Alabama-Tennessee: Quest for Silence

When you take a road trip as a fan, you dream about moments like these. Four seconds to play, a hated rival on the ropes, your team lined up for a final play with victory or defeat hinging entirely on that one play. After over three hours of even football, it all comes down to this one final snap. And you want one thing more than any other: complete silence to soak through the stadium while your team pours onto the field in celebration, their celebratory shouts no louder than the dribble of a basketball on a court hundreds of yards away, echoing over the stunned home crowd. For a moment you might even contemplate, like I did, simply closing your eyes and allowing the crowd reaction to tell the story of the field goal. But instead, I watched.

Tennessee came achingly close on Saturday to delivering the most agonizing loss to Alabama at Bryant-Denny Stadium in a couple of decades, maybe ever. But then they ran into a mountain of a man.

1. At nine in the morning, I gather with 20 others in a Birmingham, Alabama parking lot for a trip to Tuscaloosa. There is one other Tennessee fan, Mondelli. We're both wearing orange pants.

Memphis radio host Chris Vernon aka Verno and Lance Taylor of Birmingham's Roundtable Radio are also on the bus/limo. Everyone else is a diehard Bama fan. Although, to be fair, Verno is wearing a Julio Jones jersey and every five minutes will, unprovoked, scream out "Juuuuuulioooooooo," as loud as he can.

In between Julio calls, Verno is apt to say things like this,"Nick Saban is a God." He also tells me that he just came from Chik-Fil-a where an Alabama fan with three children, ages 4, 3, and 1, admonished his two daughters who were walking as they neared the parking lot. "Now take my hand, girls, there's lots of Tennessee fans in town today and those people don't think."

2. The bus/limo seats 13 people. There are 21 of us. And beer and liquor. Lots of beer and liquor. The bus/limo also looks like the inside of a strip club. There are several poles hanging down, constantly moving lasers of different colors, and a sound system that would make a rap star blush. Immediately the music is blaring and the drinking commences.

3. Our trip to Tuscaloosa takes over two hours. Included is a stop at a rest area so the women can go to the bathroom.

Who knew there was a rest area between Birmingham and Tuscaloosa?

I don't have to go to the bathroom at all, but there's no real wait and we're making this stop solely for a trip to the bathroom. I sit debating whether I should go or not, access vs. breaking the seal. Ultimately I opt for a trip to the bathroom.

Bad decision.

As we walk back from the bathroom, a couple from Michigan, inexplicably choosing today of all days to drive somewhere other than to the football game on 459, call out, "Y'all are going to miss the Michigan State-Iowa game tonight."

They're attempting to be funny. Several Alabama fans fail to see the humor.

"They play football outside the South?" one asks.
I finally turn my phone back on and it's flooded with emails and texts. I can't bear to read any of them. I'm not even sure what I can take from any of this. The game is still so close, the feel of the loss so suffocating. At least I get to keep my beard.

4. Back on the bus, one of the women, now standing and dancing to 50 cent's Magic Stick -- the affinity that younger, white SEC fans have for gangsta rap on gameday is drastically underrated, it turns into Compton in Tuscaloosa -- takes a photo of the front of the bus, where I'm sitting alongside the other UT fan.

Five minutes later, she calls out, "Hey, my friend just texted me and asked who the convicts were."

5. That would be us, the UT convicts, riding along, according to many Alabama fans, to our own execution chamber, Bryant-Denny Stadium.

But as I've been writing all week, I'm optimistic that Tennessee will play Alabama close throughout, that it will be a single-digit game.

My predictions are met with cat-calls. "Get your razor ready," says Verno.

6. Honest question, what percentage of Alabama fan's love affair with Julio Jones is related to the alliteration and melodic way that Julio rolls off the tongue if you have a Southern accent? Especially given the fact that he hasn't been that productive?

Hearing someone with a Southern accent pronounce the name Julio Jones makes me cringe at the thought that Ron Franklin and Keith Jackson no longer do SEC games.

