If this post were just a couple pop-up pictures...
But since true misery is best conveyed through words...
Rare Road Reds vs Fake juice
The thrill of leaving the car flags at full mast while parked on streets in non-706 area codes. The smell of cooked meat in enemy territory. The sound of the Redcoats against a backdrop filled with less glorious colors. The vision of the cheerleaders waving that enormous Power G flag in the other team’s endzone.
The white jerseys on the backs of the Dawgs as they sprint out onto the field.
Not this week. With CBSSports, SEC Network, and even more referees with pockets full of Targeting gift cards coming into town, the Vanderbilt Commodores have alternate home uniforms hung in their lockers.
They’re cute aren't they? Even though they're whitish. Maybe a light gray. Probably both whitish and grayish.
Goddamit! Why in the holy hell am I typing about colors? Just the thought puts me back on a MARTA train with Nama and a cooler full of bourbon, ready to play an orange and blue team not named florida in Halloween costumes that Nike designed.
Yes, Clem is right. BIGTEAMlittleme. I need to let it go. But not before making a phone call to get some clarification.
/opens Nashville area phone book
/hums some tunes over Ryman’s digits
/doesn’t find a number for greater Nashville Port Authority
/or Navy base
/figures there’s someone smart at the end of a Vanderbilt line
Anchored down in deep words
“Hello, Vanderbilt University intramural sports, geological engineering, Greek literature, athletic chancelloric office, and Museum of Railroading. How may I assist you this morning?”
“Yes. We're driving up from Athens for the game this weekend. Do I need to ask permission to tailgate?”
“I...I don’t think I follow.”
“I heard this summer that y’all don’t have to ask permission. I’m just wondering if visitors have to ask permission??”
“Please, call me Bernie.”
“Uh, Bernie, tailgating is allowed in designated spots.”
“Great! Glad I called in advance. Now...is it imperative that we anchor down, or is a parking brake sufficient?”
“Is this the gentleman that called a couple years ago?”
“No, that was Tyler. The wife and I will be driving a car into Nashville, not a boat. Plus, we prefer not to be anchored when we hunker. If you catch my drift.”
“I’m afraid that I do not and I have someone on the other line, so…”
“Oh, that’s my wife. She has lots of opinions on this Deep Water idea. Can you go into greater, you know, depth?”
“Let me transfer you to our PR department…”
“Vanderbilt University graduate admissions, plant services, divinity school, public relations, and Museum of the Absurdly Rich and also Al Gore, where our word for the day is sesquipedalianism. With what directive may I divert your telephonic communication?”
“Oh! Word games! Lemme go first...What’s the first thing you think of when I say Deep Water?!?”
“Yes! Me too. I’m all ‘Excuse me, but what the hell does that even mean Comrade’ and then you’re all like ‘But check out these uniforms!’...Oh wait, bigger words that make you look smarter...and then you’re all like ‘However please examine our improved accouterments!”
“No, please. Bernie.”
“Bernie? Are you related to Tyler?”
“If you mean are he and I analogous, yes. ‘Commit to the G Dawg!” But if you intend to question our familial relations, no. We are brothers from different mothers. Now, back to deep water. My wife would like to know it we’ll need ear plugs?”
“Uh, our band is not that loud sir, um Bernie.”
“Band? No, not the Kansas State thing. And wouldn’t the reference there be ‘Hot Water’? I’m referring to the thematic backdrop y’all’re rolling out for Uncle Verne and Company this weekend.”
“It’s just a uniform sir.”
“Just a uniform? Wow. How very unpretentious of you.”
Okay, let us bow our heads. Dear Little Baby Jesus, please let the referees’ arms fall as limp as James Franklin during a Cialis commercial tomorrow. And also let the WolfPack exact some revenge for the way our great American Robbie Caldwell was treated. And we pray their quarterbacker’s insurance premium is not past due.