Alabama’s football team lost to LSU yesterday. And we lost to South Carolina a few weeks ago — the same South Carolina Gamecocks who just laid an egg against Arkansas. There is no consolation. We have zero chance at a national, conference, or divisional championship. The best we can hope for is to win the state championship — by beating Auburn
And we hate Auburn. The thought of losing to Auburn and seeing them in the national championship game is unbearable to the typical Alabama fan, you know. I know it’s not healthy to feel that way. I know that Auburn isn’t evil or the incarnation of Satan. I know that. But it’s hard to shake a lifetime of tradition and conditioning. You see, the natural order of things is that Alabama wins national championships — and Auburn does not. And I really don’t want my paradigm shifted. I like my paradigm.
But Auburn gets to be in the BCS championship game if they just beat Georgia, Alabama, and the winner of the SEC eastern division — a division all six teams are trying desperately to lose. From here, Auburn’s path to national championship glory looks very easy. We look terrible. Auburn looks unstoppable.
And Oregon looks pretty good — amazing really — but that’s against Pac 10, West Coast competition. I think Auburn beats them by two touchdowns. Alabama, meanwhile, will miss the Sugar Bowl, too (LSU is a shoe in), playing in some forgettable bowl in Florida. I forget its name and don’t care to look it up.
I’m inconsolable. And, yes, I have a son at Auburn. And, no, that doesn’t make it any easier. Now I have to live with whole thing. Life has lost all meaning. There is no hope. There is no balm in Tampa or wherever we wind up playing. Oh, the pain of dashed high expectations!
You know, life was better when we were lousy and struggling to get better. Then any victory was wonderful and the losses were expected and didn’t hurt so much. Watching the team get better and occasionally win unexpectedly was great, great fun! But, oh, the misery of losing unexpectedly!
Thank goodness, basketball season is here! We were lousy last year. Winning just 50% of our games would be ecstasy! Going to the NCAAs would be beyond our wildest dreams! Oh, the bliss of low expectations. Maybe God really does bless those who mourn. Maybe God really does cause the last to be first. Maybe you need the lousy years to appreciate the good ones. But it’s hard being philosophical when Auburn is about waltz into a national championship.
It could be worse, you could be a Longhorn.
If it’s any consolation, Tennessee objectively stinks.
Enjoy:
Casey at the Bat
by Ernest Lawrence Thayer
The outlook wasn't brilliant for the Mudville nine that day:
The score stood four to two, with but one inning more to play,
And then when Cooney died at first, and Barrows did the same,
A pall-like silence fell upon the patrons of the game.
A straggling few got up to go in deep despair. The rest
Clung to the hope which springs eternal in the human breast;
They thought, "If only Casey could but get a whack at that–
We'd put up even money now, with Casey at the bat."
But Flynn preceded Casey, as did also Jimmy Blake,
And the former was a hoodoo, while the latter was a cake;
So upon that stricken multitude grim melancholy sat,
For there seemed but little chance of Casey getting to the bat.
But Flynn let drive a single, to the wonderment of all,
And Blake, the much despisèd, tore the cover off the ball;
And when the dust had lifted, and men saw what had occurred,
There was Jimmy safe at second and Flynn a-hugging third.
Then from five thousand throats and more there rose a lusty yell;
It rumbled through the valley, it rattled in the dell;
It pounded on the mountain and recoiled upon the flat,
For Casey, mighty Casey, was advancing to the bat.
There was ease in Casey's manner as he stepped into his place;
There was pride in Casey's bearing and a smile lit Casey's face.
And when, responding to the cheers, he lightly doffed his hat,
No stranger in the crowd could doubt 'twas Casey at the bat.
Ten thousand eyes were on him as he rubbed his hands with dirt;
Five thousand tongues applauded when he wiped them on his shirt;
Then while the writhing pitcher ground the ball into his hip,
Defiance flashed in Casey's eye, a sneer curled Casey's lip.
And now the leather-covered sphere came hurtling through the air,
And Casey stood a-watching it in haughty grandeur there.
Close by the sturdy batsman the ball unheeded sped–
"That ain't my style," said Casey. "Strike one!" the umpire said.
From the benches, black with people, there went up a muffled roar,
Like the beating of the storm-waves on a stern and distant shore;
"Kill him! Kill the umpire!" shouted someone on the stand;
And it's likely they'd have killed him had not Casey raised his hand.
With a smile of Christian charity great Casey's visage shone;
He stilled the rising tumult; he bade the game go on;
He signaled to the pitcher, and once more the dun sphere flew;
But Casey still ignored it and the umpire said, "Strike two!"
"Fraud!" cried the maddened thousands, and echo answered "Fraud!"
But one scornful look from Casey and the audience was awed.
They saw his face grow stern and cold, they saw his muscles strain,
And they knew that Casey wouldn't let that ball go by again.
The sneer is gone from Casey's lip, his teeth are clenched in hate,
He pounds with cruel violence his bat upon the plate;
And now the pitcher holds the ball, and now he lets it go,
And now the air is shattered by the force of Casey's blow.
Oh, somewhere in this favoured land the sun is shining bright,
The band is playing somewhere, and somewhere hearts are light;
And somewhere men are laughing, and somewhere children shout,
But there is no joy in Mudville–mighty Casey has struck out.
I feel your pain, Jay. I, too, have one at Auburn and while I know I ought to pull for them now that Bama doesn't have a chance for another national title, it's hard, nearly impossible to do so. People say you pull for the team where your money goes, but that's just not so!! RTR (always and forever!).
If it's any consolation, Tennessee objectively stinks.
Perhaps this will bring a smile to a broken Alabama heart (stop me if you've heard this):
At the annual Tennessee/Auburn game, two men bumped into each other in the concession line. Seeing the "AUBURN" and "UT" hats on each other's heads, the UT man asked, "Say. man. what's them there letters on yore hat mean?"
The Auburn man replied, "It stands for 'Alabama Usually Beats Us Red Necks.' Hey, what's that 'UT' stand for?"
The reply: "Us, Too."
Be thankful your not a Michigan fan. Great offense but has lost any concept of defense. Well that what we get for not hiring a Michigan man.
well, as one who went to auburn, i have to say that i see this quite differently than you do, jay… on two levels.
1) there's the obvious — i'm happy where you're sad. especially when two years ago i wasn't so thrilled about losing tuberville and bringing in a 5-19 chizik.
2) but i also don't see that "Auburn is about waltz into a national championship." i see us still having to play 3 of the toughest games of our season. i know we "control our own destiny," but i don't think we're anywhere close to saying we've got a spot in the n.c. in our back pockets. now, if i'm honest, i do have to admit we're a shoe-in for winning the west — surely we'll beat georgia OR alabama. but i don't feel comfortable saying much beyond that…