How awesome would it be if for the SEC Championship game if the SEC managed to get those two guys in the booth? It's a shame that Julio Jones can't tackle Tim Tebow in that game. I think every Southerner would shed a tear over hearing Jackson or Franklin intone, "Julio Jones brings down Tim Tebow in the open field."

Shakespeare meets pigskin, my friends, Shakespeare meets pigskin.

Anyway, the fascination with his name notwithstanding, so far this season, in seven games, Jones has only 13 catches for 175 yards. That's less production than Tennessee's Gerald Jones has provided in five games.

But, to be fair, Gerald Jones is nowhere near as fun to say as Julio Jones.

7. As we near Tuscaloosa, my bladder suddenly feels like it's going to explode. Like if I don't urinate at this exact second, I'm going to open the door to the bus/limo and pee out the door as we drive through campus. Don't pretend you didn't do this for six years during college, Bama fans.

My bladder has only failed me like this once before, at the 2007 Cocktail Party.

And I know what you're thinking, both times you had way too much to drink before the game. Not true, both times, for whatever reason, I simply had to go to the bathroom a ton. And without warning.

Like immediately.

As we idle in traffic alongside Galette's, I make a bold decision.

"Open the door," I say, bailing out onto the street. Four others follow me in a mad dash for the bathroom, abandoning the bus/limo in the process.

The line is short and by the time we've finished I feel like I just finished a drive with four consecutive fourth down conversions.

8. We tailgate on the 'Bama quad.

For years 'Bama didn't allow the quad to be used for tailgating, and now that they do, it's a pretty amazing setting. You're within a JaMarcus Russell fly pattern pass from the football stadium, pretty much everyone is welcoming, and the trees climb high into the air providing a welcoming canopy of shade in the early season but still allowing room for sunlight in the late fall. It's a near-perfect setting, Tuscaloosa's own Grove.

As I'm walking around taking in the scenery, a man approaches wearing bright crimson pants. Given that I'm wearing orange pants, I feel an acknowledgment of sorts is in order. But before I can speak, he does.

"Clay Travis!"

We shake hands. His name is Chris M. "Don't take this the wrong way, and I'm not gay, but you're better looking in person than you are on the Internet."

The only other person to ever say this is my mom.

9. Early in the late-morning, Vol and Bammers are in joint agreement on one thing -- rooting for the sun to emerge from the clouds. The sunshine is sporadic, when it emerges the weather is perfect, warm but not yet, when it vanishes there's a cold wind and everyone stands with their arms crossed.

As kickoff nears we head for the stadium walking through the quad. Denny Chimes is to our right, the sun, as if on order from God, who is doubtlessly an SEC football fan given his gifts of ample cleavage, tiny waists, and long legs that he has bestowed upon the women of the South, brings on the sunshine.

Suddenly everything is bathed in bright light.

10. Now comes the only negative of the trip, fat sorority girls from Alabama stand alongside the brick walkway taunting Tennessee fans with witty banter as we pass.

"F--- You, Vols," they call. Then they liven up the insults with, "Volun-queers!" chants.

I pause in front of them for a second. "It's not our fault you're fat," I say.

11. Inside the stadium we're sixteen rows up at midfield. Tip of the beaver pelt cap to Lance Taylor for these seats. There are hardly any fans in orange anywhere near us. Now let's get rolling on game observations.

12. The stirrings of discomfort begin early in the stadium when Eric Berry nearly decapitates Greg McElroy on the first series of the game. Bama punts, and Tennessee gets a great punt return and immediately drives to the Bama 35 thanks to a third down conversion from Jonathan Crompton to Denarius Moore.

From here Bama buckles down and forces a punt, but the tone of the game has been set, the Vols haven't come to merely stay alive.

By the time Tennessee stops Alabama on fourth down during the Crimson Tide's second drive, there are genuine murmurs of discomfort in Bryant-Denny.

13. You know how you can tell things are going poorly for the home team?

A guy gets tackled near the sideline and the crowd screams for a late hit personal foul. A guy gets tackled by the shoulder pad and everyone screams for the face mask call.

Put another way, all of last season, the only way Tennessee could gain 15 yards on an offensive play was via personal foul. I found myself actually rooting for face masks and late hits as the ball was snapped.

