Eagle5 on Auburn

Based on intelligence reports of imminent threats from traveling Auburn Tiger fans, University of Tennessee head coach Lane Kiffin directed game day security to ban the visiting fan tradition known as the Tiger Walk.  Knoxville area residents and officials lavished praise on this rapid preemptive response by Kiffin to protect the citizenry of the Appalachian town.  Long time tailgater, Skooter Pickens, said with tearful eye, “My fambly is safe now, and it’s all because Coach Kiffin is tough on terrorism.  In 2004, them Aubies wuz rude to us, and made fun of our tooth, plus Ronnie Brown shoulda been flagged for unnecessary roughness on Jason Allen at the goal line.”

According to the Auburn University official athletics website, the road version of the Tiger Walk for the Tennessee game has been cancelled per the request of the University of Tennessee for “safety and security measures.”  Knoxville inhabitants, you can breathe a collective sigh of relief – your south end zone entrance is safe from flying shakers, Trooper Towels, and the deafening roar of 10,000 Auburn fans.   You are safe to tailgate again, free of such tyranny.  You can rest easy in the knowledge that your game day is kept safe by Knoxville’s finest, the Dreamsicle Kremlin, who have pledged an oath to eradicate all visiting fan spirit, cheers, and collegiate rowdiness.  Tennessee officials have indicated that opposing fans will be permitted limited use of the golf clap on game day, and in Neyland.

America, while you were distracted in your healthcare town hall rants, or your no taxation tea parties, a much graver thief of constitutional rights slipped in the back door.  I speak, of course, of the stripping of college football fan freedom to assemble and raise holy hell, and the inalienable right to trash talk.  Yes, even on the road in the SEC.  If you want to see a revolution of epic proportions, start messing with southerners’ game day traditions.

Not to fear, sports fans.  Reportedly, Lane Kiffin’s ill advised edict to ban opposing fan traditions at Neyland has been snuffed out by an “insider”.  Sources indicate that Kiffin’s supermodel wife, Layla, last seen sporting the Auburn Tiger version of orange (not the Home Depot or Dreamsicle orange) pouted to hubby that she was really looking forward to seeing what all the rage was about Tiger Walk, and all the Trooper hoopla.

Understandably no fan of marital celibacy, Kiffin relented.  A diplomatic compromise has been reached.  Game day officials will not make a stand when the Auburn faithful arrive to exercise their constitutional rights of assembly and free speech (which extends to the singing of the Auburn Fight Song, Bodda Getta, Two Bits, and shouts of “War Eagle”.)  Call it an Unofficial Official Tiger Walk, as traveling Auburn fans will assemble at the south end of Neyland at 5:30 EST.

In a foreign policy move, Auburn athletics officials are reviewing game day safety and security measures for future Tennessee visits to Jordan-Hare Stadium.  The following measures are under athletic department review:

1.  Ban on all water and Gatorade on the visiting team sideline (risk of drowning through ingestion by referees).

2.  Elimination of the visiting fan section in the corner of the north end zone (Vol fans could hurl themselves onto the playing field, injuring players, referees, or their own pep band).

3.  Ban on all visiting fan tailgating as the risk of physical confrontation with Vol fans is too great.  Vol fans will be allowed to tailgate in Phenix City, and will be bused in to Jordan-Hare, arriving by half time.  In this way, calm will be maintained in the stadium until the Auburn lead is prohibitive, at which point Vol fans can view the remaining carnage of the 2^nd half.

(Vol. IV, 2009, Auburn vs. Ball State, Jordan-Hare Stadium, 26 September, 2009)

Lo, didst the mountain men invade the Loveliest Village,  and as prophesied, “. . . the forces of nature didst converge upon the verdant plains, and gathering the strength of wind, fire and lightning, didst unleash the righteous anger of the gods upon all who wouldst defile the name of Auburn.”  stunned were these unwashed invaders at the ambush which was set, and the ferocity of the encounter.  For King Chizik and his warriors didst await, sword and spear sharpened, an army well fed and readied for the task.  No weakened, starved front lines were they now, as the curse of Otis the Unshaven had been lifted.  I say unto thee, great and mighty People of the Tiger, the word has gone forth unto our enemies, and in their dank, miserable dwellings doth fear furrow their brows, for the secret hath been revealed. 

