Big Cat Weekend

O.K., I’ll admit it. I was a little skeptical when I first heard about the “Tiger Prowl”. You remember that, don’t you? All of the coaches allowed under NCAA rule hopped into a stretch hummer limousine with Auburn magnets and flags and criss-crossed the state of Alabama visiting schools, building relationships, giving photo-ops and signing autographs. As the momentum began to build during “Tiger Growl”, I began to see that this was not a recruiting ploy aimed at me, a 50 year old, but rather aimed at 18 year olds.

And I began to understand.

Push the fast-forward button 1 month.

All day yesterday, the “inside media” teased the Auburn faithful with “big news” that would be announced at 7:00 p.m. Auburn time. Who knew what the big news was? How was it kept so secret?

At 7:00 p.m., Rivals, Scout, Alabama Live, Auburn Undercover, and several media outlets posted stories about Auburn’s Inaugural “Big Cat Weekend”.

Arriving on the Plains last night and today, for a weekend of wearing flip-flops, t-shirts, hanging out, pie-eating contests, home-run derby and chillin’ with all of Auburn’s current football players, coaches and their spouses, came 25 to 30 of the top rated recruits in America. It is a weekend of family and fun for the “Big Cats”.

How is this for a list: The #1 AND #2 rated running backs, one from Texas and the other from my home base of Spartanburg, South Carolina. The nation’s #2 rated wide receiver. The nation’s #4 rated offensive tackle. The nation’s #6 rated offensive guard. The nation’s #18 rated defensive end. The nation’s # 2 rated outside linebacker, who flew in from Connecticut. The nation’s #4 and #15 rated cornerbacks. And this just begins the list.

And I continued to understand.

This coaching staff is willing to think differently, within the rules, and recruit as hard as anyone out there. They are not conceding one inch of turf, and are recruiting in areas Auburn has never been….Connecticut, California, Texas, etc.

And now, the latest news is…..you can join in the fun of the “Big Cat Weekend”.

At 9:00 p.m. Auburn time today, there will be a “Toomer’s Corner Walk-Thru”. All Auburn fans are invited to come to the corner, and roll that traditional tree. (A little birdie told me that it’s possible there could be guests there). It is the final activity planned for the Big Cats today, and everyone else is invited to participate as well.

It’s time to show your Auburn Spirit. Head to the Plains if you can. Take plenty of toilet paper with you. Show your Auburn Spirit. Shout War Eagle! And let the Big Cats see what Auburn is really all about.

WJLaneSR

Get Along

I don’t know if grammar is taught in school anymore. Maybe it has gone the way of Latin, which also is a curriculum course of bygone eras.

I never liked grammar. Not that it was too hard or difficult, but rather it wasn’t the language I spoke. Being married to a former subject of the Queen, who found her rebellious ways and abdicated her English loyalty to become a naturalized U.S. citizen while she was in college, I have been reminded throughout the years that mine is NOT the Queen’s English.

Mine is more chattahooglish. But, thanks to Ms. Claudia Malleson, I did learn the parts of speech, including what intransitive verbs were. Call my grammar lazy; just because I don’t USE the English language properly doesn’t mean I don’t KNOW the English language.

An example of an intransitive verb is two words used together, such as: “get along”.

Those words remind me of Woody Guthrie’s “Whoopee ti yi yo, get along little doggie, it’s your misfortune and none of my own.”

Southeastern Conference Commissioner Mike Slive has changed that up a little. He has informed the head football coaches, who are vacationing (cough, cough) I mean meeting in Destin, Florida this week, that he expects them to tone down their rhetoric toward one another, and just “get along”. According to Slive, the back and forth vicious idioms between coaches are a a misfortune to the conference AND to everyone involved. Whoopie ti yi yo.

The Reverend Houston Nutt, an evangelist of sorts and the head Ole Miss-erable Rebel, said of Slive’s message to the coaches who were meeting in conclave, “He brought it today….he came with it today….I thought he was pretty good.” Sounds like Reverend Nutt was ready to pass the plate after Slive’s sermon. Not that a plate needed passing, considering the CBS/ESPN deal. Can I get an “Amen!” Reverend Nutt?

