Coffin's Corner – Tomorrow It Begins

There’s something special about Saturdays — every one of them. It’s the day of the week where you have the opportunity to be the you you’ve always wanted to be. You get to do what you like, when you like, how you like, where you like — or not at all — it’s up to you. That’s Saturday. But there’s something different, a lot different, about a Fall Saturday in East Tennessee. We all feel it, yet we can’t describe it to those who ask. We see it, we smell it, and we hear it. We touch it. We live it. And those people who don’t know keep asking, “What is it?”

It’s burgers on the grill and slaw in your stomach.

It’s a tap of your beer with your buddy’s beer when you agree with him.

It’s when leaves start changing to hues of red, orange, yellow.

It’s sundresses and cowgirl boots.

It’s checkerboards.

It’s 100,000 of your best friends.

It’s “We urge you to pay these prices, and please pay no more.”

It’s a Navy on the Tennessee River.

It’s Mose Phillips … in the downpour.

It’s the Pride of the Southland. It’s the Salute to the Hill.

It’s a place where corn don’t grow.

The dirt’s too rocky, by far.

It’s the Miracle at South Bend.

It’s the fumble that changed everything. It’s Travis Henry about 15 times in a row.

It’s Tony Robinson, Andy Kelly, Condredge Holloway.

It’s a bluetick hound that doesn’t care for crimson.

It’s “Touchdown Tennessee” and “Give Him Six”.

It’s the best bootleg Tuscaloosa ever saw. Or didn’t see.

It’s Johnnie Jones, Doug Atkins, Reggie White.

It’s the 1986 Sugar Bowl.

It’s the 1998 Fiesta Bowl.

It’s “Rocky Top.” And it never gets old.

It’s Doug Dickey, Johnny Majors, Phil Fulmer, Robert Neyland, and Derek Dooley.

It’s not Lane Kiffin.

It’s your granddaddy, it’s your Dad, it’s your momma, it’s your family.

It’s me.

It’s you.

It’s here.