By Walt Barron: A close, personal friend to Rocky Top Insider, Barron is a lifelong Vol fan who will travel when he can but mostly cheers for the Big Orange from his home in Durham, NC.
Like so many Tennessee-Alabama matchups, this last one had a Greek tragedy’s supply of drama…
Both teams had turnovers in the red zone in the first quarter alone.
Twenty-six penalties.
Will Brooks’ first game-saving play, a shoestring tackle of QB Jalen Milroe.
Nico Iamaleava’s inauspicious start, then injury, then inauspicious return and dead-duck INT.
Nico’s second-half surge, including a clutch run (with an all-time ball fake) and dazzling throws to Dont’e Thornton Jr. and Chris Brazzell II.
That weird substitution/fake injury play that Kalen DeBoer is still fuming about.
Will Brooks’ second game-saving play, a pick that soon will be turned into a pic, likely framed and immortalized with those classic paint brushstrokes.
I didn’t even mention Max Gilbert’s clutch bounce-back field goal, or Jermod McCoy’s stunning interception, or Boo Carter luring Alabama wide receiver Kendrick Law into a backbreaking unsportsmanlike penalty with the game on the line. Or the fact that there were five lead changes. Or the rumors of piped-in crowd noise. LOL.
And yet, after all this, I have to admit I was a little surprised when a friend sent me a picture that his daughter, a junior at UT, took of fans pouring onto Shields-Watkins field and subsequently taking down the goalposts.
“Didn’t we just do this?” I thought to myself.
You know what I’m talking about. Two years ago, same spot, same opponent. Except that time both teams were undefeated and ranked in the top six. It was Tennessee’s first win against a Nick Saban-coached team. And it was a wild west shootout that ended after Alabama missed a game-winning field goal attempt with 21 seconds left, only to see Tennessee complete two quick passes in a row and set up a walk-off, wobbly 40-yard game-winner.
52-49, Vols win.
Storm the field? Absolutely.
But did this past Saturday’s game deserve the same?
Many Vol fans shared their dismay on social media and Vol Calls that we weren’t more dignified. The team at SEC Shorts mocked our fans for going overboard in this comical skit.
I felt the same way. And with good reason.
First off, storming the field is expensive. It will cost the University of Tennessee $100,000 in fines from the Southeastern Conference, and another $40,000 or so to replace the goalposts.
Second, it’s dangerous. Opposing players and coaches are in harm’s way when tens of thousands of jacked-up fans come streaming in their path, which puts the fans in danger, too.
But perhaps what I’m thinking most is that it feels a little weak and desperate. I was even repeating a familiar mantra – “Act like we’ve been there before!”
Then, while looking for game highlights on YouTube, I stumbled across this 7-minute video that I learned after the fact was created and posted by RTI’s very own Ric Butler. There’s no narration or no graphics. It’s simply footage (with great ambient sound) of Ric walking across the crowded field as fans pour onto it. At the risk of painting an imperfect picture, I encourage you to just watch it yourself.
I watched the whole dang thing. And with each passing minute, each embrace, each cigar lit and selfie taken and chorus of “Dixieland Delight” sung, my perspective completely shifted – from my current risk-averse near-50-year-old self to a much younger version of myself.
I attended a whole lot of great Tennessee football and basketball games growing up in Knoxville in the 1980s and early 1990s. But I never got to storm the field or court once.
Until September 19, 1998, that is. The Vols had lost five straight to the hated Florida Gators and their needling, evil genius coach, Steve Spurrier. I was in Neyland Stadium that night when Florida’s kicker missed the would-be game-tying field goal in overtime. Fueled by exuberance and an unformed frontal lobe, I didn’t think but simply reacted. I hopped the wall and ran on the field, hugging any stranger or player I could. It was electric. I’ll never forget it.
Now that my frontal lobe is fully formed, I can affirm that if given the chance, I would do it all over. And with good reason.
Financially, I bet the marketing value of all these postgame videos and images will far exceed the $100,000 fine the university will pay the conference. Turn any 10 seconds of this video into a TikTok, provide a link, and watch applications continue to skyrocket. Plus, one Vol fan had a brilliant creative suggestion to make even more hay from this – chop up the torn-down goalposts and auction them off for Hurricane Helene relief efforts.
In terms of health and safety, why not employ security personnel not to try to keep fans off the field, but rather to help the opposing team and coaches safely get off it? Surely we can do that, right?
And then there’s this. I was not there, but I spoke to a close friend who was. He said it was impossible to overstate the anxiety that pulsed through the stadium at the half. A team that, just a few short weeks ago, was a media darling and a sexy dark horse pick to contend for the national championship had just strung together its third consecutive scoreless first half. A team that, just a few short weeks ago, looked like it was destined for greatness suddenly looked like it was destined for the Music City Bowl. Led by a quarterback who, just a few short weeks ago, was touted as the next can’t-miss kid, yet he was suddenly doing just that. Repeatedly. And to multiple receivers.
To have all that turn on a dime with what was perhaps this team’s finest half, fueled by an unexpected offensive outburst, and punctuated by a walk-on from Birmingham stepping on Darth Vader’s throat? Seems like cause for celebration to me.
Seen this way, storming the field Saturday wasn’t a sign of weakness or desperation. It was proof of a type of passion that can be a little messy but is also unique to the college experience. And in an era of NIL deals, corporate sponsorships, and 10% talent fees (none of which I’m arguing against here), we should be protecting the parts of college sports that still make it distinct from professional sports.
So who am I to tell a Vol fan at that game Saturday night – who may or may not have been there in 2022 – that they shouldn’t have stormed the field after beating Alabama for just the second time in the past 18 seasons? Actually, who am I to say when they should or shouldn’t savor any big win this way?
Maybe we should all just let the spirit move us, as it did for me back in 1998.
Because who knows when – or if – we’ll get another chance?
