A Gator To Hate

As I make my first contribution to this fine column of college football excitement, I believed a bit of disclosure was necessary. I am a member of quite an obnoxious lot. We wear abrasive colors and drink heavily. Mere mortals are canonized without even a short meeting with the Pope. More savage than a bunch of republicans force fed Dixie Chicks for two hours. Especially fond of reptiles. I am a Gator, and in the South it is a pastime like no other to hate the Gators. Even my close friends secretly hate me. But we have become the stuff of Urban legend and I wanted to clear up a few misconceptions about our lot.

We can be killed by a silver bullet, but only if it has been dipped in holy water. We do steal a child from a neighboring community of Bulldogs or Volunteers on Confederate History Day, but we won't kill it. We make it go on beer runs. Yet we are humble people. Our loud drunkenness is only one of many ways to watch College Football. Some in Mississippi like to come to games as if they were coming to church dressed in their Saturday best. In North Carolina they sit in the stands in amazement at how they got the ball all oblong. In Hawaii they play it next to lava. I don't really know if they do or not, but that's the way I'm going to imagine every box score from the Mountain West next season. Gainesville though is the center of the College Sports world, but that will not last forever. The good times will someday be over, as they are for Notre Dame, but I will live in the moment and hope not to be too obnoxious.