Death of a Cowbell

The drive was longer than usual and Erin’s barbecue nachos from the night before were giving me fits, but, as soon as I saw the Shuqualak sign I knew we were home free.

It was late, I had just gotten iced, we had been on the road for 5.5 hours, and we had a 300 pound TV to unload, but we knew that in less than 12 hours we would be in the greatest place on earth. I figured after the drive I would have slept soundly, but waiting for the first home game was like trying to sleep knowing that Santa Claus was trying to fit his jolly ass down my chimney. Dreams of hard hits, and even harder liquor were intermingled with the nightmares of seasons past.

Once I awoke and realized that the Croom Era wasn’t just a freakishly haunting nightmare, I went for the breakfast of both champions and morbidly obese rednecks, a Bojangles Cajun Chicken Biscuit and Hashbrowns. After scarfing down an extra biscuit, I fell right back into the gameday routine I had grown accustomed to since becoming an alumnus- pack the coolers while watching Kirk Herbstreit evolve into the ultimate douche bag, pick up the few survivors from Friday nights’ debauchery, swing by Abner’s for chicken strips, unload all of our junk as we try to evade the temple guards and ignore Shrek’s demands to not stop our vehicle next to the curb and, and begin the marathon formally known as tailgating in the Junction. Luckily, we didn’t have to carry our tables and random assortment of chairs far. Just as we have the past 4 years, our tents were set up in a prime spot during the land rush the day before.

With the smoke from the grills hovering over the Junction, and the smell of whiskey and charcoal now filling our noses, I realized as I looked around that the tailgate had turned into a reunion of sorts. The entire 2004 and 2005 pledge classes had decided to join our expansive and now overflowing mass of tailgaters dressed in their Saturday best. After a few Bud Lights from a Solo cup, some boudin, and a green onion sausage poboy, fellowship had to be temporarily cast aside for the Dawg Walk.

Since we finally had non-student section tickets, it was no longer necessary to enter the second oldest stadium in college football 2 hours before the game. As soon as the final get back coach made his way through the tunnel of fans, we got back to tailgating basics before walking into the game- chicken strips and flip cup. With our water bottles filled to the bream with rum and our cowbells in hand (legally), we made it into the stadium just in time to catch the resurrected Dawg Pound Rock before the kickoff of the 2010 season.

The Bulldogs must have known of my Christmas-Eve-like anticipation and anxiousness for the day’s game as they “wrapped it in maroon and white”. Unfortunately, some of those nightmares from the night before came to fruition as the long, but now cool, fall-like night was ending. The cowbell I have had since I was a freshman didn’t make it through the celebratory night. I’m not sure if he was stricken by a heart attack from the shock of actually having a productive Mississippi State quarterback, or overworked and exhausted from all the touchdowns, but I knew things were taking a turn for the worse when he couldn’t take another swig of that $7.00 bottle of rum. May you rest in peace Pike/Vote for Haley Barbour Cowbell (2004-2010).