Cometh last night unto our homeland an angel of truth, adorned in burnt orange and blue, and without a sound, didst the sight of her beckon all people of Auburn to gather, and in holy silence, listen.  And gathered there didst a hundred thousand strong stand before trees awash in the sacred tissue of conquest, as a voice didst boom forth from the heavens thusly:

“Listen, all who have ears.  I come in peace unto this holy land, a creation pleasing unto the gods.  I am the God of the Gridiron, maker of the proud warrior, and watcher in the storm of battle.  No arrow flies, nor spear thrust without my knowing, and my favor rests with the righteous and honorable, who seek not the gold of the deceitful, as in West Vance.  Nor do they purchase as if a slave, the mercenary warrior, and in their conquests win neither a people’s freedom nor a victor’s honor, for tarnished is their crown, and evil is their purpose.  I sent unto thee a test, six nights thenceforth, to judge thy worthiness.  For Lo, is the strongest steel forged in fire, and must the conqueror ride through storm and darkness to seize the victor’s crown.  A great Flood didst I send at battle’s start, releasing the baptismal waters of the Almighty upon this, most sacred and beloved of the Gridiron Gods.  And this was the test . . . would the People of the Plains be found resolute, and stand firm at their army’s side, voices rising up in deafening roar, and shakers of spirit flying?  Ye have answered with the  thundering roar of the Tiger, and the Gods hath smiled, and found thee worthy as a People!  Ye march now unrelenting, as prophesied by the Manly One, in a holy crusade, King Chizik bearing before ye the sacred banner of the victor!  Ye marcheth not alone, but with the Angel of the righteous before ye!”

And verily, didst the orange and blue minions stand firm, awash in the baptismal flood of the victor, and didst no single soul be seen departing as battle commenced!  The shame and fear of defeat hath been swept away in the great flood, as were the enemy mountain men, who were attacked and swarmed by a fast and furious assault.  And deep in the Tiger’s Den now hath been emblazoned upon the plush carpet of the conqueror these four words of battle brilliance. 

Lo, didst the victory Towel of Trooper circle wildly, and many chest bumps of joy encircle our great army!  A million strong watchers of the gridiron didst see, and most believe, but all were served notice of the return of the Eagle of War upon the southern battlefield. 

Evil and dark is the Dwarf King of West Vance, and dishonorable, loathing any who wouldst battle honorably, and earn the praise of the righteous victor.

Seething in envy of King Chizik’s rising power, didst the Dark Dwarf summon his assassin, the frail and balding one, Paul of the FineScums, and his weasel companion, Goat Boy Karle.  Seeking to halt the relentless march of King Chizik’s forces, didst they purveyeth forth the great lie amid the toothless and mindless masses.  Shouting loudly to all who wouldst buy the big lie, didst they slander the holy name of the Trooper, who hath fired the hearth of Tiger courage, and fueled the adrenalin of battle.

But verily, didst the People of the Plains rise up a million strong, and storm the Bastille of the Mediot camp, lopping off the heads of their vile leaders.  And then, didst King Chizik seize the vile assassins, and require of each the naked march through the streets of crimpson mud, also known as Bammerham.  And the god of Shug didst smile.

Cometh now, one day henceforth, no test, but a mere warrior’s drill, and a polishing of the battle plan for the holy crusade into the land of Neyland.  For the army of the Ball State, devoid of the victor’s crown, hath no marksmen nor able warrior.  And Lo, only one Letterman hath they fielded in their short and unmemorable history, and his name is David. 

I shall not waste the mighty voice of prophesy over this mild skirmish, nor ask thy prayer and supplication before this weak and unworthy foe, for their defeat is certain.  We shall flood upon the battlefield our youngest and untested warriors, and shall rest the grizzled veteran for the first test of the road.

The People of the dreamsicle orange, also known as Vols in tears, hath traveled into the Swamp, and were found unworthy.  And yet they froth at the mouth, and swill their victory moonshine, slobbering to all who wouldst hear, “Victory!  Our Thirteen unto their Twenty Three!”  For Lo, this forehead protruding band of barefoot Appalachians know not the operations of addition, and subtraction.  Yet we shall instruct them in its science, and light up the Knoxburg night with the malatoff cocktail of Malzahn, eight days henceforth.

