I’m a lifelong Bama fan and a two-time graduate of the Capstone. But I grew up in the southeast corner of Lee County, about half an hour from the ugliest village on the plains. Being that close, of course there were plenty of booger-eating Teagle fans (although, rest assured, there are plenty of Crimson Tide faithful in the area, too). For years, I have tried not to hate the plow-pushers. I figured that hating them gives them a measure of equality that they don’t deserve. I thought that we should just feed their inferiority complex, so I decided just to laugh and ridicule them at every turn.
But 2010 has been different. I am so sick and tired of those cow-milking rubes. I’m fed up with their haughty attitude. They talk about the barnyard being a “family,” and they say that makes them different from everybody else. (I guess it means they’re all inbred.) Then there’s this nonsense from their head coach, claiming that God is on their side. This especially irritates me. God doesn’t care whether you win a football game, or any athletic contest. God wants you to do your best and show good sportsmanship, win or lose. We’ve seen just the opposite from the farmhands this year. Furthermore, if that’s what you’ve been telling your team—that they’re winning because it’s what God wants—how much damage is that going to do to them when they do lose? Were they not good enough? Did they do something to make God mad? It’s a dangerous path to go down when you’re supposed to be guiding young men.
They claim that they don’t have any “sidewalk fans” (those who didn’t actually attend the institution), as if that’s a good thing. I say that just proves the insignificance of their program. We have fans across the country, and people all over know of the Crimson Tide and call themselves fans. But if you ask around the country, a lot of people think the barn is actually in Georgia. Maybe they should go by their original name, East Alabama Male College.
I despise their stupid cheers. Take “Bodda Getta,” for instance. That may be the stupidest thing I’ve ever heard. It’s all gibberish:
“Bodda Getta, Bodda Getta, Bodad Getta Bah! Rah, Rah, Rah! Sis Boom Bah! Weegle, Weegle, War Damn Eagle, Kick ‘em in the butt Big Blue – Hey!”
I think I just lost 10 IQ points from typing that.
Or “Track ‘em Tigers:” “Track 'em, Tigers, just like beagles, Give 'em hell, you War Damn Eagles, hey!”
What the hell do beagles have to do with anything? Just the fact that it rhymes with eagles?
Then there’s their idiotic battle cry. “War eagle” doesn’t make any sense. Think about it: generally, football cheers are an exhortation to the team to do something. Roll, Tide! Go, Dawgs! War, Eagle?! It’s grammatically incorrect. Even “Battle Chicken!” would be better, since at least “battle” can be a verb. “War” can’t be a verb without a modifier (“wage” or “make” come to mind) in front of it.
No rational observer can say their
farm campus holds a candle to ours in terms of aesthetic beauty. The layout is cumbersome at best—there’s no central park like our Quad, and there’s no consistency to the architecture (which is unfortunate for an institution with an architecture school). The only aesthetically pleasing area on campus is Samford Hall and the gardens nearby.
Their mascot is lame, and that’s being generous. How many teams have the nickname “Tigers?” There are six in Division I football alone, and a total of 28 colleges or universities in the U.S. And in the state of Alabama alone, there are 48 high school teams that call themselves “Tigers.” Surely the Alabama Polytechnic Institute could have done better than this.
But these are all just reasons to laugh at the chicken-pluckers. Their dirty play this year, especially from Nick Fairley, has made my blood boil. I thought Ryan Pugh was the dirtiest player in all of college sports, but I was wrong. I think Fairley might be juicing—he was nothing last year, and now a double-team can’t stop him. And he acts like Lattimer in “The Program.” And don’t get me started on Trooper Taylor. He acts like a cheerleader with that stupid towel, and you can tell just from watching that he thinks he’s more of a player than a coach. You have to wonder if the players have any respect for him at all. Fairley sure didn’t seem to when Trooper was trying to get him away from the scuffle at the end of the Georgia game. How can you expect the players to respect you when your actions don’t demand respect?
Enough has been said about Cameron Newton and the arrogance of the booger-eaters in playing him and defending him. It’s almost sad to see how their entire fan base has sold their soul to this thug who is using them like a cheap whore.
I hope we shatter all their hopes and dreams into a million pieces next Friday. I hope we beat them so badly that their students burn down the campus in a fit of rage. Then I hope the earth opens up and swallows that God-forsaken piece of land down into the seventh level of Hell. Then we will salt the fields around it, so that nothing might grow there, and men might know that it was a truly cursed place.
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