Sleepy sweet home Alabama

Posted on by Carla Jean Whitley

On days like this, I feel more like a Floridian than an Alabamian. I’m wearing a short sleeve T shirt and my favorite hole-y jeans with the legs cuffed. I slipped on my pink Chucks when I left the house earlier, but now I’m sitting barefoot in my living room, enjoying the breeze from the open window.

But on days like this, when I’m sitting in front of a college football game, I realize I’m more an Alabamian than a Floridian.

As ESPN ran a montage of 2005’s greatest moments in college football, I searched out every shot of crimson and white I could spot. I beamed with pride as images of Brodie Croyle and Tyrone Prothro (the catch!) filled the screen.

And I gasped at the first image of a Seminole. I had forgotten that I have another team.

I know I should be ashamed. I am ashamed! I spent three and a half fantastic years at Florida State, and I enjoyed twice as many football seasons there as I did as a student at Alabama.

But my home’s in Alabama – and now, so are my driver’s license and voter registration. I’m not sure what is required to call yourself an Alabamian, but I’m here, and I am one.


Forgive me for blogging after the fact … I don’t have internet access at home, but I’ve been writing just the same. And I have a new year entry to make, it’s just still in my journal.

This is the sort of thing that keeps me up at night.

Posted on by Carla Jean Whitley

[01:46] DixieMedley: my poor son is going to be pressured into being a football player.
[01:46] DixieMedley: you know that?
[01:46] DixieMedley: I am goign to live vicariously
[01:47] Wes: My momma was big into football, but she was really protective of me. That’s why I do my damage with a pen and not with pads.
[01:47] DixieMedley: nah, my son’s gonna tear both acls by the time he’s 22
[01:48] Wes: So did Brodie (the acl’s)…
[01:48] DixieMedley: I know.
[01:48] DixieMedley: I’m gonna have a qb.
[01:48] DixieMedley: figure I’m not big enough to birth anything besides a qb or a kicker.
[01:48] DixieMedley: I”m gonna aim for the qb but I’ll take a kicker.
[01:48] DixieMedley: my gosh, I’m crazy aren’t I?

Every Bama man’s behind you, hit your stride

Posted on by Carla Jean Whitley

I seem to take pictures less frequently in my old age (I really think it’s because Alisa’s not here anymore — I took a crapload when we were roommates). So I don’t have a lot to memorialize this weekend’s football game, but here they are … basking in the reflected glory of a ‘Bama win.

crimson
Warm ups and stuff … just because I like crimson.

go seminoles!
Go Seminoles! I always wear my FSU hat to the biggest Alabama games because I always wore my Alabama hat to the Florida–Florida State games. And well, Philip isn’t a bama fan, so what do you expect? (I insisted we take this picture before the game started in case I was in a bad mood later. That proved unnecessary.)

ROLL DAMN TIDE
This was just before we rammer jammered the hell out of them. 🙂 Final score

rammer jammer
Decided to take pictures at Innisfree – this is with one of the Chrises. (How do you spell Chris when it’s plural? It wouldn’t be Chris’s, ’cause that’s possessive.) I should’ve got a pic with the other one, too, but I guess he’s always there. :shrug: Actually, I guess I only took this picture at innisfree. Oh well. He went to my parents’ high school.

We just beat the hell out of you!

Posted on by Carla Jean Whitley

Every summer, I tell myself that this will be the year that I chill out about football. Every year, I convince myself that it’s just a game and that I can watch it, enjoy the brilliant displays of athleticism and move on after the clock hits zero.

Then the season opener rolls around, and I realize every year that I’m full of crap.

Even though this year’s opener was against MTSU and I only listened on radio, the mood was set. I nearly had a fit as I listened to Rammer Jammer in the fourth quarter, and then annoyed all the girls in the office as I jumped up and down in front of the TV during Georgia Tech’s big win over Auburn. (Yeah, I had to work. Can you believe?)

With each week the season improves. First Florida State beat Miami (finally), then everyone made it to October undefeated. (By everyone, I mean “everyone who mattered.”)

Wake me up when September ends, I said.

