clock menu more-arrow no yes mobile

Filed under:

The Reverend VandyImport Calls A Revival Meeting In The Big Tent At The Fairgrounds

Don't get mad - get MADDER.

Frederick Breedon

Brothers and sisters of Planet Commodore:

We are laid low. Mighty low. Low as we can remember being. We had a long night and a rough night and a painful morning. And then some of us had relatives over all weekend to boot.

But we know pain. We knew pain when a post-death penalty SMU did us wrong. We knew pain when we lost by 65 to UT with a bowl berth in the balance. We knew pain when MTSU was allowed 13 men to deny us a field goal. We knew pain when it was decided Earl Bennett was inexplicably on Soul Train instead of in Florida's end zone.  We knew pain when we couldn't get over on Wake Forest for years at a time. We knew pain when we got a letter every Monday morning from the SEC about what call had been blown that week.

But where did we go from there?  Did we go away? Did we told our tent? Did we sink?

What do you think Anchor Down stands for?

We remain. We are a fixed point. We will not give up, we will not give in, we will reach out of the dragon's mouth and wrap our hands around its throat! Did we go away when our coach left us with a well-meaning turkey inseminator in charge? Did we go away when the bowls screwed us over again and again? Did we go away when that school up north decided they deserved to take our best success to paper over their own misery? Did we go away when it rained? Did we go away from a little lightning like the Gators did?

The rest of the world is overjoyed. The rest of the world is celebrating. The rest of the world wants us at the bottom, wants normal service restored, wants to write down an automatic win. Are we going to give them what they want? Are we going to concede to the cries of Same Old Vandy? Are we giving up, giving in, going quietly into the night?


This is where we circle up. Back to back, shoulder to shoulder. Our gang. Our squad. Our tribal loyalty. We're all we've got. We're all we need. Like Millwall or the Oakland Raiders - no one likes us? We don't care.

This is what it means to keep the chip. And we will. That chip means we don't need your approval. We don't need your permission. We don't need your endorsement. We're here to stay, for sixty minutes, twelve months a year. The fly in the ointment. The stone in the shoe. The forgotten foe who steps back out of the dark and cuts your throat before you think to look. Here today, built to last, nobis solum: for ourselves alone.

Anchor down. Keep the chip. See you Saturday.