Raise 'em right.
I’ve heard it anyplace there’s a jukebox and a spare quarter. From dancehalls in Kenya to pubs in the south of New Zealand; from London to Londonderry; from New England to New Albany. It’s not just a song of the South, but a song of homecoming. When all the voices join together, pining for the place where skies are blue, this Alabamian knows just where the road home begins. New Timber in the shop tonight.
We pull for losers. But isn’t that the reality? Our team – college if we're southern, pro if we’re not – can't always be the victor. Some years they might be. Some decades they might be. But far more times than not, they ain’t. But if we Believe, we believe that we won. That the one victory that matters was already claimed. And that’s bigger than any trophy that our boys might hoist. Though for real, I wish my boys in Oxford would hoist one already.
"I wish I could say that I went in and ran for the winning touchdown, but I did not. I simply stood by in case my team needed me." -E. King Gill January, 1922. Coach Dana X. Bible and The Agricultural and Mechanical College of Texas are getting beat up – Centre College is taking it to the boys from A&M in the Dixie Classic. Fearing that he is running out of men, Coach looks up into the stand. Squints. Yells up and gets E. King Gill. He runs down and puts on the uniform of an injured boy. It's sweaty and bloody and doesn't fit at all, but Gill's been called to go in for a family in need. The Aggies prevail. Gill is the only player left standing on the sideline. Almost a century later, the A&M faithful haven't sat down yet.