An ocean of crimson. An abstract of white. An intangible numbness of gridiron entitlement and pageantry.
No, these apparitions don’t appear to me by way of Saturday’s visit to Tuscaloosa, Alabama for the 81st Iron Bowl. These images resurface by way of my own childhood, when I was supplied these memories by my parents, both graduates of the University of Alabama. Aiding their game day contentment is my older brother, who also finds himself a rival of mine, by way of his choice to attend UA and my choice to attend Auburn.
I was raised on Alabama football, reared on the spirit and tradition of the Crimson Tide.
Growing up in Florida, my family was limited in their visits back to Tuscaloosa, but whenever the opportunities arose, my parents made the most of our trips back to their school, their meeting place, their home.
I first found myself in Tuscaloosa in the fall of 2011, when we made a trip back for the Crimson Tide’s season opener against Kent. St. The game was undoubtedly entertaining, however my parents made sure to center our visit around showing us campus, about the school they love, and passionately articulating the memories they made together.
My brothers and I spent the last few hours of the day tossing around a football on The Quad, allowing my youngest brother to fantasize that he was A.J. McCarron, whilst I settled for Trent Richardson. My parents chose to devote the waning moments in their stomping ground to relaxation, and reflection.
My parents are the greatest type of fans: Loyal to a fault, overzealous and passionate. And, they actually went to the school of the team they support! (Had to say it). They love everything Alabama, all its backgrounds, and all its sports. Now envision their misunderstanding when I chose "the cow college" (as most Alabama fans call it).
My Auburn story, as I like to think of it, is peculiar, but should also sound familiar. Granted my decision is the opposite of everything I ever knew, everything I ever grew up with. But like most, I came, I fell in love, and each succeeding visit, I didn’t want to leave. Auburn became encapsulating for me – I still can’t get enough of it.
Through eleven games of a fascinating and energizing regular season, I found myself at a crossroads I had subconsciously evaded. The Iron Bowl was looming. The day I didn’t realize I had feared. I grew up pulling against the school that I now loved.
Completely immersed in the Auburn spirit, there wasn’t a doubt in my mind I had made the right choice. I’ll never forget my first Iron Bowl experience, mainly because of the incredible memories I made with the Auburn family.
Waking up at 5 AM, bussing to Hoover, then to Tuscaloosa, then back home, I, along with the rest of the Auburn University Marching Band, shared laughter and excitement that added to the plethora of orange and blue tattoos that exist forever on our hearts.
I arrived on campus as an enemy. Donning navy and white, with the bold and bright AU at our backs, we began the trek to Bryant-Denny Stadium.
A typical Iron Bowl rookie might have looked around, taking in every part of their surroundings to add to the story they could tell. I, on the other hand, knew every building. I could not only tell you where we were as we walked to Bryant-Denny, but I could also provide you the insightful backstory and lore, courtesy of Mom and Dad.
The “trash talk” between fans of the Tigers and Tide is limited in a unique way when the big game arrives. Differing from an experience in Baton Rouge or Athens, you won’t get nearly as many nasty comments if you’re the visitor.
There’s too much at stake, a slandering of more than mild proportions could be used as blackmail against the speaker’s program, dubbing them “classless” or “trashy.” Nevertheless, the AUMB received quite a few "Roll Tides" in and around the stadium. If asked to give one back, the simplest reply was to explain that the use of four-letter words in uniform is prohibited.
The energy rose as the game clock neared kickoff time. It was addictive and almost tangible, the way all 100,000+ wore their spirit on their sleeve.
Past Daniel Carlson’s opening boot, the contest was a blur. I remember yelling louder than I ever had before, demanding a method to release the pride I felt as an Auburn Tiger. After our halftime performance, the men in the all-white began to tire and fade; the past month of injury and grievance unveiled. Yet, even as the fans in crimson cheered in jubilation at the conclusion, I felt a burst of ego well up in the Auburn faithful. We were proud of our boys, proud of our effort, proud of our school.
The trip back to the busses carried a slight enhancement of vulgarity from the Tide fans. I almost wanted to tell each one who I was, how I used to be on their side.
I wanted to explain how my conversion has been one of the best transformations of my life, and how I wished they could experience something so great in their own lives. I wanted to proclaim my love for Auburn, and address the contentment I used to have with Alabama. Maybe it was the slurred speech in their comments that pushed me to believe that wouldn’t have gone so well.
An exhausted bus ride home provided a tranquil space for reflection. Although the game itself hadn’t gone so well, my first Iron Bowl day was wonderful.
Packed with passion, pomp, and not so much peacefulness, it was an experience I will never forget. I had received my much-needed closure from the Capstone. Now, I am prepared for my next chapter of the greatest rivalry in sports. A year from now, I get to introduce my old friend to my new family.
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