It’s that time again, late summer in the South. This part of the year is marked by three things: the start of school, late afternoon thunderstorms and FOOTBALL! As the Crepe Myrtles bloom, colleges start their practices and, before you know it, the season of tailgating and face painting is upon us.
Unless you grew up in the midwest, you will never fully appreciate the love affair that southerners have with college football. Being from New Jersey, I didn’t understand the magnitude of the obsession until I married a native Southerner. Not only is my husband an avid college football fan but he also buys season tickets to Georgia Tech Football. Therefore, for me, the season officially begins when he emails me the Tech football schedule.
Although I’m not personally a sports fan, I’ve always been surrounded by them. As such, I have noticed that not all parts of the country are as addicted to college football as southerners. In the northeast, for example, people seem to be more interested in pro-sports. You’ve never seen a more passionate gridiron debate than between a Jets’ fan and a Giants’ fan. However, you won’t see people walking around the streets of Manhattan with red and white faces yelling “Go Rutgers” or displaying car flags that read “Go SUNY New Paltz!” It is just not done.
By contrast, and let this be a lesson, if you plan to stay in the South more than five years, you had better take sides. An Auburn fan is distinctly different from an Alabama fan that wouldn’t be caught dead dining with a Georgia fan or boating with a Florida fan. And, gosh darn it, you had better not mix them up.
My husband wouldn’t have even considered marrying me if I had worn the colors of Tech’s rival, Georgia. Luckily, on our first date, I was wearing all black. Since I had no prior collegiate commitments, it worked out.
Throughout the entire year, Southerners publicly and tastefully display their “colors.” During the offseason, you can’t drive 2 miles without seeing a college emblem on a car or house. In the northeast, such signs and stickers would indicate a student’s attendance or a parents’ financial commitment. In the South, it is all about the football. In fact, often, the flag-toting individual never even attended the college-of-choice; nor did his wife, his children, his parents, his siblings or his second cousin once-removed. Everyone, regardless of educational background, must have an allegiance.
Then August rolls around. Everything changes as the rhythmic sounds of high school marching bands fill the evening air; waking up the great Southern college football fan machine. The sound of drums is a primal call to relinquish all attempts at subtly, refinement and discretion; to forget about family ties and old friendships; and to ready oneself for battle. As September arrives, the gauntlets are thrown down, the nylon banners are hung and stage is set.
When that first Saturday arrives, every home, car and person is wildly adorned with team spirit. The state of South Carolina paints paw prints on the highway near Clemson. Krispy Kreme dyes their frosting in hometown colors. Even retail stores get involved by proudly displaying a school’s name on their flashing neon signs. “Cigarettes, Coca Cola and Tampons on sale this week only. Go Dawgs!!”
In local schools, Friday’s are often designated as “Team Spirit” day. While this may sound like fun and games, it is really the day that separates the Hound Dogs from the Bull Dogs. It is the day for every man, women and child to publicly stand up and take a side. When the moment arrives, the halls are littered with team shirts, collegiate-wear pants, scarves, sweaters and socks. As if that wasn’t enough, Clemson Tigers hang from ear lobes, Yellow Jackets dance in Scrunciis, Tennessee Hound Dogs flop around on sandals and Uga hangs proudly from necks and wrists.
On game day itself, these dedicated teachers tear out of the parking lot with the sound of the school bell still hanging in the afternoon air. It is crucial to be at the stadium early Saturday morning in order to allow for effective and satisfying game-day tailgating.
Don’t believe for a second that this insanity is just for Southern gents. Most of these teachers are women. In fact, just a few years ago, I attended a Tennessee Football game with my husband’s family. My father-in-law is a Tennessee season ticket holder. As 107,000 orange-clad fans broke into “Rocky Top,” I looked over at my Mother-in-law and, much to my surprise, this otherwise sophisticated, respectable women was singing “Rocky Top, You’ll Always Be, Home Sweet Home to Me” and clapping her hands as fiercely as the freshmen down below.
Because the South is often referred to as Bible Belt, one would assume that Sunday is the most sacred day of the week. This may be the case during most of the year but not in the fall. During this season, Saturday is the holy day. In fact, the weekend can get quite spiritual when you have a “house divided.”
Off season friendships with rival fans may work well. However, personal relationships change during football season. Black and red doesn’t mix well with gold and navy. Dogs and gators don’t make good bedfellows. Gamecocks won’t be seen in the same living room with tigers. When you have a house-divided, true colors eventually do rise to the surface. To survive, many loved-ones must engage is meditation, personal introspection and spiritual reflection. Unfortunately, these individuals usually just find themselves in intense family debates over hot dogs garnished with a side of potato salad and profanity.
Southern college sports allegiances are undeniably a family affair. If dad is a Bama fan, so are his children. If mom went to Clemson, children wear tiger stripes. As for me, I don’t care. In fact, I’m not even invited to engage in any of it. When I do go to a game, I spend most of the time watching the fans and mascot or making sociological observations on religion, football and beer. That never goes over well when the home team is in the red zone with less than 2 minutes on the clock.
For better or worse, I have learned not to interfere with this sacred and time-honored tradition. While I may not fully embrace the football spirit by wearing a set of “GT” bangles, I do try to remain a good sport. Why? If I’m a enthusiastic during football season, my husband won’t complain too loudly when the local theater season opens and I walk around the house with a dramatic sweeping gait while singing “One Song, Glory.”
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