy fading yellow of twilight, but pure joy. I knew my Ole Miss husband somewhere on the other side of the Grove was glowing too. My devastation downgraded to disappointment.
Walking up University toward the Square in search of food, I was ahead of these (crazy) happy fellas. They hauled their piece of the goal post all the way to the Confederate monument in the Square, hoisted it up to lean against it, yelled congratulations and Hotty Toddy to each other, and then, “What do we do with it now? To the Grove!" So they headed back from whence they came. And I smiled. And gave them a polite but fully felt "Roll Tide!"
Faulkner wrote, "The past is never dead. It's not even past." He's right. It's impossible to take the shine off of Alabama football. Even Saturday's game can't dull the sparkle. But one sun-soaked afternoon in early October added a glint to Ole Miss' football story, one that doesn't take away from ours, one they'll hold onto forever.