Alabama will be in the national title game again.
It’s set in stone, a fait accompli. The Tide will run the table, win the Southeastern Conference Championship Game and book their flights for Glendale, Ariz., to face an undermanned and under-coached opponent.
But this is no surprise, as it is a well documented fact that Alabama has won 52 consecutive national championships.
They have not surrendered the crown since the living legend Paul W. “Bear” Bryant invented the glorious game in 1958.
But this story is just one of many that defines Alabama football. The program has a tradition that is entrenched in mystery and clout.
Sitting at the right hand of Bear in the Alabama football trinity is the program’s most recognizable figure. A man who returned kicks as if he were running for his life. A man who just kept on running and running. A man who learned at an early age that life’s uncertainties were synonymous with a box of chocolates.
Forrest Gump embodies many of the necessary qualities of any true Alabama man — patriotism to his country,
dedication to his landscaping duties, an undying trust in the Bear and a slight learning disability.
Due to Gump’s uncanny resemblance to the fanbase, his name was soon adopted by the faithful as a nickname to call all their fans by.
Originally they wanted to be called the Bears, but Ole Miss had already claimed it, so they settled for their second choice, the Gumps.
But the Crimson Tide tradition is not just one of happy-go lucky types and godly characters.
There is a dark, ominous side to the Gump mythos, as well.
In 2003 a high tide arose, and things began to roll out of control.
Mike Price was hired from Washington State to continue the Gumps’ success.
Price, who had spent the previous 14 seasons coaching the Cougars, was looking to find a new Cougar to call his own.
He allegedly was full throttle into a menage-a-trois when he told his two female counterparts, “It’s rolling, baby. It’s rolling.”
Soon after, Price and his stripper fetish were rolling out of town.
Then, in 2007 things changed again.
The Tide were looking to regain a swagger that had eluded them in the previous few title runs. They were no longer satisfied with just the pot of gold at the end of the rainbow, but they wanted the little leprechaun who guarded it to lead them there.
So they kidnapped Nicholas Saban despite his numerous pleas to stop.
The small man claimed that he would not be the next coach of Alabama. He was happy with the Miami Dolphins and would not leave.
The Bear would hear none of this and ordered the controlling little leprechaun to coach.
The small man reluctantly agreed to come to Tuscaloosa, knowing he could not deal with the ramifications of turning his back on the Bear. He has been there ever since.
Though much of this history of the Alabama football program is either completely false or overly dramatized, you should get the picture by now.
There is not a fanbase in sports that is more disillusioned with itself than Alabama football fans. Their arrogance and ignorance of the truth is an amazing sight to see.
But Saturday will put a chink in their supposedly indestructible armor.
When the sun sets Saturday night in Death Valley, the sun will also be setting on the national media’s one-loss wonder.
Les Miles and his squad will rise to the occasion, they will click on all cylinders and send the little leprechaun back to his Crimson and Cream hell in Tuscaloosa.
This occurrence will incite the ire of the Bear. Good thing he’s been dead since 1983.
Rammer Jammer, Yellow Hammer, GO TO HELL ALABAMA!
 
 
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Contact Rob Landry at [email protected]