Marcheth on, King Chizik!  Battle four approacheth, and our enemy shall be no match.  Four nights we battle, and four shall be our conquests!   The victory grog shall spill freely, cheer wenches shall cheer, dance maidens dance, and children sing in tribute to all which is beautiful, honorable, and highest in the land which knows no equal!

Amen!

Manly Tiger

Auburn Tigers  51    Fighting Lettermans  0

(Vol. III, 2009, Auburn vs. West Virginia, Jordan-Hare Stadium, 19 September, 2009)

And it came to pass, in the year of Tiger redemption, two thousand and nine, that the forces of nature didst converge upon the verdant plains, and gathering the strength of wind, fire and lightning, didst unleash the righteous anger of the gods upon all who wouldst defile the name of Auburn.  Oh, incendiary flame of aerial assault and burst of blinding speed, hurl upon our enemies the Malatoff cocktail of Malzahn!

Lo, didst the Fire of Gus raineth down upon the red zone of dogly defense, and before the joyful eyes of the holy, were the enemy hounds incinerated.  And Lo, hath the secret been revealed, as prophesied.  Once blinded by a cloud of three yard dust, do we see; once deep in the sleep of the scoreless, hath our army awakened.  Unchained now is the Tiger from his twelve month slumber, and the beast must feed.  The flesh of the unworthy dog invader has but whet his appetite, and he stalks now a larger prey which shall sate his growling stomach. 

For Lo, even now marcheth upon our homeland a black lunged band of inbred mountain men, unwashed and wicked, dishonorable, vile and unwelcoming to the weary traveler who wouldst visit their land.  This people dwelleth underground, digging and rooting for lumps of coal to fire their primitive stoves, and it was from the belly of this land of the protruding forehead that was birthed the evil beast whose reign of terror plagues the southern wasteland – the dwarf lord of West Vance, SaBear.  A strange and destructive lot is this brood, for legend holds that upon battle conquest, they draw from their humble one room dwellings their sole possession, a tattered, soot-covered couch, and there on their primitive streets of mud, set it afire in a bonfire of the boorish!

Toxic is the soil of their mountain land, branchless their family tree, mutant their offspring, and glacially slow the law of Darwin to work its will.  The nature loving troubadour, John of the Denvers, didst purveyeth the lyrical lie in song of this ghastly land, which to this day is bellowed by the mountain morons, “Almost heaven . . .“  What cruel fate shall these simpletons face, one day henceforth.  They shall march eight thousand strong in hope of conquest into the glittering gold paved streets of God’s land, sweet Loveliest of all villages, where their bleary eyes shall be blinded by the beauty of all surroundings.  Verily, for the first time in their short, brutish lives shall they behold all which is beautiful, honorable, and highest in the great food chain of mankind.  Women, at once graceful and stunning, their shoulders adorned with hair of blonde, brown, or auburn, as if flowing upon the shoulders of an archangel.  Children, perfectly conceived, obedient, wise and strong, spirited.  Warriors, as honorable in character as they are unrelenting in battle, prepared to do what they were trained to do; what they were bred to do; what they were born to do – defend this land and march unto conquest.  And a sky of brilliant blue whose hue blends with the fiery sunset of orange as a sign from the gods where their favor doth lie.  Almost heaven?  And Lo, shall the mountain people cry in lamentation, THIS is heaven!  From our dark mountain shall we take exile, and not return, for we have been blinded by the beauty of the promised land! 

Fools!  Thy mutant species of ignorance displeases the gridiron gods, and they behold in horror the ugliness which stains the streets of fair Auburn.   Hear now the shriek of the angel of truth, who hath commissioned King Chizik to rid the wasteland of this blight, Oh wayward people of the mountain holes.  

