So you're going to the Auburn game?

Survival Guide for ‘Bama Fans in Auburn

George Bernard Shaw, the great Irish dramatist and purported socialist, once said “England and America are two countries separated by a common language.” I always liked the quote, as much for its economy of words as its message. Being a fraction Irish myself, and 100% Southern, I fully understand being misunderstood and often ponder why people sharing the same language and lineage, who reside within common borders and even in the same neighborhoods, choose to turn against one another for no apparent reason.

Take Auburn University and its followers, the Aubs, for example. Yes, we share a form of the same language. We grudgingly share a state with them. We went to high school with them, share zip codes, go to church together and sometimes, out of some sense of noblesse oblige, even let our children play with theirs. Outside.

But tomorrow we will be strangers in a strange land – their land, not ours -- outnumbered and outgunned, hoping to leave Friday evening victorious and elated, but injury-free and with fully-inflated tires on our cars. We have to ask ourselves the question, like noted American social icon Rodney King did, “Can we all get along?” And since I’m quoting social icons and purported socialists today, the answer is a resounding “Yes, we can!”

Here are some BamaBing! tips that will enhance your gameday experience and increase your chances of survival:

1. Avoid the term “Cow College.” They are sensitive about their agricultural heritage, for some reason. I never figured this one out, since every time you eat a truly great steak it’s probably the result of some Aubs doing freaky cross-breeding experiments in animal husbandry class. And they gave us the McLean Deluxe. Don’t forget that.

2. Be careful who you hang with. If this guy (left) is at your tailgate, nothing good can happen. You wouldn’t spearfish in shark-infested waters with a bloody red snapper clipped to your belt, would you? So don’t strike up a postgame conversation with a piss-drunk Bama sidewalk alum who wants to roll Toomer’s Corner. At best, you will get your ass beat. At worst, they will rip you apart and sling your entrails into the trees.

3. Don’t ask about the basketball arena. Yes, they are spending $100 million on a basketball gym with fewer seats than their old one (which was already one of the smallest in the SEC). This is so they won’t have to hang a curtain across half the place to hide the empty seats. Just let them keep building shit they can't afford, trying to catch up with us. This is how Ronald Reagan crushed the Soviet Union.

4. Don’t ask why there are so many Alabama fans at the game. Sensing another steady dose of The Process, Aubs are in all-out sell mode and finding limited domestic demand for their tickets. This has sent them en masse into the open market, where the buyers are largely of the Crimson variety. Aubs rationalize the economic situation thusly, “I can pay for my whole season ticket package by selling my tickets to Bammers.” The irony of this escapes them.

5. If you must engage… ask if Eltoro Freeman is named for a lawn mower.

6. Don’t count your championships. They really hate it when we do this.

7. Don’t ask why their season ticket hotline number is 1-800-AUB-1957. Just don’t.

8. Bad topics of conversation: Colonial Bank, Mr. Lowder, sociology, the world famous Kenny Irons interview, the Martyrdom of John "Stump" Thrower, Iowa State’s bowl eligibility, mobile homes as student housing, SACS accreditation, lingering ex-coach hush money payments, Rev. Chette’s tax status.

In summary, give the Aubs praise where it’s due. Comment on the pristine nature of their field – they are very proud of it. If you wish, feel free to read them this little poem I wrote in praise of Aubs:

I’m raising my glass

To the Auburn vet

Who stuck his finger

In my Labrador’s ass

And the Auburn grad

Who cuts my grass

And his lovely wife

Paroled at last.

I’m drinking a toast

To the Auburn farmer

Who grows the collards

I like the most

And strings barbed wire

From post to post

And his cousin Donnie

Who tends the goats.

I’m buying a round

For the Auburn men

Who raise the cattle

And plow the ground

And build the bridges

And cruise around

On John Deere tractors

And roll their own town.

War Damn Eagle