I fancy myself a mostly rational individual. I try to be level-headed and even-handed in most of my dealings. However, I have found my rationality going the way of the buffalo the closer the Iron Bowl gets. I'm fidgety. Discontent. I want Auburn nation to crumble before us. I need it. This irrationality manifests itself in what can only be described as rage, bubbling right beneath my skin. Rage at the injustice of the situation.
How dare they suddenly break out their orange and blue car flags in my town?
How dare they assault my eyes with their disgusting team colors?
How dare they presume to even consider sitting at our table?
I'd gotten off track last week, overconcentrating on Cam and hoping for his downfall. I'm doing an about face. I want him to play. I want him to run up the middle and have Hightower break is Colgate-smiling-ass in half. I want to cost them everything.
Beat Auburn? Fuck that. Destroy Auburn. I want blood. I want tears. I want every one of those filthy booger eaters to walk with their head hung low in cold remembrance of their rightful place as second best.
We're coming, bitches. And Hell is coming with us.