And striding boldly from the shade of the great Oak of Toomer didst King Chizik raise the holy sword of conquest aloft, and spaketh thusly:  “Oh Eagle of War, who flies high above this great Land of the Holy, and surveys the approaching prey, return unto me full accounting of the enemy strength, that we may lay an ambush of unparalleled blood and defeat!   I call upon every able man and woman of good Auburn, every subject of this kingdom, to assemble one day henceforth, and line the streets of Donahue!  Your shouts of battle resolve shall pierce the warm evening air and work our warriors into an invincible frenzy, and Lo, shall they enter the arena of Dye and carry out the plan we have laid.  And all who watch from their lairs of deceit and dark, smelly caves of evil, shall see, and believe.  The Day is coming, soon and very soon, of Tiger conquest.  Rise up!   Ready your self, and unto thy face etch the resolve of the victor!”

And Lo, amid the disillusion of discovery shall the mountain man’s hope of conquest be smashed upon the rocks of reality, as if a wooden dinghy lured by the sirens.  Planning for battle against the army of two thousand and eight, shall they face the shock and awe of a replenished foe, whose weapons of war grow by the day, and whose battle plan is sent from the minds of the gods who hath looked upon us in mercy.  Before the bloody panorama of slain mountain men shall riseth up the eardrum bursting shouts and the deafening roar of a people intent on vengeance. 

A holy crusade of the People of the Plains shall march unrelenting, King Chizik bearing before us the sacred banner of the victor, its emblazoned symbol the interlocking A and U, which shall strike terror in the hearts of the tyrants of the southern battlefield.  And Lo, shall our warriors march ever stronger, and shall the voices of a million strong righteous from this holy land push them onward unto conquest certain.  And westward from this fair land shall the pulse quicken, and the whistles in their graveyard grow unsteady as the drumbeat of the deadly Tiger beats rhythmically, and as one heartbeat.

And before the lopped off heads of a hundred mountain men, shall King Chizik declare a day of rejoicing, and shall victory grog be swilled, cheer-wenches cheer, and dance-maidens dance, sweet smoke of the victor riseth up, and children toss tissue long into the clear, cool night.

Amen.

Manly Tiger

Auburn Tigers   38    West Virginia Mountaineers  24

The Head Game of Fan Base Excellence

Is there anything worse than a fellow football fan (much less enemy fan) telling you how you should feel about your team?  While the Auburn Spirit is a palpable, real, and a distinctly Auburn phenomenon that we all understand at a near spiritual level, as a fan base, it hardly equates to irrational preseason exuberance, with a few notable exceptions like 2003.  Certainly not at the genetically mutant level to which our in-state rival has elevated koolaid consumption, declaring an inevitable national championship each August.  If it were not so obnoxious to bear, an SEC fan could nearly admire the crimson koolaid drinker’s childlike faith, teetering as it does so amusingly between slobbery reminiscence, baseless declaration, cognitive dissonance, and utter unintelligence.  It is an immutable law of nature in the Bammer “nation” and indeed, a requirement of card carrying membership.  Objective analysts need not apply to the Red Elephant Club.

However, alumni and fans who matriculate from institutions of actual higher learning like Auburn University understand that what separates we humans from the animal kingdom is rational thought.  And so, we are torn each spring and summer between the sweet inspiration of pure belief as fans, or rugged realism that simply does not tolerate such fanciful longing.  It’s the classic internal struggle between the factions of gloom and sunshine which comprise the Auburn family.  But the question which haunts me at this pregnant moment in our young season of hope is this: can we as a fan base become an x factor that affects the actual season?  As there is a reality of team chemistry and psychology, might there be a fan base chemistry and psychology that influences outcomes?  Has a college football team ever been helped or hurt by fan psychology?  Methinks so . . .

If you are an Auburn football fan, by now following two blowout victories, you have dealt with a potpourri of fans who are self-appointed psychotherapists, offering you sage wisdom on how you should feel about the 2009 Auburn Tigers.  Therein is the fun of football banter at the office and local watering hole in the Autumns of the deep south.  Depending on how the particular fan is hardwired emotionally, and what his or her agenda may be, you are either told that you should be excited and optimistic, or cautious and skeptical.

