After 8 long weeks...

...my custom Smathers & Branson checkerboard orange & white belt arrived. Yes, it's the same one Peyton Manning wore to last year's home opener.

Fear the Pants

Thinking outside the box

A friend of mine will be getting married in November. For some reason, I have a very difficult time picking out wedding gifts. I always wonder, "Do they really want this? Or did they just play with the gun thingy?"

In case my friend reads this post, I won't give it all away, but I'm trying to do something a little more personalized and unique. I have zero artistic talent, but my buddy Keith, is pretty gifted. I've commissioned him to work on my little project. I gave him the idea, very little direction and a deadline.

If you've seen Keith's other pieces, you know this is totally outside his comfort zone, but will be a good challenge for him. I saw a quick doodle this afternoon and was already impressed.

I honestly think he could sell his work. If this project turns out as well as I think it will, I'm going to pimp him out and collect my finder's fee!

Has it really been 10 years?

It's hard for me to believe that 10 years ago, our world changed forever.

It seems like only yesterday, I was sitting in Hodges Library, on a Mac, finishing my a project for my advertising class. With my project complete, I clicked over to the web to check the news and my e-mail. And there it was, an image of the World Trade Center, smoking. I don't remember what the headline read, but I scanned for the next article. Then I saw a photo of the Pentagon, with a chunk of its outer ring, missing.

At this point, I had no idea what to think. I think I finally saw a headline that said "America Under Attack". I just remember getting up and wanting to walk back to the UC to find a TV. On my way out the door, I saw my friend Eric, sitting at a computer. He was catching up on the news too. I could tell he was worried. His dad was a fireman back in Middle Tennessee. I know he was thinking about what could have been. On a side note, that's also the last time I saw Eric. We had been friends since junior high, but I guess life got in the way. I often wonder what happened to Eric. I hope he's doing well.

Back to the story, as I walked to the UC, my mind started racing. My aunt lived & worked in DC. Thankfully, she was in northern VA that morning, meeting with her accountant. She didn't even know what was going on till the dust had settled.

Then I remembered my friend Stuart had several job interviews in NYC that week. Like an idiot, I pull out my phone and start dialing. Of course I couldn't get through, but continued to try. Later that evening, I was able to leave a voicemail. It seemed like a lifetime before I finally heard back from Stuart. I was in class when he called, so he, in turn, left me a message. You could hear his voice cracking, but who cares, he was OK. The message was long & didn't make a whole lot of sense, but I saved it for quite a while. I can still hear him talking about how he couldn't call out because "the tower, on top of the tower fell".

We should never forget the innocent victims who lost their lives through these cowardly acts, but the people who get overlooked should be the one's we continue to support and thank every day. The first responders, the men and women who put their lives on the line to help others. And our military, who continue to fight this battle to ensure we don't ever experience this kind of act again. Our military has taken a lot of flack and this upsets me. Could you imagine enlisting during a time of war?

A friend of mine currently works at the United States Naval Academy, 2 of my high school classmates graduated from Annapolis, another from the United States Air Force Academy in 2001. Did you realize there is a 5 year military service commitment after you graduate? Can you imagine actually knowing you'd have to go to war after you finish up with school?

But do you know who impressed me the most? The men and women who committed to the Air Force Academy, Naval Academy and West Point post 9/11/01. They had no idea how long this war would last. But they did it anyway.

I'm thankful for every man and woman in uniform. I challenge each of you to thank a first responder or someone in uniform, not just today, but every day. While some still may not agree with our past actions or current state of troop deployment, we should all agree they deserve our respect.

So far, so good...

I know we're only two games in to the 2011 college football season, but after the last few years, I'll take any positive I can get. The following are just a few thoughts I've had running through my head for the past 2 weeks.

• I LOVE that my coach is more frat-tastic than your coach. Wear those orange pants with pride, Doolander
• I belive Tyler Bray's back tat is the secret to his success
• But really, this kid could be better than Peyton Manning. He's calm, cool & collected in the pocket. Not to mention the kid can throw a football. I've been impressed with his ball placement, thus far.
• Our run game still needs improvement. We don't have a power runner (prove me wrong T. Poole)
• Justin Hunter is a freak of nature. He might be the most athletic player I've ever seen don the orange.
• Da'Rick Rogers is going to be fun to watch too, he and Hunter are a fantastic 1-2 punch.
• We still need to learn how to count to 11 (I'm looking at you Justin Wilcox)
• Our defense needs to step it up a notch or three, we look like 2 different teams out there
• Offense may score the points, but defense wins championships

It's my favorite time of year...

...football season!

Who knew Coach Dooley would break out the orange pants for our home opener. I had to do a double take, at first I thought Wells had found his was to the field. But upon further review, Dooley did not have the traditional Wells, orange on orange.

I hate to state the obvious, but Wells has been wearing orange pants and a white top for some time now. Dare I admit he's started a fashion trend?

2007 maybe? The years kind of run together.

