Like, whoa. I just clicked on an email from Will with the subject "I just realized." What had just dawned on him is that today is the 10-year anniversary of Rocky Top Talk. Which means it has just now dawned on me. Whoa.
So much stuff has happened in the past ten years that even thinking about it takes forever, so we’re not going to do a Decade In Review or anything. After all, there’s football looming. Whatever humiliations we suffered since 2006 are about to be vanquished, and whatever nuggets of joy are to be found in there can wait to see if they stand the test of time after this season. So let’s just leave archives in the past for now.
Except for one thing. After the first Welcome to Rocky Top Talk post back in 2006, the very next post was entitled It’s the Anticipation, which has become an annual tttrrrrrrrraddition here at RTT. So our only celebration of the past today will be to do what we always do here: look to the future.
So here it is, once again, with feeling:
Tennessee does it better than anyone. While there are myriad reasons college football inspires fanaticism among its followers, one stands above the rest.
It's the anticipation.
Today's on-demand technology has rendered that state of human emotion known as anticipation practically extinct. A decreasingly few of you probably actually remember that back in the day your TV received programming from a grand total of three channels. Back then, programming was fixed in time and therefore scarce. Frosty the Snowman was shown once in December, and if you missed it, well, you just missed it.
Enter the modern era of VCRs, DVDs, Netflix, Amazon Prime, Hulu, and thousands of channels of syndicated programming and on-demand content. Today, it's like an all-you-can-binge buffet; you can watch whatever you want whenever you want to. Want to watch Frosty in July? No problem. Did you miss the season premiere of Walking Dead? No worries, your DVR has saved the day. The ability to pause "live" TV for bathroom breaks or because the phone rings, which was so groundbreakingly innovative just a few short years ago when TiVo burst onto the scene, is no longer novel at all.
This technology is great, don't get me wrong, but it does come at a cost. It effectively ensures an unlimited supply of programming of our own choosing, and the overabundance of supply has killed the wonderfully agonizing state of anticipation.
But anticipation is alive and well with regard to live sports, particularly football, where a relatively limited number of games are all played at roughly the same time every week for a limited number of weeks. It's like Frosty used to be. Kickoff is at a fixed time on one day per week, twelve to fourteen times each year. That's it. If you miss a game, you've missed it. And no, it's not the same to watch it later on your DVR, as there is something that nags at your subconscious, reminding you that 100,000 other people in the stadium, hundreds of thousands more in town, and perhaps millions more in their living rooms at home across the nation have already experienced the unscripted event together in real time.
And so you wait through the long, slow off-season, openly loathing it yet secretly loving it because you know that it means that when the next season finally, finally, finally kicks off, scarce supply will meet pent up demand, and you and a million starving others will experience something special, improvised, unpredictable, together in real time. Enjoy the countdown, because it pertains to so few things anymore.
To capture that magical moment when the waiting is over and the game has begun, 100,000+ folks on Rocky Top open each home game with a phrase that expresses the release of emotion that has been building since the final second of the last game.
The teams take their positions on the field. The referee blows his whistle and drops his hand. The kicker checks his men to the right and his men to the left.
He sprints to the tee, head down.
And then . . .
. . . finally . . .
It's Football Time in Tennessee!
Hit play on both of these as close to simultaneously as you can:
It all happens for real . . . soon. Soon.