On the road with Volunteer nation...

As a Graduate Athletic Training student, my weekends often aren’t terribly eventful. I typically have some sporting event to work at where I’m holding water, taping ankles and waiting around for an injury to happen. It’s not at all glamorous, but I like it. Heck, I’d rather be working at sporting events for my job than sitting behind a desk all day. Then on Sundays I usually settle into my recliner to watch some football, and try to fit some studying in somewhere. So when I get the opportunity to go somewhere for a weekend and watch my team play in person, I take the chance and run with it.

So after my fourth test in four days I started the trek early Friday afternoon. Six and half hours is a small portion of my valuable time to get to see my Volunteers play arch-rival Florida. So I made the drive from Chattanooga to Gainesville to go to the event with my old college roommate David, who graciously got me a ticket to the big game. After watching the game together every year in college, this has become a tradition for us. So to finally get an opportunity to watch the game live, and in person, was a real treat; even if it had to come at the Swamp, in the middle of the Florida Student section.

On the drive down there I had a few experiences that really got me excited. I don’t know that there is really any way to explain the feelings of nostalgia evoked by being stuck in a traffic jam and looking to your left and right only to see a mini-van and a Jeep Cherokee decked out in Orange and White. It’s just great knowing that are in a community of friends, comrades in arms who are donoting their time to go support their troops (how can you pass up the soldier reference here; I mean, Kellen Winslow made his infamous comparison after losing to the Vols). You just feel a connection to the people next to you. If you’ve ever driven a Jeep Wrangler on a warm summer day with the top down, and seen another Wrangler on the road, you know what I’m talking about. You’ll be sitting at a light, see another Jeep and there’s a silent, measurable bond there. You nod your head, exchange your respect and keep going; it’s a small thing, but it’s strange how noticeable it is.


Later, as night was coming on strong, when the butt was getting tired, and all I wanted to do was get there quickly so I could take advantage of my buddy’s facilities, I saw it; the light at the end of the tunnel. And instead of pondering my eternal destiny, I realize that light I saw was not a halo, and it wasn’t a train coming the other way either; instead it was a faithful Tennessee fan who has his entire rear window lit up by lights that spell out a power-“T”. Inspired by yet another showing of team loyalty, I was able to continue my trip, and arrive at my friend’s facilities without an oil spill.

On gameday, we spent most of our time watching football and the Laguna Beach marathon. Yes, THAT Laguna Beach: the Real O.C. … normally a reality TV show built on the hype of youth soap-opera is not such a good idea. Actually, I probably shouldn’t say normally; 99% of the time this wouldn’t be a good idea. But, and maybe this is just justification for my own patheticness, in this case I find it entertaining. In any case, here we were, three guys in their early twenties, waiting for the big game, watching Laguna Beach and each of us, in our own way, coming up with excuses for watching the show. From my, “we don’t have to keep watching, but Jessica’s really cute, we should wait till you see her…” to Travis’ (my friend, and David’s roommate), “this is really well edited...” (it was Tarrantino esque), there we were, and there we remained. Finally, we got David and Travis painted up from waistline to forehead in Orange and Blue, respectively, and a large “U” on the chest of David, and an “F” on Travis (more on this to come). I donned my Tennessee orange baseball cap and Vols T-shirt and we started our walk to the stadium.

The trip to the stadium was what I expected; people cheering when they saw my friends, and then immediately swearing, yelling and booing when they saw me. We must have been an odd site to the simple-minded Gator fans; die hard Gators walking side by side with a Volunteer. I mean, let’s be honest, most of the drunken Florida fans had enough trouble telling if David was a Tennessee fan or a Florida fan. Painted in orange with only a “U” instead of a more telling “F” on his chest, fans frequently questioned him and often threatened him when they saw him associating with me. But let’s be honest, how much can you expect from intoxicated co-eds from redneck country Florida; who often thought screaming “Go home” at the top of their lungs to a Tennessee fan was not only a display of school spirit, but pretty clever (though, not nearly as neat as digital watches).

And I’d be lying if I said that it wasn’t a bit scary being, by my count, one of three Tennessee fans in the entire quarter of the field. I mean, as one of my professors recently announced to the class about me, “now Mark’s not a very muscular guy”… To say that the general status of most of the fans was sober, would be a slight exaggeration. But to their credit, the Florida fans were only slightly obnoxious and inhospitable about the fact that I was cheering for the Vols (but being in the Dental School block of the stands might have helped more than a little bit with this fact…).

A real highlight of the game (besides the lone touchdown we scored) was watching Travis and David unknowingly stand next to each other as they spelled “FU” to all onlookers. All the while they had grins on their faces. Priceless…
As far as “the swamp” goes, I wasn’t that impressed. I mean, setting an attendance record not only for the school, but for the entire state of Florida at just over 90,000 fans is hardly impressive for a UT fan. I mean, I intend to write an article exclusively about the much more impressive Neyland Stadium after my first game there when Tennessee and Georgia face off later this season. I’d also like to point out that alternately shouting, “Orange, Blue” is not terribly awe-inspiring, nor is it very creative. I must admit, however, that “it’s great… to be… a Florida Gator” is a catchy song… FOR ME TO POOP ON!!!

And now, we come to the most depressing portion of my account; the outcome. We lost, I won’t say very much more than that. Special teams killed us, or offense is terrible, we only gave Clausen two series to play after giving him the start, and oh yeah, our offense sucks. I left the game very confident that, as they currently stand, BOTH teams are over-rated. I also was NOT impressed by Urban Meyer’s offense. If he’s such a great coach, who come his team got penalized every other play? I could ignore this fact, if in fact the offense had been either productive OR creative. Unfortunately for Gator fans, it was neither. They mostly just ran up the middle, and got sacked a lot.

And so, after tasting the bitterness of defeat, I could have tucked my tail and ran home. While I won’t say I did nothing to lick my wounds (after all, I went home and watched some more Laguna Beach episodes), I did not hide from the Tennessee defeat. The next day, when it was time to head home, I once again donned my Vols cap and made sure that every car I passed on the way with a Gator on it could see my hat. Tennessee didn’t get where it is as a program by being ashamed. And so, I saddled up for another delightful trip on the road with Volunteer nation. Yeah we had lost, yeah it was an ugly game. But I was there, I supported my team, and I loved every minute of it…