So, listen up Dr. Phils of the football world, I am made of the sturdier stuff of fan psychology.  It was forged in a nine-year span of elementary school ridicule during the Barfield drought.  I kept the faith, hoped, and the football gods eventually rewarded me with the arrival of Patrick Fain Dye and Vincent Bo Jackson.  A one year “fluke” horrific season like 2008 does not begin to shake my Auburn psyche.  It was but a non-fatal sucker punch to the mouth in the bar room brawl of football fandom, as I spit blood on the sawdust floor, and muttered, “That the best you got, football gods? Come ‘ere, I got somethin’ for you.”

Still, for the fan with a shorter memory, the 2008 season left a lingering post-traumatic fan disorder that calls for indefinite skepticism today, despite the alluring temptation of back to back flirtations with 600 yards of total offense (that is not a typo).

Just over a year ago, the death spiral was underway, and in the perfect storm of coaching dissension, player mismanagement, and leadership collapse, no AU fan could see how or when it would end.  And as is the enemy’s standard operating procedure, we were reminded by the crimson unwashed and their media henchmen of our eternal doom (a big lie we had heard before).  A coaching change was ushered in amid the lingering sting of defeat and humiliation.  Among most fans, initially, no scenario was too negative to be credible, and any scenario incorporating an element of optimism was dismissed as Pollyanna.

There was an element of truth in this, of course: nothing was impossible.  Gene Chizik’s record as a head coach at perennial loser Iowa State could be a predictor of his inability at a big-time program like Auburn.  Following such a dismal period in 2008, lots of bad things seemed possible, but that does not mean they were going to happen.  In times of crisis, fans – and too often, Auburn fans – fail to make that distinction.  Our enemies portend more of the same, doom, incompetence, and defeat.  Rinse and repeat.  And make no mistake, there is a strategic purpose to the enemy’s prophesies of our doom – if it proliferates airport speeches to our new coach that “. . . we want a leader, not a loser!”  The brand is damaged before the product is unveiled.

In the summer of 2003, no story of our stacked talent, and imminent championship, was too positive to be believed.  We all recall the misery of Nallsminger that followed.  But in the summer of 2009, as new Auburn head football coach Gene Chizik quietly readied his team for his inaugural season, it seemed as if very few stories about the team were too negative to be believed.  Following the beliefs of the herd plays into the enemy’s hands, and gets you killed in team and fan psychology.  Skepticism would have been very useful in 2003; but optimism, or at least hopefulness, would have been helpful in this year’s preseason.  Without forecasting wins and losses, optimism for at least vast improvement was clearly justified we now know.

Skepticism and pessimism aren’t synonymous.  Skepticism calls for pessimism when optimism is excessive.  But it also calls for optimism when pessimism is excessive!  The negative story may have looked appealing, but it’s the positive story – which few believed – which holds the greatest potential for a fan base.  If we are incorrectly optimistic, the consequence is merely dealing with unexpected defeat.  But if we are incorrectly pessimistic, the consequence can be a toxic air of gloom that damages recruiting, and empty Jordan-Hare seats displayed on national television.  And god knows to a man, every player and coach will tell you that a jacked up fan base is the magic potion to championship mojo.

In dealing with each new season - with the future - we must think about two things: what might happen, and the probability of it happening.

And so it went, with pessimism feeding on itself.  Last spring, AU fans or observers who dared to point to strengths such as the arrival of a high octane coaching staff were generally beaten down by the thundering herd of pessimists, or at a minimum told it would take three years.  And with a degree of justification – 2008 was just that epic as a failure, as both team and coaches found new ways to display bungling with each passing week.

Possible?  After the hiring of Gene Chizik, Jordan-Hare stadium could have been swallowed up by the earth in a seismic shift of the earth plates, with scientists discovering later that the San Andreas Fault had an as yet undetected line into Lee County, Alabama.  Auburn could have slid into further disarray as a team, and opened the 2009 season with back to back upset losses, and negative offensive yardage.