But today Bama convinced me I was trapped in a dream. There were a few small glitches, sure (well, and Prothro’s broken leg). But we scored on our first possession (on our first PLAY of our first possession) and things just kept clicking.

Kevin (was that his name?) pinched me sometime in the second quarter. This is all real.

I didn’t believe it until the clock showed nine minutes left in the fourth quarter (yes, right before Prothro’s injury). I looked at the scoreboard and confirmed that we were still up, 31-3. (That was the score at that point, right? I need to buy the DVD.) I looked at the field and confirmed that it was our possession.

“We’re gonna win,” I thought. “We’re gonna win. AND I AM HERE.”

I know he was just my favorite a few days ago, but Philip wins twice in one week. Not only did he get me into that game, but he was sweet enough to stay long enough that I could scream Rammer Jammer at the top of my lungs … and he sang along, too, because it’s the best cheer and because he has good sense. (And well, because he loves to see the Gators lose.)

I might like Brodie a little bit better than him today … but only a little bit.

Oh, and did I mention that parts of the student section did the TOMAHAWK CHOP as the fourth quarter ran out? Get it, Seminoles!

HEY GATORS!

WE JUST BEAT THE HELL OUT OF YOU!

RAMMER JAMMER YELLOW HAMMER!

GIVE ‘EM HELL, ALABAMA!

Philip Randall Morgan is my favorite person in the whole entire world at this moment

Posted on by Carla Jean Whitley

Randall has two l’s, right?

He got me a Florida ticket.

All I have to pay is $35 for the upgrade.

I literally almost cried.

And then I ran and danced around the newsroom. My co-workers thought I had gotten a job. No, no. It’s football.

It’s more important than a job. C’mon people.

😉

ROLL DAMN TIDE!

You know everything I say, but not a word that I heard

Posted on by Carla Jean Whitley

This sort of day reminds me a big of graduate school. And isn’t it weird that these memories are far enough gone that I feel justified in calling them memories?

I’ve spent the day thus far idly listening to music, occasionally instant messaging friends, making coffee and reading. Later I’ll go in to work, but it feels just like the days when all I had were night classes.

My front porch now overlooks downtown Tuscaloosa instead of downtown Northport, and it’s too hot to haul my laptop outside to write. Besides, my computer isn’t as reliable now as it was this time two years ago.

Two years ago.

Where has the time gone? I’m too young to think life is speeding by, but sometimes it sure feels that way.

Two years ago I attended orientation at UA (on crutches), then began classes and met people with whom I’m still friends. I decorated my apartment with my new roommate and spent my days jotting down my thoughts, when I wasn’t in class (and let’s be honest — often when I was!).

And now I guess I’m a professional. That didn’t strike me as odd until I realized that this is the first fall in 20 years that I won’t be going to school.

I told Philip the other day that I’m a little bit jealous of him. I don’t want (or need) another degree, but I loved being a graduate student. And isn’t it weird that I spent so much effort rushing to get my bachelor’s only to love the years I spent in grad school?

I actually keep some of my grad school texts on my bedroom shelves. I kind of miss studying. (I even spent part of the morning reading a newspaper design book.) Philip has promised to keep me posted on how much work he’s doing so I can kill the urge to enroll … but I still think that if I ever get a job that offers tuition reimbursement, I’ll find a way to put it to use.

Underneath this age is the heart of a child

Posted on by Carla Jean Whitley

It’s been three years since I graduated from FSU. I remember much of that day vividly, though I really didn’t journal about it. I remember crying when Philip and Stacy left my house the night before because I didn’t know what to expect of our still-young friendships. I remember pulling over on my way to Schoolfield’s graduation party and crying off my make up. I was suddenly unsure about the early graduation I’d so long anticipated. I remember an early dinner at Carraba’s and running from Wescott to the Civic Center after taking pictures. I remember the blisters that made for a painful walk across the stage. I remember a half-hearted visit to Stetson’s.

Then just as quickly as it began, it was over. I was a college graduate, young and uncertain of what was next. I had a graduate school acceptance on one hand and a whole lot of nothing on the other.

I don’t remember when I decided not to go to Alabama, though I remember the fear and self consciousness that held me back. And I can still vividly recall the night when I began to reconsider that decision.

