The Oklahoma University takes it’s historic football program to Knoxville, Tennessee, to play the Volunteers of the University of of Tennessee. Just another football game? Not on your life. Two football giants with unique personalities. One draped in the blood of crimson and milk of cream from the greatest gridiron lair of the midlands. The other, basked in the sweet orange veined bloodhound of old Rocky Top, clashing in the confines of one of the largest cathedrals of the South. The Big 12 and the Southeastern Conference pitted against each other. Where football is more important than life and death for many. An occurrence where the one hundred thousand people in attendance on the holy ground of the God of Neyland is just a minor extension of the millions in the great bastion of college football that take a blood oath of following their legions of warriors.
An overstatement? Ask the Christians after their conversion. Ask Johnny Reb when he made Picket’s charge at Gettysburg, Tell that to the men and women that live and die on each play of the big game that will live with them in their psyche for the remainder of their being. No overstatement whatsoever. Orange and Red meet for memories of a lifetime. And it does matter? Yes! More than a non-believe could imagine.
The man, a very important man, a leader of other men, much younger, almost broke down Saturday night after the fight for eternity between the orange and red. The emotion in his voice told the faithful and foe that he was at the breaking point. A through-the-looking glass moment that allowed us to see his soul, one he has hid for most of his sixteen years as the General of his men. Yes, he had let us glimpse at his unpleasant inner side, but not much on his softer, thankful one. One that he hides well, especially when he tries to shield from the soothsayers.
Two and a half hours of being in a nightmare of total agony had set the stage. A horrible live experience of misery this leader of men suffered. What could go wrong did go wrong, and the depths of hell were just eight minutes away, with the hated orange devils of the Gods of the Horn, the Cowboy, and now the Vol, licking their chops for a taste. The man was conflicted in every way that wasn’t good. Then the one and true good god of the crimson and cream, saved the man as the light of the covered wagon could be seen in the far distance making it’s approach. That light of the cream (the milk cow of the covered wagon),and the crimson of blood (Little Red, the one and true Merlin of the land) was drenching the orange blooded hound dog of Rocky Top, smothering the poor pooch with a death concoction. In it’s finality, the hound was put to sleep for the night, not to bark until awakened the next Sunday morning. It was a disaster of extreme proportions for the millions that had claimed an orange victory over the good of crimson by the hound of Rocky Top. The tide of the red sea had snuffed the dog in the next hour or so, putting the dog down. It was painful and horrific, and the memories would cut deep for that poor dead dog.
The man, saved by his Mayfields of red, his own Shepard taking the place of the hound of the god of Neyland, and his crimson Perine of life, sits and tells of the wonderment of a new existence. A world of life, of past memories, void of the color orange, and considers himself a man of joy that rides on top of the road of despair. His voice cracks and we can see the past four hours mattered. Life is good and for the poor hound of the Rocky Top, not so much.
Above Photo Credit: KNOXVILLE, TN – SEPTEMBER 12: Head coach Bob Stoops of the Oklahoma Sooners hugs running backs Samaje Perine #32 and Joe Mixon #25 after an overtime victory against the Tennessee Volunteers at Neyland Stadium on September 12, 2015 in Knoxville, Tennessee. (Photo by Jackson Laizure/Getty Images
