Rivalries bring out the best and the worst in all of us, and the end of college football season is the time when we fans are treated to glorious victory or the sorrowful depths of a rivalry loss. Even when your team is not any good, you still can’t stand to lose that one big game, and if your guys win, it makes your year. I have seen grown men cry over a football game, and proud men humbled. If Mississippi State manages to beat Ole Miss Saturday in Oxford, it will present me much hardship in dealing with many people I grew up with, and it will end my support for David Cutcliffe’s tenure as the Rebel coach. Simple as that.
You’ve got to understand, I run with a pretty rowdy crew on both sides. I have great friends who made the unfortunate decision to go to Mississippi State and subject their emotional well-being to Jackie Sherrill, a man with a proven track record of building a program up before getting out of town two steps in front of the NCAA lawman. I hope they enjoyed themselves during their three good years in the late ‘90s, because this decade hasn’t smiled on them yet. It’s because of these friends of mine that I have so much riding on this Egg Bowl.
You see, each successive year seems to raise the bar for the level of absurd fan behavior associated with the Egg Bowl. Testosterone and alcohol are dangerous bedfellows, and we mix both in ample quantities before this game. I’m not suitable for civilized company any closer to game time than about three hours, and my blind rage at having to be around so many State yokels makes me damn near impossible to deal with at kickoff. I have yet to be arrested or escorted out of a stadium, but I’m on a ticking clock. The sign I carried to the 98 Egg Bowl describing Sherrill as the Devil’s Concubine didn’t get me on ESPN, but did almost get me into several fights. The impending departure of Tommy Tuberville as Ole Miss’ coach combined with being subjected to watching State win the SEC West on Ole Miss’ home turf made Thanksgiving ‘98 one of the worst days of my life. It’s a feeling I’ll not soon forget, and it makes my blood boil as I remember it.
The year before that, in ‘97, Ole Miss scored a last-minute touchdown and made a two-point conversion for a 15-14 win in a game that State dominated. One of my buddies from State was so despondent after watching that he could think of nothing else to do but take his VCR out into the yard and blast it with his shotgun. I was there, and I had goaded him so much that I think he probably toyed with the idea of turning the weapon on me. Luckily, the VCR was the only casualty that day.
Oddly enough, that hasn’t been the only shotgun Egg Bowl incident I’ve been party to. I myself wound up blasting an MSU cowbell with buckshot before one game, and the thing barely dented. If you’re not familiar with State fans, thank your lucky stars. But I must tell you that they ring cowbells at games, I guess to show how sophisticated they are. If you need an artificial noisemaker to create an atmosphere in your stadium, you’ve got issues. State fans do, on both counts. Away from football games, most State fans I know are basically good-natured country folk. But get them near Scott Field, and they turn into cretins of the most despicable sort. You will find, if you’re unfortunate enough to find yourself in an altercation with these hooligans, that their handy cowbell doubles as a very effective metal club.
For the past several years, one or both teams have been good and had something to play for in the way of bowl positioning. This year, both teams will finish with losing seasons, and there is little to play for but pride and recruiting. That may make the ’04 Egg Bowl even more meaningful, because there will be no chance to wash away the sting of a loss with a bowl win, and few fond memories to remember the season by. For both squads, this is the only chance to end the season well and salvage anything positive. God help us if we lose.