This just in – neither has occurred.  Two games in – and only two – one thing is radiantly clear: rumors of the Auburn Tigers’ demise were greatly exaggerated.  Drink a deep gulp of the Auburn Spirit, negative nancies.  It is perfectly rational to proudly declare the breathtaking team chemistry that is obvious without going giddy like a crimson koolaider.  And if you are of the sturdier fan psychology, and are watching closely (which can be done on the AU football reality show, Auburn Every Day), you have seen glimpses.  Coach Gene Chizik is displaying the qualities of a champion.  His players universally love him after but one spring and summer, and by all evidence, will run through a wall for him, and for the assistants he assembled.  He choreographed a remarkable resolution of the quarterback controversy, managing with his own evil genius, Gus Malzahn, to have created an equal number of smiles and on the field results from both Kodi Burns and Chris Todd.  The fan base is stirred to a near frenzy.  Careful and skeptical, sure, but delightfully upbeat about the future as recruits we only dreamed about getting on campus are well within Chizik’s reach by next February.  None of this guarantees a win this Saturday against a solid West Virginia team, but the probabilities are growing.  I, for one, have no intention of betting against this coaching staff’s future success. 

Sitting as we are now, on the precipice of a revenge game on a national stage, it may be time to follow the lead of the man with the backward ball cap, Trooper Taylor.  Let it all hang out.  Leave doubt and restraint for the couch potatoes who stayed home on game day.  Act as if ye believe, and belief will be given unto ye.  Come to think of it, sounds like what football fandom is all about in the first place.

Not long after Coach Chizik’s arrival at Auburn, I had the privilege of meeting and hosting he and his lovely wife, Jonna, at a charitable event.  At some point, I told Jonna how excited we were to have Coach Chizik back at Auburn.  She stopped, stared confidently at me, turned and pointed at Gene twenty paces away, looked back at me, and said with a steely glance, “He’s the real deal.”  It was hardly the scripted, inauthentic line of a coach’s wife – it was the declaration of a truth held by the woman who knows the Auburn head football coach better than anyone on this good earth. 

Mrs. Chizik, I believe.  And besides, the probabilities are growing weekly that you are dead on.

(Vol. II, 2009, Auburn vs. Missisloppi State, Jordan-Hare Stadium, 12 September, 2009)

Oh, joyous snowstorm of Tissue, we welcome thy return upon the streets of the righteous!  And Lo, hath the season of wailing and plagues taken swift exit from the Loveliest of Villages, this oasis amid a wasteland of trailer dwelling toothless crimson knecks.  

Here, on this consecrated plot of fertile earth reside again beauty and honor, and the heartbeat of the champion who shall not rest until his mighty hand seizes only the highest of crowns.

First battle, two thousand and nine.  The trumpet of victory was sounded to all who wouldst hear, and understand.  King Chizik wields a mighty sword, and though the angels of justice and right are his guide, he rides upon the great stallion of death to all who wouldst dare invade the lair of the Tiger.   A swarm of pesky bulldogs bowlegged into this arena, six nights thenceforth, boldly proclaiming as didst many false prophets and blithering soothsayers, of their imminent conquest of this land.   Entering the battlefield, and surveying the enemy strength, didst King Chizik stride unto midfield, draw his sword, and raising it high, proclaim loudly: “People of Auburn, young and old, the day of defeat ends here!  I give unto thee a sign – an Eagle, proud and fearless in flight, and with a pure white face, shall enter the battlefield and fly untouched by enemy arrow.  She bringeth unto our army the gift of the gridiron gods – vision, strength, and invincibility.  Raise thine eyes unto the heavens, see, and believe.  And we shall march relentlessly unto our cause, the death of all who wouldst dishonor this land, and dare to challenge us on this soil.”

And as the great King foretold, didst the flight of the eagle commence.  hypnotic in its grace and foreboding unto the enemy in its meaning, accompanied as it was by a deafening roar of a million strong faithful.  Once downtrodden and shamed, their cause was now sacred,  and their crusade now protected on all flanks by the God of the righteous. 

And Lo, was the enemy found unworthy, and their eyes gaping wide in horror as the reality of doom surrounded as if a swarm of locusts.  From left and right, forward and rear, beneath and above didst our warriors attack without conscience, and outnumber the tiny band of bulldogs in unfair fight.   Great was the plan our King didst lay, and before the larynx raging minions ‘neath the star-lit sky, didst our skilled and strong warriors work the plan without flaw.  First, a pounding assault on the front lines, continuing without rest or resistance as the enemy weakened.  And at the appointed time, the aerial assault, blessed and lethal in its design!  Our marksman didst draw back, and release the arrow of death in perfect form into the heart and lung of the enemy, who was felled with but a whimper.  At battle’s end, were an equal enemy number slain by sword and by arrow, by ground assault and by air.  And on that day didst the myth of the weakened Tiger die.  Cheering and mirth returneth, long into the sweet Auburn night.