I suspect Coach Kiffin was sitting on the back pew doodling on his bulletin and shooting spitballs at the Ole Ball Coach, and I’m sure one of the deacons had to remind mad-hatter Les Miles to remove his cap while in church. Saint Richt never saw any of this, as his head was bowed and his eyes were shut in reverence.

Saban probably took a page out of Napolean’s book and put two cushions in his seat so that he would look as tall as the other coaches. That buzzing noise? That’s just Rich Brooks snoring in the back. Petrino wanted to see a fight in church, while Urban Meyer was busy texting the Florida Lettermen’s Club to find out if they had received their tickets in Section C.

Afterwards, did they sit around and sing KumBaYa and roast marshmallows on the Destin beach? Or maybe sing Sister Sledge’s “We are Family”?

Nah. Probably Not.

After all….what extended family that comes together for a week at the beach “gets along?” Especially when so many of the cousins are dysfunctional.

Chizik probably just shook his head saying to himself…”just get me back to Lee County.”

WJLaneSR

The Flora-Bama

It was at my wife’s church office Christmas luncheon. She is the Director of Children’s ministries at the church, and I was the spouse that she brought along. Sitting at our table was her colleague and very good friend, Kim, and her husband, Jeff. Yes, he and I share the same name, so there is that “man-name-bond” that we kinda have…sorta…kinda. Kim is the Administrative Lead Person for the church.

While most would think that we were probably sitting at the table discussing metaphysical spirituality of the preacher’s sermon from the previous Sunday, we were in fact discussing a topic of much more….uh….fascination. Yes, that’s a good word.

I didn’t know anyone else in Boiling Springs even knew what it was, much less where it took place. But Coach Jeff did.

We were talking about the state of Alabama, and all of those major cities you find in lower, rural Alabama. Places like Opp and Enterprise and Brewton. And in the midst of the discussion, Jeff said, “there’s a place down in Alabama right next to Florida called the Flora-Bama.” My immediate response was “yes there is…and it’s where they have the mullet toss every year.”

I was floored. Couldn’t believe it. Right here, at the church office Christmas luncheon sitting at my table in South Carolina was another person, besides me, who not only KNEW about the Flora-Bama, but had been there. It took a couple of minutes, but I remembered it was in Perdido Key.

My wife asked me, “what is a mullet toss?” To which I replied, “It’s a fish…with a gizzard.” I told her that a contestant would stand in a 10 foot circle in Alabama, and throw the fish as far as he or she could into the state of Florida. A contribution for each fish flung is given to local youth charities.

My friend Jeff knew about this upscale establishment because he used to recruit that area of Alabama for a University where he was a defensive coach. I knew about the establishment because….well….let’s just say that he knew about that upscale establishment because he used to recruit that area of Alabama for a University where he was a coach.

We laughed about that, and frankly I all but forgot about it. Until recently. A few weeks ago, the Flora-Bama had their 25th mullet toss. I stumbled across that information, and it reminded me of the lunch we had at Christmas, which reminded me of how important times like lunch and laughter and reminiscing are. Times not to be taken for granted.

Coach Jeff….thank you for the laughter, humor and memory of that lunch. This mullet’s for you.

WJLaneSR

Benny's Hole

What a disaster. I started my journey home for the holiday weekend this morning at 6:00 a.m. I should have known better. Memorial Day weekend is one of the worst times of the year to travel, and trying to get a flight out of LaGuardia on this particular Friday was, let’s say, horrendous.

My flight was delayed…..delayed…..overbooked…..and yes, I hit the lottery. Late this afternoon I found out that I would not be leaving today, but rather on the 6:00 a.m. flight TOMORROW (that’s Saturday for all my retired friends who don’t keep up with the days anymore).

Soooo….I decided to do some more work on my book. Yes, I am writing a book. An adventure you might say, that began about 13 months ago. I’m getting close to the end, with about 300 pages written. I’ll bet you didn’t know I could put together that many words. But….I decided to let the cat out of the bag today, and let you know about it. So today, instead of writing about Auburn football mingled with a little southern humor/wisdom, I’m going to give you a tease. Hey, I’m tooting my own horn, o.k.??!! It’s been a long day, and besides…it’s my blog.

