My struggles with depression have not been a secret.
It is a constant battle, sitting on my shoulder, an ever morphing "something" whispering in my ear... but I'll tell you one of the things that can shew that little creature off my shoulder is Alabama Football.
Just saying "Roll Tide" out loud, even if I'm the only one that hears it, lightens my step and brings a smile to a sometimes tear-stained face.
We are weeks away from what many would call THE most wonderful time of the year. It is a time of renewal; of convergence of both types of blood relatives, red and crimson; a like-minded physical and spiritual gathering - a gridiron revival meetin', if you will.
Being a "bury me with my boots on" Texan runs neck and neck with my "Roll Tide" passion. I love both so very much but I dare say that as much as I love my motherland that Crimson and White might overshadow the beloved Texas Star on my funereal wreaths, and not just because I live here now and lived there way back when...but I must admit I'm thankful that crimson and white isn't far from, especially by those with faded vision like me, the ol' red, white and blue of the greater good and the once separate country in which I was lucky enough to be born and raised.
Don't get me wrong, I love that my beloved homeland paints their red-white-blue-single-star-studded-state flag on everything that sits still long enough to be painted. I do love that, I really do, but just a glimpse of that Alabama "A" or a whispered "Roll Tide" under a stranger's nod at a foreign airport like La Guardia sends chills up my spine. It is a pride that goes beyond a sport or shall I say sports, particularly with 4 national championships under our belt this very year of our Lord 2012.
No, it is more than that. It is a feeling so hard to describe, a need to be a part of something bigger. I remember a similar but not so strong a feeling after I moved to Tuscaloosa when I would see a Texas license plate on the vehicle, particularly a pickup, in front of me. I often wondered if I knew the person, suddenly feeling a kinship as if I'd just found a long lost relative. It is the feeling of connectedness, whether experienced first hand as a student and later an alumni; or simply as one who has chosen the allegiance as a graduate of the school of you better believe it; or by those who grew up in a household that worshiped at the church of "Bear and his Saints."
I don't think it is any coincidence that The Bear and Stallings both have Texas as part of their through-line, kinda even makes me even more of gritty royalty, don't you think?
So, the blues that are so hard to shake off are slowly being painted over by Crimson and will soon be engulfed in the saturated hues of stadium white lights.
Sometimes I join the throngs that ritually gather each fall - first in small groups with the most kindred spirits like those of us that meet at Rowand-Johnson; who merge with the larger membership onto the sacred Quad; and finally ride the wave to join the other one-hundred plus thousand who worship in the house of Bryant-Denny with Saban as our pastor. While amongst those present at the revival, during commercial time-outs we often reach out with our cellular arms to those less fortunate who can't be with us in body but can truly be felt in spirit, texting "Roll Tide" and "Rammer-Jammer." We relay the gospel according to Eli and recount testimonies of the many who were washed by the Crimson blood.
These days most sacred Saturdays I chose to home-church even though I am mere miles from the open-air temple . I must admit I actually prefer my gospel in air-conditioned HD. But nothing, I mean nothing, even gourmet snacks on a five-star gold-rimmed platter can beat a stadium dog while watching the Million-Dollar Band spell out B-A-M-A. And of course the chill that comes when you hear the familiar music and see on the big screens the legends of the Fall that lead up to those big beefy Bama boys running out of that tunnel with "I ain't never been nothin' but a winner" ringing in their ears. Why then do I not always join the masses you ask? There are many reasons really - heat, bad back, exhaustion, parking, but none of those have ever truly stopped me if I feel the call. No, mostly because I like the comfort of my trademark PJ's and the relatively new "rewind" capability of live cable TV. I like to see the game up close and personal, but mostly it allows me to scream my favorite choice words into the void where only a handful are highly offended. Sorry Mother, I can't help it. I just hate (fill in team of the week here).
So, I feel less blue than I did yesterday and even the threat of a hurricane or tropical storm can't dampen my spirits because it is almost time for Alabama Football (insert elephant trumpet here)!
As a post script, it does make me a little sad that I can't afford to see the Tide play in Cowboy Stadium. I mean that IS kind of the ultimate experience for this Texas RoTider, but the Cowboys have played so badly that it is almost embarrassing to claim it as my home turf...almost. I must admit that giant Jerry Jones big screen would actually be the best of both worlds, but only if I could wear my trademark houndstooth pajamas under the stars at night that are so big and bright.
Roll Tide Y'all. Roll Tide!
