the crowd to the open courtyard off Thatch, beside Burton Hall, for the pre-game pep rally.

The Auburn University Marching Band was there, and started it all off with "War Eagle!"  Aubie, the costumed mascot, roamed throughout, stirring things up with his antics.

Pat Dye, former Auburn coach, addressed the crowd, telling of the first time that Alabama had come to Auburn to play, describing how the sun, setting in the west, produced an orange sky and that the shakers brandished by the fans, gave off a blue cloud, resulting in an orange and blue aura around the stadium - prior to a great Auburn victory.

The mood was upbeat, everybody was pumped, looking forward to tomorrow’s battle. As the pep rally broke up, Cap strolled easily across campus, back to Toomer’s Corner. College Street was awakening, as people poured in. Then he heard it again - that Friday night steak calling his name.

He explored and found a nearby steakhouse - Hamilton’s, across the street from Toomer’s and down Magnolia, to the east. The place was packed, but a small corner table was available and soon he was enjoying a T-bone steak, baked potato, and all the trimmings.

Stuffed, he stepped back out onto Magnolia. The area was really heating up, stoked with students getting their late start. It was bumper to bumper now, on College, as he strolled back to the Heart of Auburn Motel, placed his key in the lock, closed the door behind him, and fell on the bed, exhausted.

He had seen the main campus, attended the pep rally, and he was almost prepped for tomorrow.  Tiger Walk had grabbed his interest, and he was anxious to see the tailgating that he had heard so much about.

His gear was laid out, and yes, he was ready, except for one thing - his game ticket – he didn’t have one. This game was one tough ticket. But after all, he was in Dixie, and as Scarlet had said, “tomorrow is another day!”  You gotta believe.

He slid under the covers with the strains of the Fight Song bouncing inside his head, and fell asleep whistling the final line... "War Eagle win for Auburn, power of Dixieland!”

Doors slamming and footsteps on the stairs woke him to a beam of morning sun leaking through the curtains. He squinted at the clock and knew - it was gameday at Auburn.

Gameday
Gameday dawned clear and cool. As the season wound down, each Saturday became more precious. Trip Captain thought of today’s showdowns, and of the thousands stirring across the nation as the day began. By the time the lights go out tonight, he thought, hearts will be broken and the goal posts will come down, somewhere. Decisions will be made today - as with every Saturday in the autumn.

Pep rally

He showered quickly and checked his look: Dark blue cap, interlocking A over U on the crown, War Eagle pin stuck in the side; dark blue shirt, "War Eagle" large across the chest, "fight on you Orange and Blue,” smaller, underneath - magnificent; fold-up schedule of match-ups and game times nationwide; line-ups, binos, cash. Check - except for one huge missing link: No game ticket.

This was Alabama–Auburn. The Iron Bowl, Bloodfeud, the War in Dixie. A storied rivalry - one of the most intense and bitter in all of college football – and he didn’t have a ticket.  Coming here and getting shut out of the game would be a bitter pill.

He had put out his feelers, checked all his sources, and had come up empty. So now, he set out to find a game ticket, make it to Tiger Walk, and see the game. But first things first - Cap was hungry.

He headed down College St. There were tailgaters set up all along the street on the University side – in every available space. He continued on to Magnolia, and around the corner to Buffalo’s American Grill, north of Toomer’s Drug. He squeezed into a place at the bar, and inhaled a burger and Dr. Pepper, as he caught the end of the ESPN GameDay show and the Ohio State-Michigan kickoff, from the Big House.

The early games from across the nation were flashing on the screens, but Cap was antsy. Tiger Walk was two hours before kickoff, and Cap still needed a ticket. It was time to roll.

Down College toward Thatch, and as he passed a couple of diehards, they both said, "War Eagle!" "War Eagle!" Cap shot back. And so it went, the closer he moved to the stadium and the nearer to game time, he heard it everywhere: "War Eagle!"

Tickets were scarce. Cap checked with sellers along the sidewalk as he moved down College. The few for sale were either at a price that was out of sight, or at a location that was unacceptable. He kept his cool - no panic - but it was time to head to Tiger Walk and still no ticket. Then he got lucky.

Up ahead was a man, named Don, holding one ticket up. A great location - third row, upper deck, press box side - and the price was right. A quick exchange and he breathed a sigh of relief as he slid the ducat carefully into his wallet. "Ticket in hand."

Cap took off to Tiger Walk at an easy trot – into tailgater’s paradise. Everywhere that there had been orange tape claiming spaces yesterday – today there were grilles, canopies, tables, chairs, TVs blinking, music blaring. Parking on the sidewalks was prohibited, but overall regulations were relaxed. The message was clear – have a good time, and be responsible. A huge cook-out, all across the campus – right up to the Stadium.

On to Haley with the band playing off the balcony, then past the Stadium, to Donahue St. The street was already full, and he squeezed in beside the baseball park. Twenty thousand strong at least, jamming the street for a quarter mile, all the way up the slope to Sewell Hall, on the corner.

"Here they come!" a kid announced from his perch in a tree. Looking south down Donahue, Cap could see the band along the street at the top of the rise near Sewell Hall - a quarter of a mile or more away. And movement - coming toward him, weaving through the crowd - Aubie, the cheerleaders, the coaches, and then the players.

As they passed through the crowd, the fans reached out and touched the players, spoke to them - a continuous outpouring of affection and encouragement - each expressing their own message in their own way.

The players passed Cap in a steady procession, working their way through the crowd of well-wishers. All of a sudden, Carnell "Cadillac" Williams was in front of him, with his hand raised. Cap reached up and gave him a high five. "War Eagle!" Cap said. "War Eagle!" Cadillac responded, and disappeared, swallowed up in the multitude.

The crowd was thick all the way to the stadium, and after the team passed, the throng started filing into Jordan-Hare, “where the Eagle soars and Tigers roar.”

Inside, the crowd was charged, as Cap found his seat next to Don, the man who sold him his ticket. Shaking Cap’s hand, he introduced himself as an Auburn alum, "Don Bryant, from Montgomery - absolutely no relation to Bear Bryant!" he said, looking up and pointing to the far upper deck.

"Warrrrrrr Eagle!"

Cap followed his finger and there - all of a sudden, a huge golden eagle, "Tiger,” took off from the northeast corner of the stadium. With all eyes on him, the eagle rose and circled the stadium and then swooped down and landed at his handler’s feet on the 50-yard-line as the crowd thundered, "Warrrrrr Eagle!"  Awesome.

The band then took the field, playing "Glory to Ole Auburn,” "Eye of the Tiger,” "War Eagle" and the Alma Mater. Then the stream of dark blue jerseys flooded the end zone as the team ran out, led by Aubie.

Minutes later, the kickoff sailed through the end zone and Auburn set up on offense on their own 20-yard-line. 87,000 fans were ready - and they didn’t have to wait long. On the game’s first play,

Power of Dixieland continued on next page...(click here)

Page 1

Advertise     Privacy Policy