Forum Classics

This is what it is all about...

Posted by WB on October 17, 2001

You know the best thing about Daniel Moore paintings?
Even though they do a beautiful job capturing the
moments most associated with the game they represent,
they also evoke memories of the moments leading up to
these plays that were often as big (if not bigger)
than the actual game winning plays themselves.
There's no 'Goal Line Stand' if Don McNeal doesn't
appear from nowhere to stop Penn State receiver Scott
Fitzkee at the one two plays earlier.
There's no 'Kick' from Van Tiffin if Greg Richardson
doesn't drag the Auburn defensive back halfway across
the field in an effort to get out of bounds to stop
the clock.
There's no 'Block' by Thomas Rayam in Happy Valley if
Tide defenders don't stop Blair Thomas inches short of
the goal line moments before.
The funny thing about plays like these is that when
they happen, when you're there in the stands and you
see them, or when you're at home watching the game on
television, they seem so large, so defining, that
you're sure you'll be singing the praises of the men
responsible for years to come. But those thoughts are
brief. They get caught up in the wave of emotion that
follows when the field goal is good, or blocked, or
the touchdown scored, or the end zone protected. It's
the kicker or quarterback that gets carried off the
field, and rightfully so, but it's the guy that made
the touchdown saving tackle, or the key block to open
up the hole, that makes Alabama football so damn
wonderful.
So damn wonderful.
Football is a team sport. It is a drama that is played
out over the course of an hour, but it's made up of
quick moments that turn goats to heroes.
It's moments like these that etch the names of Alabama
football players in the aura and tradition that makes
this program so special.
I bring all this up because I was thinking about Stacy
Harrison earlier today.
Do you remember Stacy Harrison?
He played defensive back at the Capstone in the early
90s. Wore #1. He was a solid performer. Not that big.
Not that fast. At the beginning of the 1990 season he
had taken his share of heat, just like every other
player that wore Crimson and White. Bama had a new
coach and had lost three games (by a total of eight
points). The games they'd won were not that impressive
(victories over Vanderbilt never are). The offense was
too conservative, the defense couldn't stop anybody.
In fact, they couldn't even stop a high school team
(insert Lee Corso reference here). Alabama was
expected to roll right over and die against a superior
team from Knoxville that year. The coach would be run
out of town, Bama would suffer a losing season. All
hope was lost.
Somebody forgot to tell Stacy Harrison.
With :48 seconds left in a 6-6 ballgame Tennessee
lined up for what would be a game winning field goal.
Bama had blown yet another game.
Somebody forgot to tell Stacy Harrison.
Somebody forgot to block Stacy Harrison.
The painting shows Phillip Doyle booting the game
winning field goal, but if you look closely, standing
on the sidelines you see #1, and you remember. You
remember that winning big games in big settings is
about big time players stepping up and making big time
plays. It's about never letting down, never taking a
play off. It's about holding the block for one second
longer than you usually do or laying out for that pass
that's usually out of reach. It's about patience and
pride and determination. It's about wrapping up. It's
about staying focused. It's about respect.
And it's about guys that fight hard enough, stay with
it long enough, and believe in themselves and the guys
around them enough that they find themselves in the
right position, at the right time, to make the tackle,
or get out of bounds, or block the kick.
"I was determined to block that field goal. There was
no way I was going to let Alabama lose."
No way.
No way.
All Alabama did after that game (a game that was
supposed to mark the end of life as we know it) was
win 35 of their next 39 ballgames.
This is the Third Saturday in October. That means
something folks. It meant something to our
grandfathers. It meant something to our fathers. It's
sacred. It's pure. It's beautiful. It's Crimson and
Orange. It's Bryant and Neyland. It's Alabama and
Tennessee.
And I love it.
I love it.
I love it so much I can't stand to think about it
because all I want to do is get up, hand in my
resignation, fill up the gas tank, put on my 'Nothing
Sucks Like A Big Orange' t-shirt and make that
wonderful drive down the road to the most beautiful
campus in the land, walk to the Quad and yell at the
top of my lungs: I HATE TENNESSEE!
And I'm going to die if it doesn't hurry up and get
here.
This is a chance to make things right. It's a chance
for some guy in a Crimson jersey to put disappointing
seasons and losses behind him and do something.
It's why I'm sitting here thinking of Stacy Harrison.
It's a chance to become part of Alabama lore.
We need to let Tennessee know what it means to play
Alabama.
It's about tradition.
It's about memories.
And it's about the future.
I can't wait.
I can't freakin' WAIT!

In case your not fired up enough already I offer the
following example of what it means when Alabama plays
Tennessee. It's a quote from Tennessee lineman Bull
Bayer about Bama All-American Bully Van de Graaf who
lined up opposite him in the 1913 Bama-UT game: "His
ear had a real nasty cut and it was dangling from his
head, bleeding badly. He grabbed his own ear and tried
to yank it from his head. His teammates stopped him
and the managers bandaged him. Man was that guy a
tough one. He wanted to tear off his own ear so he
could keep playing."

Oh My God! Somebody call a doctor! I'm about to have a
stroke!
I'll meet you on the Quad in two hours.
I HATE TENNESSEE. YOU SHOULD TOO.
ROLL DAMN TIDE!