Beat 'Bama!

It's "Bama Week" here at the northern end of southern nowhere, and the Colonel is fighting the urge to allow a smidgen of fanatical optimism to take root in a psyche long-bruised by my Rebels' historical inability to sweep back the Tide. The last time I attended an Ole Miss win over Alabama was thirty-three years ago--the '76 season. The man in the hound's tooth hat was still coaching. On that glorious evening in Jackson, Bear Bryant's birthday, we hung on for an improbable 10-7 victory that was the unforgettable highlight of an otherwise very forgettable season. We stayed in the stands for nearly an hour after the game alternately singing "Happy Birthday" to the Bear and chanting "We Beat Bama!" until that delirious ditty lost all meaning and our voices lost all timber. It was so sweet.

This coming Saturday afternoon, the Rebel faithful will straggle into the stands after partying hard in the Grove ("We might lose games, but we ain't never lost a party!") and unite in our hatred (it's a hard word, but accurate) of Alabama. The odds, and the officials, are always against us when we take the field against 'Bama. But, before the boys in blue line up for the kick-off, we'll allow our hopes to rise high as we holler "Hotty Toddy." It'll likely be all down hill from there on--and most of the student section will be back in the Grove partying before the third quarter ends.

But, maybe... just maybe, the stars will align like the St. Andrew's Cross in our banned banner. Just maybe, our overfed kids will find a way to stop theirs. Just maybe, lightning will strike. Just maybe, I'll be happy as well as hoarse on Sunday morning. Maybe, just maybe... But, probably not.

I know, I know; call me "Mr. Negative." But you know I'm right...

To paraphrase Marse Robert: "It is good that Rebel football is so horrible, otherwise I would grow too fond of it."