But battle rages on, and King Chizik resteth not, nor do his Lords of Battle and resolute warriors.  Shall there be no end to this plague of puppies, Oh gods of the gridiron?  Is the beastly, over-bred Bulldog not slaughtered for the good of natural selection?

For Lo, marcheth now from the west a familiar and unimpressive foe.  A band of lawless, illiterate, wild dogs who calleth themselves Bullies, and who dance before battle in mockery of their foe; their dogly peoples banging bovine bells that mute the sweet sounds of sword, spear, club and death.   They are  unholy mutants, a desecration unto the sacred field of battle where honor is bestowed.  They must be put down, as were the whimpering pack of cajun pups in battle one. 

And lo, one day henceforth, shall the full strength of King Chizik’s army be unleashed as if a beast upon the unready foe, and shall death be unfurled upon the new dogly Battle Lord, Mullen, a mercenary of King Meyer’s Spread, who is but a fraud. 

Ye shall behold one after another wooly bully bludgeoned, or trampled by the Bull of Death.  And Lo, shall our marksman Todd draw from his quiver four lethal arrows and fire into the Bully underbelly.  And the arrows will bear the names Darvin, Mario, Terrell, and D-Lo.  With great ease shall the pugnosers be slain, and with the lawless band overwhelmed, shall King Chizik march amid wild cheering to mid-battlefield, speaking thusly: 

Amid the hopeful orange and blue sky now boometh again a voice from the heavens, “Oh, King Chizik, and good People of the Tiger, hear us now.  You are a good, strong, and righteous people, and we smile to see the brave deeds of your warriors, for they have forever cleansed the battlefields of an overbred, unworthy tribe.” 

And on that day, shall scribes pen, “Against a panorama of orange minions, and blue skies, the wooly dog was slain amidst the singing of good people far and wide.  The Tiger warriors stomped a mudhole upon the dog of Heinz57, and proceeded then to marcheth the mudhole dry.  On that day, the football gods smiled, and a new chapter in battle planning was added to the sacred book of Lombardi, with the enscribing of but one name:  Malzahn.” 

And as is the custom of the good People of the Tiger, victory grog swilled, cheer-wenches cheered, dance-maidens danced, and tissue tossed long into the clear, cool night.  And King Chizik didst declare but one day of rest, to prepare for the onslaught of a boorish band of mountain men, whose evil deeds of one year thenceforth shall be avenged. 

Amen.

Manly Tiger

Auburn Tigers  41   Missisloppi State  13

(Vol. I, 2009, Auburn vs. La Tech, 5 Sep 2009)

And Lo, didst the apocalyptic winds of change blow upon our land, in the year of no joy, two thousand and eight.  Verily, could our anguish but be measured, and our calamity be laid with it in the scales, they would outweigh the sands of the sea.  A dread curse didst descend on our homeland, delivered as a dark deed by Otis the Unshaven, infiltrator from the land of Troy.  Offensive indeed was his treasonous plot, emaciating our front lines, his diet of doom sapping their battle strength.  Division ensued, warriors turned brother against brother, and confusion reigned.  Once a feared battering ram ground force, were our warriors reduced to a band of bobbing meerkats. 

From within didst panic surround King Tubs, scatter his generals, and the noose of defeat tighten at the throat.  And having uncovered the venomous plot of Otis the Unshaven, didst King Tubs summon the foul conspirator, and lop off his head.  Late didst Tubs act, for the battle raged on, and our wounded warriors were felled.  Defeat didst visit the Plains, and tissueless the Corner of Toomer, even as evil-doers swilled Atlantan grog.  In the wake of such slaughter are hailed generals exiled, and didst the reign of King Tubs end.  Departed now in honor is the good King, with blessings, his name enscribed upon the sacred tablets of Tiger lore. 

People of the Loveliest Village, who seek all which is honorable, and beautiful, and highest, heed this prophesy, revealed unto me from on high. 

