There was, undoubtedly, no bigger celebration in the country this past Saturday than the one in Auburn, Alabama. The small Alabama town might be located in the Bible belt, but even the second coming of Christ wouldn’t elicit a celebration quite like the one that began as soon as the Iron Bowl ended with one of the great miracles in American sports history. That play to end the game was like if Bill Buckner and The Miracle on Ice got drunk and made a baby. And, if we’re being honest, that field goal return was probably a more impressive miracle than Jesus floating back down to Earth from Heaven. Plus, defeating the devil is basically just as good as meeting God, so there’s that.
I put out a call to Auburn fans to send me their celebration stories. Mostly, however, you all failed miserably at responding. I’ll chalk it up to the fact that y’all killed so many brain cells that you forgot how to write. For that, I do not blame you. Were it me in your shoes, my Monday BAC would still be higher than my team’s final score, and I’d be writing this story in crayon…on my computer screen.
One reader, however, was nice to send in their game day story straight outta Auburn, and it amused me, so I figured I would share:
I saw your tweet and wanted to tell you mine. After we won the Iron Bowl, we were trying to push down through Greek seating to get on the field. One of the brothers and I were some of the first down there. A security guard tried closing the gate on us, but, with the guy I was with having been an all star hockey player all four years of college, he lowered his shoulder and stunned the security guard. After that I pushed the security guard into the briar bushes surrounding the field and yelled, “No one is stopping us.” About 5 minutes later I was taking a shot of Jack Daniels on the 50 yard line. Easily the best memory out of my 4 years in college.
Those are all kinds of bold moves, and I respect the sick bastards who pulled it off. Granted, shoving your home security guard into some shrubs seems like a really unnecessarily aggressive way to celebrate, but the look on that terrified, middle-aged face as a drunk college kid screamed, “NO ONE IS STOPPING US,” like a berserking Viking with dead, glassy eyes had to be priceless. Remember kids, the right to violent self defense is valid if someone is attacking your right to party.
I would ask where the Jack came from, but as we already know, it apparently wasn’t too hard to get booze into Jordan-Hare Stadium. The more important question is, given the picture of the crowd above, how did you even have room to move your hand to your mouth?