In case you were wondering, last year aged me 15 years.

14. During a long commercial break, they pipe in Justin Timberlake's Sexy Back. My fellow UT pants-wearing compatriot, Matt, turns to me, "What do you think the Bear would have thought of them playing Sexy Back during timeouts?"

We ask, Chief, a Bama fan sitting next to us who will consume an entire fifth of Bourbon during the game. At one point he shares a drink with me. It's Bourbon on ice. A full cup.

It's what I imagine gasoline tastes like.

He thinks for a moment. "The Bear was a great modernizer," he says. "He would have loved Sexy Back. Plus, he liked asses."

I nod.

"On women, now," he says.

15. On the Vols' second possession, Crompton makes his only bad throw of the game; he airmails a pass that is picked off by 'Bama.

On the radio, I promised to go shirtless if Crompton threw four picks in this game, as Chris Vernon asserted that he would. "That's one," says Vernon.

On the ensuing drive 'Bama puts up a 38-yard field goal for a 3-0 lead.

16. But Tennessee responds and is at the Bama 33 facing a 2nd-and-3 as the first quarter ends. Shortly thereafter Crompton comes up big again, hitting Moore for 19 yards and a first and goal at the Bama 8. From there the Vols gain two yards but settle for a field goal.

We're tied at 3.

17. Bama drives the field, stalls, but bangs through a 50-yarder. During this time my seat compatriot in orange pants, Mondelli, turns to the Bama fans behind us and asks why they cheer every first down by the Crimson Tide so loudly.

"You're Alabama," he says, "you don't need to do that. The only other place I've seen it is West Virginia."

"Ole Miss does it," says the Bama fan.

"So you copied it from Ole Miss?" I ask.

"I don't really like it all," says the Bama fan.

18. Now comes Bama's best drive of the day, McElroy is 4-of-4 passing and Mark Ingram rips off runs of 5, 7, 4, 4, 4, and 8. Many of these runs come from the Wildcat formation. The final of these Ingram rushes gives Bama a 2nd-and-2 from the Vol 4. Not only is Bama just four yards from paydirt, but they can get a first down at the two. Surely they'll run the ball on every play from here.

Not hardly.

Inexplicably, Bama passes on second and third down before settling for the field goal. The last pass draws a chorus of boos from the crowd around me, but from my position it looks like the Tennessee defensive back is playing the fade and beats Jones to the place on the field.

Which makes me wonder, why not run the slant there if you're Jones and you see the the defensive back is playing your route?

19. Anyway, the Bama fans around me are furious that Bama didn't keep running the football.

"What the f--- are we doing?" asks my seatmate as he stares morosely at his bourbon on ice.

20. Speaking of the running backs in this game, don't Mark Ingram, Trent Richardson, and Bryce Brown sound like kicker names instead of running backs? They sound like part of the pledge class for Bama's SAE's. If Montario Hardesty's first name was Shelby, we'd have the most unlikely running back quad in Alabama-Tennessee history.

21. My Vols take the ball with 1:11 remaining and with possession coming to them to begin the second half, and in credit to Lane Kiffin's aggressiveness, attempt to score late in the half. Crompton hits four consecutive passes for 30 yards total before Daniel Lincoln trots on the field to attempt a 47 yarder that would slice the Bama lead to 9-6.

He misses. Short.

I'm not sure I've ever seen a 47-yard field goal come up short in a big college contest. Especially not without major wind issues.

22. At halftime, Bama's Million Dollar Band takes the field.

It's time for a rename. Back in 1922 when the band got their name, a million dollars was a lot of money. Now it's one-quarter of what Alabama pays Nick Saban every year.

Allow me to suggest a rebranding, The Billion Dollar Band.

23. Throughout the third quarter, Tennessee dominates. Bama has just two possessions, both end without a first down and total 16 yards of offense. Meanwhile, Tennessee has two long drives. the first comes to a close after a perfect call on a Javier Arenas blitz sets the Vols up with a 3rd-and-22.

