My son is 13 and we’ve been debating which one of these games to go to. He’s never been to an away game. I’ve never seen Georgia play Bama in person.
This seems like it would be an obvious choice, go to the home game vs. Bama, right?
It goes deeper than that. Sometimes I feel it necessary to point out reasons why I hate other teams. Living just outside of Chattanooga there are plenty of vile fans lurking around waiting for any reason to throw on the orange wind breakers and yell Rocky Top.
Periodically I have to explain the 1990s to my son and how we endured that painful losing streak, and I have to explain to him why we stormed the field in 2000.
Sometimes in life a kid needs to witness (in person) why things are the way they are. If I can take him to Neyland and get him hating every shade of orange there is, if I can catch him out of the corner of my eye looking around saying to himself, “Lord, have I fallen into a fold in time back to 1980s Appalachia family reunion”? I will be happy with myself. This needs to be done. He needs to see the disgust with his own two eyes. He needs to be crammed into a seat that measures approximately 10” wide next to Billy Bob Ray and Dixie Sue while they scream with pent-up anger:
V………. O………. L………. S……….
V… O… L… S…
V-O-L-S Go Vols Go!
If he can whisper into me ear at some point while we’re in that God forsaken chit hole, “I hate this place and I hate the Viles”. I’ll be one proud dad
This seems like it would be an obvious choice, go to the home game vs. Bama, right?
It goes deeper than that. Sometimes I feel it necessary to point out reasons why I hate other teams. Living just outside of Chattanooga there are plenty of vile fans lurking around waiting for any reason to throw on the orange wind breakers and yell Rocky Top.
Periodically I have to explain the 1990s to my son and how we endured that painful losing streak, and I have to explain to him why we stormed the field in 2000.
Sometimes in life a kid needs to witness (in person) why things are the way they are. If I can take him to Neyland and get him hating every shade of orange there is, if I can catch him out of the corner of my eye looking around saying to himself, “Lord, have I fallen into a fold in time back to 1980s Appalachia family reunion”? I will be happy with myself. This needs to be done. He needs to see the disgust with his own two eyes. He needs to be crammed into a seat that measures approximately 10” wide next to Billy Bob Ray and Dixie Sue while they scream with pent-up anger:
V………. O………. L………. S……….
V… O… L… S…
V-O-L-S Go Vols Go!
If he can whisper into me ear at some point while we’re in that God forsaken chit hole, “I hate this place and I hate the Viles”. I’ll be one proud dad