So here it is….a bit from my first novel, a work in process, tentatively entitled “Benny’s Hole”.

“Why do they have to wiggle so much?” Ellis asked.

Of course, this was wasn’t the first question he had asked since they kicked off their shoes, rolled up their blue jeans and headed for the creek bank. Ellis was always asking questions. “Why do clouds look like rabbits? Do you think we’ll see a snake? Can I catch a mud puppy? How many worms do we have?”

Ellis was struggling with a night crawler that just didn’t want to cooperate. Every time he attempted to stick the golden barbed hook into the worm, he seemed to wiggle out of the way. “Hold still!” he screamed at the grayish brown crawler, as if the worm had ears and could understand a shrieking Alabama drawl.

Frankie laughed to himself. Watching the determination on Ellis’s face, which was contorted with his short pink tongue rigidly sticking through the gap where his front teeth were supposed to be, made Frankie think of his mother. Not that his mother didn’t have her front teeth. It was just reminiscent of the way she slid her wire framed glasses down her long straight nose, got really close to her sewing needle, and with determination pushed a thread through the eyelet. She always seemed to stick her tongue out in the process.

“Got him!” Ellis screamed. And indeed he had. The night crawler seemed to flip back and forth, dangling from the hook that now pierced its midsection. Ellis finally slew the dragon…..or at least hooked the worm.

It was a “rite of passage”. No longer will the other boys call him a baby. He conquered his fear of the sharp barbed metal and the worm it skewered. He had overcome the fright of the wiggly unknown. He had experienced that dramatic moment when a boy finally and successfully baits his own hook.

“Will it bite?” “Will it bleed?” “Will worm guts come flowing out like boiled okra?”

Ellis had passed the hurdle. “He’s growing up,” Frankie though to himself.

Being the ten year old big brother of little Ellis, Frankie believed it was his job to show Little Brother the ropes. That included fishing for bream in Benny’s Hole.

On lazy spring days; it was the place Frankie migrated to. Not just for the fishing, although on a good day it would offer up enough blue gills for a small fish fry, but also because of the big hickory tree that had grown close to the creek bank.

Blue Jays and Starlings and Woodpeckers alike enjoyed the tree. Not only for the nuts it bore, or the nests it held, but also for the insects that seemed to inhabit it. The shade provided an ideal spot for a young boy to daydream about life and fishing while listening to the repetitious sound of a red-headed woodpecker tapping a hole just above him.

A dream of how one day he was going to get out of here, and leave all this behind.

So, if you want to know more about Ellis and Frankie….well…..one day in the not to distant future, you’ll have to read the book.

Take care.

WJLaneSR

Walk On

A gallon of gas cost 50 cents. Interest rates were 16%. The teenagers were flocking to see “Blazing Saddles”. “Jaws” and “The Exorcist” had people squirming in their seats.
It was the year of the “Thrilla in Manila”. The top selling albums were “AWB – Average White Band”, “Physical Graffiti – Led Zeppelin”, and “Red Octopus – Jefferson Starship”.

And he graduated from Auburn University.

It was May, 1975.

He received his Bachelor of Arts degree. He then went to the University of Montevallo and earned a Master of Arts degree.

He played for Shug Jordan. In fact, he walked-on in 1970. In 1971, Jordan gave him a full football scholarship. He excelled both on the field and off it.

And in 1975, he graduated.

He was a part of that magical, miraculous 1972 football team that earned the name “The Amazins”.

He was a writer for “The Plainsman” while at Auburn. His major was journalism.

And in 1975, he graduated with honors from Auburn University.

He wrote a book that came out last year entitled “Walk On”. It is an autobiographical journey that explores those historical times at Auburn from 1970 to 1975. In his words, “there was a cultural change that was going on, not only in football but in the whole of society….we were, I guess, vessels of that change.”

After leaving Auburn, he never really looked back. For you see, with all the joy he experienced being a part of “the Amazins”, there had been an awful lot of pain as well. He went away to California, as far from Auburn as one could get and still be in the continental United States.

He was invited, coaxed, and finally convinced to come back to Auburn for a reunion in 2002. It was the thirty year reunion of “the Amazins”. Although he had severe reservations, he came back for the gathering. And it was there that he faced the demons that haunted him.

