This past Saturday, I went to the Auburn/Alabama football game, also known as “Iron Bowl”, and still can’t stop thinking about the massive disappointment in the stands. No, not the loss (Auburn lost, but played brilliantly, so War Eagle!), something harder for me to shake off.
For those of you who aren’t from the south, or don’t “get” college football, or hate sports and all us idiots who get rampant over it, it’s hard to explain the hype and energy of Iron Bowl. It’s really unlike anything I’ve experienced in sports. People are hyped. To the extreme. Even with the game held the day after Thanksgiving (in the early parts of the afternoon not far removed from turkey coma) and Auburn a 7-4 unranked enigma of a team facing an undefeated powerhouse national contender in Bama.
I’m there with my good friend Thomas, who is even more rabid a sports fan than I am, particularly with Auburn football. We are both hella excited and at least moderately helped along by tailgate beers and feelin’ the vibe of our Alma mater and the crazyness of Iron Bowl. Auburn jumps out on top quickly, which isn’t that much of a surprise, but still has us and all the orange and blue fans getting more and more hyped. After a holy-shit-that-was-unreal onside kick recovered by Auburn, we’re about to jump up 14-0 and really get the place roaring. Our quarterback throws an ill-advised pass that is intercepted, but luckily for us there was a false start penalty that negated the play. At the end of the play, Bama’s cornerback takes the intercepted ball and throws it 20 yards down the field, caught up in the emotion and clearly over-reacting. Flags are all over the place, and surely he’s going to get an unsportsmanlike conduct penalty for throwing the ball.
And now the ugliness begins. The guy two “seats” to my left decides to yell out to the crowd his take on the play…
“Five yards on us for a false start!!! 15 yards on you for being a n****r!”
He didn’t get much reaction, but was clearly impressed with himself. So, as the refs called it out over the loud speaker, he repeats himself, verbatim and much, much louder. I’d already barfed in my mouth a little and alerted Thomas to the first rant, so he was ready (not that anybody would need to be) for the second. Thomas and I cringed, shook our heads and tried to turn our attention to the game. Auburn scored a touchdown moments later, but it was kind of hard to really cheer and go nuts, since I was still in shock and a little shaky from the rage and sadness this guy’s words caused.
I’m not sure how to flow this post into how that made me feel, really. It certainly wasn’t the first time I’d heard it, and certainly wasn’t any more or less hateful than before (I’d heard “friends” say it before with all the hatred intended). It was just one of those times where mere seconds before, we were in a “one of us” situation – screaming at the top of our lungs and putting all energy into rooting for a common cause. Then slam, there is the abrupt feeling that this guy would spit on my heritage in a heartbeat if given the chance. It’s draining. More so than I was ready for and more so than I can explain.
After waiting on the game to get back to life and getting ready for kickoff, Thomas leans over to him and says something along the lines of “I’m glad you are having fun, but I don’t want to hear that word again”. Dude sizes up the situation, hears Han Solo saying “it’s not wise to upset a wookie” and nods the ole discontent yet agreeable “OK”. Even though I just called him a wookie, Thomas is my fucking hero. Obviously, because he said something to the guy and I wasn’t going to, but also I can’t shake the feeling he was also going big brother and defending how upset I was. I mean, really, saying something to that guy does nothing. He probably won’t shout it again that day, but clearly it won’t change his ignorance. Either way, it was cool, and turned an utterly shitty situation into something I could feel a warm fuzzy about later.
I asked Thomas later if it was worse that he said it or nobody else said anything back to him. I’m still not sure, but I’d guess the latter, even though Thomas is certainly the exception there and I wouldn’t have said or done anything either. One final note – after he said that, I looked out and counted one non-black player on the field at the time. There are 22 players on both sides of the ball. I realize nothing about the guy has to make sense, and I guess it’s better that way.
In the end, I hope “more of us than them” applies to Thomas and I and not this guy and his type.