Returned now to the dungeon of doom – reviled, and mocked, we shall swallow the scorn of the soothsayers, and it shall become the drink of our battle rage.  Arising from the grave, we shall spit the scorn back in their face.  Oh, hunger of the champion, and resolve of the conquering warrior, ye shall smile upon the humbled, and lift the fallen warrior.  And Lo, we shall arise now  stronger, our enemies unsuspecting.  

By the blood of the Tiger is a new King anointed, and his worthiness in battle proven.  No stranger unto our land is he, and his love of the orange and blue without blemish.  He speaketh not with hot air, nor trumpet his greatness with a loud mouth, for of Auburn is this man.  But amongst the Conquerors who lift high the hardware, his battle skill is known. 

And verily, his deeds of war surpass the Dwarf King of West Vance, who has never, nor shall he, wage an unblemished campaign of war.  He is but a blithering blowhard, slain violently by a tiny band of mormons when last didst he battle.  On the southern wastelands shall the Dwarf King fall, once, twice, thrice, and yet again, before the bell sounds battle’s end three months henceforth.  And Lo, shall he flee in disgrace, fugitive mercenary, the coin of gold his sole quest.

Yet unvanquished didst King Chizik battle, five years thenceforth on the Field of Dye, two thousand and four, at King Tubs’ right hand.  And then didst he wear the conqueror’s crown in two thousand and five.  Twenty and Six battles didst he lead, twenty and six didst he conquer.  and Lo, on his right hand shineth the gold band of the Conqueror.

He has journeyed the earth’s four corners, gathering worthy battle generals, and unto King Chizik hath they pledged the Sacred Oath of the Tiger.  Knighted are they, and fearless in their sacred quest.  Next, didst they ride under cover of dark, and prowl the badlands in search of the big Tiger – a name given only unto the most trained and dread warrior.  Swift.  Strong.  Relentless.  Feared.  Unto our once depleted numbers hath been added lethal marksmen, brute defenders, and aerial attackers who are fleet as the wind.   King Chizik has but begun . . . six months henceforth the ink of the pen shall flow freely, and an unrivaled army enlist in our service.  They shall form the phalanx of Rocker, an impenetrable force, and unleash an assault both lethal and swift. 

And there, ‘neath the shadow of Samford, didst the clock strike midnight, and King Chizik stride forth, flanked by his generals, as glad shouts of triumph rose up.

“Hail, King Chizik!   Hail!”  And the gathering throng was roused, and the thunderous the crescendo, “Hail, King Chizik, Hail!  Return us to Glory!  Cover in white these ancient oaks!”  And stepping forward amid the gathering throng, assembled before the Arena of Dye, didst the new King speak thusly:

“Stand tall, good people of Auburn!  Ye have been tested, and shall our resolve grow stronger in the fire.  The falsehood of failure, whose steely, dark hue doth draw the gloomy eye, but poisoneth he who would drink of its cup, is lifted now!  Proud and honorably hath King Tubs served, and shall he be welcome in this Land.  He hath passed unto me the torch, and it shall burn white hot, as if a Kiln which shall forge the strongest brick wall.  And thus shall we defend this land.  Nor shall we take a prisoner, for war is hell, and if any invader darest plant foot on this soil, we shall slay him.  No ceasefire shall we call, until champion are we declared.”

And then didst he summoneth all faithful of Auburn:

“Gather your children and all who love this land, and surround the street of Donahue, two days henceforth.  Ye shall pay homage unto the Walk of the Tiger, and send forth your proud warriors unto battle.  They shall not disappoint.  We have returned the BIG into Ugly.  The baby bulldogs soon invade, led unto slaughter by the son of King Dooley, dawgly betrayor of his homeland.  Confident are they of victory, and we shall instruct them in the ways of war.  Preparing as they are for the army of last year, shall they face shock and awe on the Field of Dye.”  

Hear me, People of the Plains!  The funerals end today.  Three sunsets henceforth shall mark a new dawn . . . and the secret shall unfold before thy wide eyes of joy.  And Lo, long into the Auburn night shall there be feasting, and Victory Grog poureth freely, and shall cheer wenches cheer, and dance maidens dance!    

Amen.

Manly Tiger

Auburn  34   La Tech  17