But as the third quarter ends, Tennessee is driving: The final play of the quarter is a 30-yard gain from Crompton to Denarius Moore.

For just a moment silence descends on Bryant-Denny as Tennessee stands at the 'Bama 30 and allows the clock to wind down to end the quarter.

I close my eyes for an instant and savor what I hope is a preview of the end of the game.

24. After another fourth down conversion, the Vols have a first-and-10 at the Alabama 19. Now issues arise, first a false start and then a critical holding penalty that turns a 3rd-and-4 into a 2nd-and-18. Bama's crowd roars, a desperate, from the bit of the belly, this can't be happening to us roar, the animalistic growl of a grizzly bear who has been wounded.

Nothing develops on third down and Tennessee sends out Lincoln to attempt a 43-yarder.

Blocked!

I sink to my seat with my head in my hands. Two missed field goals.

25. On Terrence Cody, is anybody else going to be surprised when, 15 years from now, Sports Illustrated does a, "Where are they now?" story on Cody and he weighs 551 pounds?

Remember the Buster Douglas story they did back then?

And the picture of Douglas standing in his garage with a huge shadow around him?

I'm picturing the same story on Cody. But for now he's a svelte 350 and the center of the Vols' line can't block him.

26. With good field position at its own 38, Bama manages its first first down of the half. From here the drive stalls at the 32, but Leigh Tiffin, Bama's offensive MVP, slips a 49-yard field goal just over the top of the crossbar to give the Tide a 12-3 advantage.

I groan as Bama fans around me cheer.

27. Tennessee goes three and out, punts, and after Mark Ingram almost busts a big play but is caught by the ankles, Bama is forced to punt.

Only, we rough the punter.

I text a Bama friend congrats on the win and stand looking out at the field. All, it would seem that is necessary now is for 'Bama to put the game on ice.

Certainly the Bama keyboardist thinks so, a single verse of "Hey, hey goodbye," blares out over the stadium.

But then, something magical happens for Vol fans -- Eric Berry forces and recovers a fumble from Mark Ingram, the first of Ingram's career at Alabama.

28. Crompton, who I incorrectly called for Lane Kiffin to bench after the Auburn game, jogs back onto the field and performs magically, completing four consecutive passes on the drive, the last of which is an 11-yard touchdown to Gerald Jones. Suddenly it's 12-10 Alabama and Tennessee is lining up for an onside kick.

29. I turn to my Bama seatmate. "I don't remember the last time I saw an onside kick recovered by the kicking team," I say.

"Don't you go there jinxing things," he says.

You guessed it, Tennessee recovers.

30. I climb onto the seat in front of me and scream as loudly as I can. Suddenly my stomach feels like it's full of air. Tension builds. A longed-for victory is so close we can taste it. Many of the UT players are standing on the sideline bench, swinging towels and bounding in unison along the green grass between snaps.

Now Crompton takes the field. Crompton, who last season went from Jesus to the Anti-Christ in a month; Crompton, who received death threats from Vol fans; Crompton, who has kept his mouth shut about his receivers running the wrong routes, who has refused to make excuses about any of the failures surrounding the Vols, has a chance to lead Tennessee to their most improbable victory in program history.

Not since 1985 has Tennessee beaten a No. 1 team. Then Tennessee triumphed over Auburn and Bo Jackson. Never, in the long and storied history of Tennessee football, have the Vols beaten a No. 1 team on the road, and never, ever, have they beaten a No. 1-ranked Alabama team.

Slowly, inexorably, in a way that seems ordained, Crompton leads the Vols down the field. He completes two passes, the first to Gerald Jones for 15 yards. But it's the second completion that appears likely to loom large in Vol-Bama lore for decades. Facing a 2nd-and-15 from his own 50, Crompton hits his streaking tight end, Luke Stocker, with a perfect pass. A pass, catch, and hit so exquisite that for a moment Alabama fans are entirely silent. It's a pass that few quarterbacks in America could make. And it's that reason why, and this is hard to believe, Crompton has been the best quarterback in the SEC over the past three weeks.