I’d been a graduate for almost six months by then—I was actually one day shy of that anniversary. I knew I couldn’t stay in my current master’s program. I was clinging to memories that had passed and friendships that were changing.

Against that backdrop, a stranger innocently asked why I hadn’t gone to Alabama. Though I risk crediting that simple question with too much power, it was then that I began to take slow, tentative steps toward Tuscaloosa.

It was in a coffee shop in that small Southern city that I celebrated the first year I’d held a bachelor’s degree. That degree hadn’t gotten me far at that point—I hadn’t even decided yet to enroll in the master’s program from which I would eventually graduate. But I was finally at a point where I was willing to take risks (however small). I was only 21 years old.

I guess I have grown up a bit in the years since my college graduation. I’m more confident in my relationships. My friends are still terribly important to me, but I don’t base major life decisions on them anymore. Though they do provide a sense of security, I’ve seen how my relationships grow, change and encourage me regardless of what city and state I call home.

Now I have a master’s degree. I guess that’s the most obvious difference, but its significance is more in the gamble and passion that earned it than in the degree itself. Student loans and writing at the risk of rejection aren’t what most thrill seekers pursue, but they were big steps for a little girl who thought she had life planned out at age 20.

I’m where I dared to dream I’d be. When I took the GRE with little preparation and a runny nose, it was with the hope of earning an education and a job in Sweet Home Alabama. On this day three years ago, I was scared to take that chance.

I think the 20-year-old me would be proud of who her 23-year-old self has become.

Hey Rebels – we’re gonna beat the hell outta you!

Posted on by Carla Jean Whitley

“I grew up in Alabama – possibly the worst place on earth to acquire a healthy perspective on the importance of spectator sports.” –Warren St. John

St. John could understand my plight. The Mountain Brook native is the author of my latest read, Rammer Jammer Yellow Hammer: A Journey into the Heart of Fan Mania. This crazy journalist joined a group of RVin’ ‘Bama fans and trailed the team across the country during the 1999 season. (All I can say is, I wish I’d had the idea first. And 1999 was a beautiful year for college football.)

Many of my friends, however, don’t relate. At least, that’s the only logical conclusion when you consider the important games I’ve had to miss because of their inconsideration.

I gave away my Tennessee ticket last year in order to attend a wedding that ended up being postponed. Let me offer some perspective for those of you outside the ‘Bama nation. We all know that the Alabama-Auburn rivalry is the biggest in the nation. Florida-Florida State isn’t too far behind. Florida State also bears a venomous hatred for our enemies to the south, Miami. Just as Florida State abhors those schools almost equally, Alabama despises Auburn and Tennessee.

In fact, let’s turn to St. John again for an illustrative anecdote. Here, he recounts a trip through Tennessee en route to Alabama’s season opener against Vanderbilt. These aren’t Vandy fans giving them trouble; it’s the other state team (who Alabama doesn’t play until much later in the season).

“A bit farther down the road, passing motorists begin to flip us off. In a sea of orange, our Alabama bumper stickers and that TIDE license plate are the equivalent of KICK ME signs taped to our backs.”

A week ago, I passed on Alabama’s season opener in favor of a 500 mile drive to Virginia. Okay, so we played Utah State, but it was still the first game of the year! Instead of sitting in a stadium of sweaty football fans, I spent my weekend with friends from far-off lands and dancing at a wedding.

Tonight offers another challenge. Florida State will open their season against the aforementioned Miami Hurricanes. I’ll be dining on sushi and Thai noodles at Surin West.

I suppose I could fault Hurricane Frances instead of the friend whose birthday I’ll be celebrating. After all, this game would have taken place on Monday if it wasn’t for Miami’s namesake wreaking havoc on Florida. (But would we have wanted to play on a flooded field? You saw last year’s match up, didn’t you? I don’t trust Chris Rix in puddles.)

Pray for me: Maybe I’ll make it home in time to catch the fourth quarter.

[Disclaimer: I’m mostly kidding. Yeah, it stinks to miss big games, but friends are more important… so if you’re one of the people who caused these incidents, realize I don’t hold a grudge and that you’re worth the sacrifice. 😉 Even though I wouldn’t have minded watching the game…]