There he was. That old teammate who taunted him every day. Every single solitary day. Taunted him with the most vile racial slurs one could use. And said them with venom. Told him he was worthless. That he was less than human. Words that hurt and hurt deeply. Words you don't just "get over".

His adversary, that old teammate, the one who brought back haunting memories of hatred and racism, walked over to him. He didn’t say a word. He just hugged him. Hard. More than just a greeting hug. A real hug. A man-hug. A hug with tears in his eyes.

“We didn’t say anything. We just hugged. And it wasn’t one of those little hugs. And that was all we had to do. It’s 30 years later, and world really has changed. Even at Auburn.”

That reunion was the prod that Thomas Gossom needed to write his book. The book that came out in the fall of 2008. And Gossom is giving all of the proceeds of the book sale to the Auburn University Scholarship Endowment Fund.

You see, Thomas Gossom, or Thom Gossom as he is now known, was the first African
-American athlete to graduate from Auburn University. It was 34 years ago this month.

And although he has gone on to be a very successful actor on HBO and the big screen, an award winning writer and producer, and a corporate executive with BellSouth, it was the reunion that changed him.

And now, instead of walking away from Auburn with hurt and pain, he is walking on at Auburn again, to challenge and educate and motivate a new generation of students….of all color, race and creed.

And his challenge to all of us, in whatever we do, is…..Walk On.

WJLaneSR

A Dark Night

Maybe I’m not the batman enthusiast I thought I was. I haven’t seen “The Dark Knight”. I have no interest in seeing Heath Ledger as “the Joker”.

Mind you, when I was little, I religiously watched Adam West as “Batman”, and Burt Ward as “The Boy Wonder” fighting crime and contending with the villains of Gotham City. Of course there was “Alfred”, the loyal butler. Commissioner Gordon and Chief O’Hara were always found in the police commissioner’s office. But I think my favorite character was Burgess Meredith as “the Penguin”. I also loved the way each show would end with the narrator articulating a cliffhanger tag about next week’s villain with the words “Watch the next episode!”……

Although I have no interest in seeing Christopher Nolan’s adaptation of the caped crusader, I am in the minority. Heath Ledger won an Oscar for the Best Supporting Actor in the movie, and it is one of the top 15 moneymakers of all movies. The age group that this movie appeals to the most, and who have spent the most money viewing it, are the 17-23 year olds.

Maybe that explains Jordan-Hare Stadium.

Since 9-11-01, there has been a parade of yellow jacketed security encircling the playing field at Jordan-Hare, with the stadium announcer proclaiming with about 7 minutes left in any given football game: “For your safety and security, please stay off the playing field following today’s game. All exits at Jordan-Hare Stadium are now open.”

The yellow garbed security are poised and ready to arrest, tackle, or even hose if necessary, any violator of the “stay off the field” rule.

But let’s be honest. What Auburn student doesn’t want to run out onto the field, have a little fun with their friends, and celebrate?

Evidently, Auburn listened.

The week before graduation, on a clear, dark Saturday night, the “War Eagle!” and “Eye of the Tiger” and “Living on a Prayer” that is normally rocking the concrete and steel of Jordan-Hare Stadium was replaced with the thundering sound effects of “The Dark Knight”. Yes, Batman came to Pat Dye Field at 10:00 p.m. that evening.

Over 2000 students brought quilts their grandma’s had made, blankets they had purchased at WalMart or J&M, picnic baskets full of less than healthy munchies, and spread out all over the playing field. It was movie night at Jordan-Hare.

The Black Knight was shown in high definition on the jumbo-tron, and Pat Dye Field turned into Auburn’s 2009 version of a Drive-In Theater, without any cars.

Aubie showed up and drove a mini “bat-mobile” from the player’s tunnel, with smoke and background music like it was a Saturday in October….only this time playing the historical “Batman Music”. He was adorned with a mask and cape, and pictures were made with the caped Tiger-Crusader.

One nursing student was quoted as saying she came because she wanted to see the movie, and because she had never been on the playing field at Jordan Hare…..and who knows if or when that opportunity might happen again.

O.K., I’ll be honest. If I had the opportunity to sit on the fifty yard line to watch “The Dark Knight”, I probably would have been there too.

