Author's note: This post is done in jest; as with all things worth laughing at, there are elements of truth threaded throughout this "confession."One day earlier this summer Robert got an email we had been waiting on...hoping for...yes, even praying would come... for years. Literally years. And then it finally came. And I seriously can't remember a day we've collectively been more excited. Maybe when we got married. Maybe.
The email was from the Tide Pride ticket office. The short of it was -
You're in. After three and a half years on the waiting list - that's 1, 276 days (but who's counting, right) - we finally made the cut. And we were ecstatic.
We likely would have had Alabama football season tickets four years ago if we hadn't been naive and ever so slightly bitter new Bama graduates who survived Shula's years in college and decided not to purchase season tickets the minute we graduated.
Talk about a decision we regret.
We can always get tickets, we said.
No need to sign up now, we justified.
We're just starting out; we can wait a few years and then get them, we thought.
And that would have been true. Until Saban was hired. And then the waiting list went something like 10 years deep nearly overnight. Luckily, Robert signed us up hours after the announcement. That slim jump start he had on the other thousands of clamoring Bama fans who also smelled roses and championships in the future air - plus the extra 20,000+ seat addition that resulted from the north and south endzone expansions - somehow translated to us getting the golden nod in 3.5 years.
We couldn't write our check fast enough. We felt fortunate, blessed, graciously smiled upon by God. For weeks we were on a high no drugs can come close to effect.
And then we waited for these beautiful babies to come in the mail.
The day they did will probably only be trumped in our lives by either 1) the birth of a child, or 2) winning the lottery. Probably. (Since we don't play the lottery, I'm betting on the kids.)
You see, that's because now we're in. And we never have to be out. And that is a comforting feeling. (Trust me when I make a big deal about being in. There's plenty of long deceased Alabama fans claiming their season tickets each year. Currently, there's something like 10,000 to 15,000 people still on the waiting list. Luckily we're not stuck in the middle of that pack.)
It's not that we suffered in the years we didn't hold tickets. We watched in person nearly all the games we wanted. Granted, we paid a little more than face value, but that's not really the point. It's those agonizing days and hours before the game wondering if we will find tickets. You see, we always go to the game, but we don't always shell out for the certainty of having tickets in hand before we go. To put it short. We're dedicated but on a budget. But that was in the past. In one word, what have have now is
security. Budgeted security. And that's a nice feeling.
Still reading and don't think we're crazy intense... fanatical...partially insane? We'll, no need to fear because any readers on the fence on this point are about to jump right over as soon as they hear this true confession: If Robert and I were the kind of people who believed in divorce (for the record, we're not), I can guarantee you the one possession we would fight to the death over with the best Birmingham lawyers money can buy would be the Alabama football season tickets. What can I say, we share the same priorities.
So about this point, I'm hopeful you've decided to add mine and Robert's idolatry of Alabama football to your daily prayer list. And we need it. Because it's just a team and just a game. (Trust me, as full of truthful-ish jest as this blog post is, we do remind ourselves of that. Because we have to.)
But Alabama football is also something we both love. And I mean love. That shared passion that includes so many of our family and friends and has its on unique set of old memories and new ones and ones to be created. Believe it or not, Alabama football and all that goes with it is a deep tradition in both our families.
(I know, some of you just threw up a little in your months when I used the good ole "T" word. Feel free to go make a joke about the Bear being long dead if you need to to get through the rest of this post.)
But it's true. Alabama football is our thing. And I stress
our. I'm not going along with this because it's something I get to do with my husband when I would rather be doing something else if I had my pick. I'd go if Robert didn't. Every time. But I probably wouldn't have married him if he pulled for another team. But that's a mute point.
One thing is for sure. Alabama football is our thing, and we're now season ticket holders. And that's exciting. So is legitimately having this car tag.
If nothing I've written up to this point has shocked you, you're probably either one of our true friends who knows us deep down, or you share our priorities. If not and you're considering rethinking our friendship, I humbly ask you to bear with us. (No pun intended.) Because we're Bama fans. And that's all we know how to be.
Roll Tide!
