The fear and trepidation in Rebel Nation leading up to last weekend was palpable. We had the eyes of the world on our little burg as we prepared to host the first Soundbite Spout-off of the 2008 Presidential Election, and our men in red and blue prepared to wade into the Swamp and wrestle with the Gators. The town and campus had its street traffic restricted and our hopes for a win were minimized as well.
We barely had time to catch our breath following the off-again, on-again McCain stunt and the uneventful accomplishment of our part in the debate season, before we plunked down on our couches in front of our TVs and held our breath again as the nation prepared to watch the Florida juggernaut devour our pitiful Rebels. I held my own emotions in check on Friday evening and Saturday afternoon, guarding myself against the sure-to-come let-down. It didn't come. But, I'm not celebrating this morning and I've tried, as the caffeine races into my blood stream, to put my finger on the reason why.
It's a Mississippi thing to worry what the rest of the world thinks of us. Oh, we pretend not to care. We put on the proud face and hide our concern behind the gleaming columns of our picturesque facades. But, deep down in our hearts, like the mud at the bottom of our rivers, there is a viscous muck that traps our feet and holds our self-esteem down.
The glory of this weekend's wins will fade quickly. The attention of the world has already turned to the next debate and the widespread replays of the Rebel D's Tebow trounce will rapidly contract to the machines of the Rebel (ahem) Faithful. We will go back to worrying about what the world thinks of us, and they don't even know we exist.
Such is life here at the northern end of southern nowhere.