Did the Doolander look to Wells for fashion tips?



I bleed Orange

This seems to circulate every football season, the older I get, the more it means to me. Matt sent it to me this afternoon & I had goose bumps and tears running down my face when I got to the end...

I am Tennessee . . . . .

I am Tennessee. I am the 30 year old couple coming back to campus for the first time with both little ones in tow. One wears her orange and white cheerleader outfit; the other wears #16 even though he's too young to understand why.

I am the 50 year old man who hoped no one saw tears in his eyes when the T was formed by the band. I was too choked even to sing "Rocky Top". For a moment I felt foolish and then I didn't care. God, I love this place.

I am the 60 year old woman meeting her freshman grand-daughter who is now the 3rd generation of UT students in our family. Despite my age, I'd strap it on Saturday and hit someone if it weren't for my gender and this blasted arthritis.

I am Tennessee and I have always believed I was different. You can see it when you look up into the stands. My orange is not the same as Florida's or Auburn's . But the differences go much deeper than my colors.

Read my creed. What other school has one? I genuinely believe in these things. To be a real Tennessee man or woman speaks of character, not of geography.

All are welcome to walk though my gates, not just the wealthy or the elite.

Georgia and Alabama may have their nations, but we have always been family. Make no mistake, we loathe defeat, but even in defeat, we would rather be a Tennessee Vol than anything else.

We are family and you are the sons of Heisman, the sons of Majors and Neyland. You come from a long line of brothers who names include White, Gault, Wilson, Manning, Shuler, Nash and Mahelona. It is a great heritage.

So this Saturday, when the warm ups are over and the prayers and amen spoken, when you hear my thunder growing in the stands above you, when you stand in the tunnel and the smoke begins to form, listen for my voice when you run onto my field. Behind the frenzy of the shakers and deafening roar, I will tell you something in a whisper you may miss. I will be telling you that you are my sons and I am proud of you for the way you wear the orange and white. I am telling you that you are my sons and I love you.

Tennessee is so much more than a state or a school or a team or a degree. It is something that, once you have experienced it, will live inside of you forever and become a part of what makes up who you are.

It is driving into town on a game day. You may have come from hundreds of miles away and as you get closer and closer to the city limits, you feel it rising inside of you. Other cars on the highway proudly display their Orange and White flags or magnets or car tags, and you honk and wave at them, because, for that one day, you are all on the same team.

It is the smell in the air and the ritualistic act of tailgating...catching up with old friends, making new ones, and invitations from perfect strangers to try their ribs or watch their satellite TV showing all of the day's important match-ups...of course, all being secondary to the one that will occur in the great cathedral of Neyland Stadium later that day.

It is the Vol Walk...where you might just see 300 pound men overcome with emotion and weeping with pride, because you have come there to cheer them on. As they walk by, you might exchange a glance with one or two of them, and you can see it in their eyes...it is going to be their day.

It is the students...dressed in their best, because going to a Tennessee game is like going to church for Tennessee people....you show the same respect as you would if you were in God's house. Those students remind you of the days when you were walking in their shoes and Tennessee was your home...but then you realize, in many ways, it is still and always will be HOME.

It is that lump that rises in your throat when the band plays Rocky Top as the "T" is formed.

It is walking around on a "foreign" and sometimes hostile campus. You are easily identified (Tennessee people always are) and the enemy jeers and shouts things at you to mask their feelings of intimidation. But just then you happen upon a friend you have never met before. You know they are your friend by the colors they wear or the shaker in their hand. You exchange a "Go Vols" and a confident grin, because he/she knows what you know.

It is when your heart leaps with every touchdown, field goal, sack, and interception...because those are our boys. And win or lose, they will always have our un-dying support. After all, it is those boys that you are really there for and not a coach or a logo or a trustee or a president.

It is the complete and utter exhilaration of walking away victorious over a worthy opponent...that feeling of pride and accomplishment as if it were your own feet that had crossed the goal line scoring the last points yourself...that feeling of wanting to scream "Go Big Orange" at the top of your lungs and hug complete strangers...and then there is the ultimate high of defeating your most hated foes from across the state.

No words can describe what this feels like, but you know because you have experienced it.

It is the sheer agony of defeat as the last minutes tick off of the clock and you realize that all hope of a victory is gone. You feel like crying and maybe you do...then you hear the faint sounds of a cheer that grows louder and louder...."Its Great To Be A Tennessee Vol."

It is knowing that year after year, no matter how things change in our hectic lives, you can always come back to "the Loveliest Place on the River"...the place where you came from...your home. It will probably look a little different and there will be new names on the backs of the jerseys, but deep down, no matter what, it is still the same. You still love it as much as you always have, because Tennessee is as much a part of you as your arms and your legs and the orange blood that runs through your veins.

And, finally, it is the feeling you have right now as you read these lines....the anticipation inside of you, because you know its almost time....Its about to start all over again...but then it really never goes away, does it?