I do wonder, though…..just how dark was that night at Jordan Hare Stadium?

WJLaneSR

The Big Orange Mouth

He’s perhaps the greatest storyteller of all time. An author of adventures seemingly written for youth, but saturated with adult irony, symbolism and sitz en lieben. I have a copy of one of his volumes in my office, and from time to time, peruse it for humor and wisdom.

Perhaps Lane Kiffin should have taken his advice. Lest you don’t know Coach Lane (no relation to any family member of mine, by the way), he is the new Head Football Volunteer for the University of Tennessee.

It seems that this past week, assistant Vol Coach Eddie Gran was booted off Pahokee Florida High School’s property because of something Lane Kiffin said back in February. Gran was coming to the school to present a scholarship offer to junior Antonio Ford, but Principal Ariel Alejo said “no one from Tennessee is allowed on school grounds until Coach Kiffen comes to Pahokee and publicly apologizes for what he said.” And he told Coach Gran to leave the property....immediately.

Wow! What did Kiffin do that so upset the Pahokee school administration?

It seems it all had to do with one Nu’Keese Richardson, who was a student at Pahokee and signed a scholarship with Tennessee. The day after he signed, Kiffin accused Florida coach Urban Meyer of cheating and said he could not trust officials at Pahokee High with handling Richardson's paperwork. "Someone at the school was going to screw it up," Kiffin said Feb. 5. "The fax machine wouldn't work, or they would have changed the signatures - all the things that go on in Pahokee." Kiffin went on to say, "For those of you who haven't been to Pahokee, there ain't much going on. You take that hour drive up from South Florida, there ain't a gas station that works. Nobody's got enough money to even have shoes or a shirt on."

As it turns out, Urban Meyer not only did NOT cheat (at least in the recruiting of Richardson)….the rule Kiffin accused Meyer of breaking does not even exist.

Philip Marshall, senior writer for Auburn Undercover says, “Lane Kiffin has proved, beyond a reasonable doubt, that he doesn’t know when to keep his mouth shut.”

Yes, Coach Kiffin should read one of the greatest authors of all time, and heed his advice.

That advice?

“It ain't what you don't know that gets you into trouble. It's what you know for sure that just ain't so.”

Of course, this is a quote from the great Mark Twain. I have these words written on a piece of paper that serves as a bookmark in my copy of “The Adventures of Huckleberry Finn”. The volume has a prominent place in my office.

Coach Kiffin, Mark Twain would tell you, “Get your facts first, then you can distort them as you please.”


WJLaneSR

An Autumn to Remember

October 1. The first crisp breeze of fall was in the air. It was football season, and for the southeastern United States, that meant Saturday pilgrimages to hallowed structures of iron, concrete and steel….with chorusing shouts and hallelujiahs.

It was Tuesday. I was still reeling from the 30-21 thumping that Tennessee had given the Auburn Tigers on Saturday, this a week after beating the Texas Longhorns 14-10.

We were living in rural South Georgia, and there was nothing else on television.

I remotely clicked it over to the Super Station. After all, it was the last week of the regular season.

It was late in the game. Jose Rijo was pitching. I don’t remember what inning it was, but the Reds were up 6-0. I thought to myself that I would just watch until it was over. After all, they had given it a good run.

Slowly, the Braves rallied.

It was reported in the Greenville, South Carolina newspaper that a local physician was watching the game as well.

David Justice came to the plate. I sat up on the edge of my seat, because there were two outs in the ninth inning. The Bravos were behind 6-5 with a runner on base. I don’t remember who it was.

The good doctor, so it was reported, was also sitting on the edge of his seat.

Reds reliever Ron Dibble got the sign. Fastball. Low and away. Justice can’t hold back on them, and he can’t hit them.

Skip Caray, the longtime Braves announcer who has now gone on to his reward in heaven, was announcing the game on the Super Station. Not too much verbiage. Only just enough.

He said, “Dibble winds and deals…..long fly ball…..”

The police were called to the physician’s house, according to paper. His wife thought someone was breaking in, and she dialed 911. It seems that when David Justice hit the Ron Dibble fastball that was low and INSIDE…not outside….he screamed at the top of his lungs, “Get Out!!! Get Out!!! Get Out!!!”

