I left a sprawling cotton plantation in the Heart of Dixie (known to the outside world as Alabama) in 1995. Life was gay there on the farm, but not in a San Francisco gay way. There were thousands of acres on our plantation where underpaid workers from exotic countries toiled as they sang gospel hymns about how great their lives were.
There were a few important things I learned growing up there. My papaw taught me that it was always easier to blame someone else for your problems than it is to take responsibility yourself. My daddy taught me how to stand up for what you believe is right, no matter how unpopular it is. And my community taught me crimson is the color of my blood, that Jesus Christ is our savior, but Alabama football is our king.
Tennessee and Alabama were SEC rivals before my dad was even thought about, way back in the 1930s. There’s been some great games with soon-to-to-be famous names who went on to play on Sundays. And there’s only one time in Alabama when orange is cool, and that is Halloween.
But lately my hatred of all things Vol Orange is subsiding like the banks of a muddied farm pond. Am I losing my Roll Tide Pride?
Several years ago I caught myself rooting for Coach Sumitt and her Lady Vols during the women’s NCAA basketball tournament. Now, with the men’s tournament freshly behind us, I once again caught myself committing a capital crime in crimson pride theology. I was pulling for the Tennessee Vols once again! Only difference this time it was was the guys instead of the gal Vols.
I quickly set up an appointment with my therapist, who is also my psychic. I scheduled confession with my priest even though I am not a Catholic, nor do I have a priest. Even after all my repentance, I caught myself whistling the first bar of “Rocky Top.” I immediately washed my mouth out with Lifebuoy soap and sang ‘Sweet Home Alabama,” in its entirety.
I hope that wards off the despicable desire to root for the Vols for a little while. And I can always take comfort that it was Volunteer basketball I was rooting for to win. But football. Football, my brothers and sisters, is a bird of another color and that color is crimson. And football season ain’t too far away.