I explode with glee, leaping on my seat, hammering my seat-mate, the only sound of joy in an ocean of crimson silence around us. Now, improbably, amazingly, the Vols have a chance to win a game, to score 10 points in less than a minute and a half, to beat a bitter rival on the road, to change the entire trajectory of Crompton's career with one sweet swing of the foot.

31. Staring potential victory in the face, Kiffin, who has already gone for it on fourth down twice in the second half, goes conservative and sends Montario Hardesty on a running play. The clock dwindles now, Crompton stands over center and grounds the football.

Daniel Lincoln, 1-of-3 on the day, jogs onto the field, 44 yards from Vol immortality.

There are only four seconds remaining on the clock.

For a moment I flash back to 1990, the last time Tennessee attempted a winning field goal in the fourth quarter against Alabama. Then, Bama blocked the kick, recovered, and made their own kick for a 9-6 victory. Now, the Vols have a chance to erase that sick feeling, sweep into Tuscaloosa and deliver one of the greatest victories in team history.

Saban takes a timeout.

I sink to my seat, a Vol surrounded by a sea of crimson. Hardly anyone speaks during the timeout.

It may be the fourth Saturday in October, but this epic game, this game so even that only four seconds remain and victory or defeat hangs on a foot, will stand alongside others as among the greatest ever played. Not for the offensive explosions or the big plays that make highlight reels but for the grimy, hard-charging, slamming football that both teams delivered on play-after-play. The kind of Tennessee-Alabama game, that as Bear Bryant said, makes you a man.

If you've ever wondered whether something ugly can be beautiful, this game answered it resoundingly ... yes.

Now, in the fading light of an October afternoon comes the quest for silence. For a moment I close my eyes and picture the scene, the field flooded in celebrating orange players, the angry detritus tumbling to the ground in the stadium, red and white pompons, old drinks, Bama Bangs pushed back on disbelieving foreheads, the sodden underground concrete of home football defeat. The ball is snapped, foot meets ball, and immediately the ball ricochets backward.

It's 1990 all over again.

Only this time with two blocked fourth quarter field goals instead of one.

I stand without moving as the stadium erupts around me. Look for Crompton on the sideline, feel awful for him, worse for him than for anyone in orange. This should have been, this could have been, his ultimate validation for five years of effort, for five years of criticism, his moment in the orange sun.

Alongside me my fellow orange-pant wearing compatriot has but two words, "Well, damn," he says, so softly I can barely hear him over the noise.

We make the long walk back to the tailgate, through throngs of Bama fans celebrating with delirious glee. On up past Denny Chimes, along the brick sidewalk Bama fans greet each other with, "Roll Tide Roll," and exult in the cool night air, an improbable mosh-pit screaming, improbably, "Hotel, Motel, Holiday Inn," as they dance to Pitbull's song.

Change one play, and all around me is silent.

I finally turn my phone back on and it's flooded with emails and texts. I can't bear to read any of them. I'm not even sure what I can take from any of this. The game is still so close, the feel of the loss so suffocating. At least I get to keep my beard.

"Hey," says an elderly Bama fan grabbing me by the shoulder, "you played Tennessee football today. Goddamn Tennessee football," he says.

And maybe that's the real lesson out of all of this. After all the attention and all the words, the slings and arrows of recruiting wars, when you get right down to it, Kiffin coached in his first Alabama-Tennessee game and looked an awful lot like the men who were successful in the Alabama series before him. Men like Phil Fulmer and General Neyland. Ultimately, what's new is old at Tennessee. Kiffin's team wasn't flashy and it didn't always execute perfectly, but it never quit.

And in this series, for both team and fan alike, the only thing that unites fans in orange and crimson is this -- we admire players, coaches, and people who never stop fighting, never stop trying to take that hill, even if, as we saw on Saturday, sometimes a mountain is directly in front of the ball.

In the end, Lane Kiffin's boys didn't quit, and someday soon, that is going to make all the difference.

Clay Travis is the author of three books. His latest, "On Rocky Top: A Front Row Seat to The End of an Era" chronicles the 2008 Tennessee football season and is on sale now.