Fortunately, the two officers who arrived at his house with their blue lights flashing were Braves fans as well….after all, Atlanta’s “AA” farm team was located in Greenville at that time.

I am sure I was screaming also.
Caray continued “From Worst…to First! Listen to this crowd!!! Gotta borrow this one from you, Dad, ‘Holy Cow!’ After a David Justice home run in the 9th with the Braves down 6-5 and coming from the cellar with less than ten games to go in the season!!!”

I don’t believe I have ever experienced as much excitement about Baseball as I did that fall. Maybe it was because the Braves were all but written off. Maybe because it was all so unexpected.

I remember I stayed up late that night. I was riveted. I couldn’t sleep. All I could do was stare at CNN Headline News waiting for the west coast scores. “Twenty after the hour and Ten of” was when they would show the scores back then.

It was a bicoastal, late night pennent race, and it kept me, and many more like me, up until the wee hours of the morning….1:50 a.m…..ten of 2:00 a.m…..when the score came in. The Braves had done it.

It captivated the entire Southeast in the autumn of 1991.

Yes, it was the best of times…..it was the worst to first of times.

WJLaneSR

Talking Baseball....Baseball and the Braves...

I admit, most of my blogging centers around one particular college football team, with a little southern humor and perhaps a life lesson threaded through the less than Queen’s English vocabulary. But today will be different.

Not that I won’t be thinking about the Tiger Prowl, or summer workouts. In fact, I could write about spending some time with a friend who used to play against Auburn, or an acquaintance I made with a person who’s father coached against them. But I’m not doing any of that.

Rather, I am going to be nostalgic. Baseball nostalgic.

I watched the Braves last night….trying so desperately hard to keep from getting swept by the Mets. Making a run in the bottom of the ninth after a typical Mets error….bringing Chipper Jones up to bat with the winning run on base. Oh, for the good old days…..but alas….Chipper isn’t quite the Chipper of his youth, and a long fly ball out ended the game. They looked like the Braves of old…..if you’re as old as me. The Braves BEFORE the streak…the wins…the World Series.

I remember when we used to go to old Fulton County Stadium and buy cheap tickets, then walk down close to the field because you and 1847 other people were the only ones there.

The year was 1979. A bumper sticker was floating around that said, “Go Braves…and take the Falcons with you!”

Ah, the good old days. Thirty years ago.

Do you remember the Braves roster in 1979? Let me jog your memory. The Braves opened the season with the Los Angeles Dodgers. Starting pitcher for the Dodgers…none other than Terry Forster. When asked what he thought about the opening game against the Braves, he said, “Just look at him (Dale Murphy) over there. Doesn’t drink. Doesn’t smoke. Doesn’t take greenies. Nicest guy you’d ever want to meet. Hits the hell out of the ball, hustles like crazy, plays a great centerfield and isn’t trying to get anything from anybody. Doesn’t he just make you sick?!?”

Of course, in 1979 the Braves were still trying to determine if Murphy should be a catcher, first baseman, outfielder, or bench warmer.

And Murph’s teammates? Behind the plate were Bruce Benedict and Biff Pocaroba. In the outfield was Barry Bonnell, Jeff Burroughs, Gary Matthews, and subbing were Rowland Office and Brian Asselstine.

Infield was Jerry Royster, Glen Hubbard, Bob Horner and Darryl Chaney.

The pitchers that year included Phil Niekro, Larry McWilliams, Rick Mahler, Rick Matula, Eddie Solomon, Preston Hanna, Gene Garber, Tony Brizzolara, and Tommy Boggs.
The Braves were playing in the NL West back then, and the Big Red Machine won that division. The Braves? Dead last. 66 wins and 94 losses.

This was the year that Buzz Capra was released by the Braves.
This was the year that Dave Campbell was traded to Montreal for Pepe Friaz.

Fortunately, a little help was coming. Brett Butler was drafted in June, 1979, along with Brooke Jacoby and Paul Runge.

Last night I thought about how bad those Braves were in 1979. It felt a little bit like Déjà vu, as I watched the Braves of 2009.

Oh, yeah….one other thing. The Manager of the Braves in 1979? Bobby Cox.

WJLaneSR