Roll Tide, War Eagle, and the Great Fairhope Hat Confusion

Let me just get this out of the way up front: I am a fairweather fan, and I regret nothing.

 

I know, I know. Where I come from, that's practically a punishable offense. In Pennsylvania, loyalty to a team is a birthright, passed down like grandma's china and just as fragile if you drop it. You pick your team in the cradle, and you stick with them through fifty-loss seasons, bad quarterbacks, and owners who clearly hate joy. That's just how it's done.

 

Except I never got that memo. I loved the Eagles right up until Andy Reid left, and then — plot twist — I decided I loved the Chiefs instead, because apparently my loyalty follows coaches, not cities. Then Kansas City started winning every single year, and something in me rebelled. I don't want a team that wins all the time. Where's the fun in that? Give me an underdog. Give me heartbreak I can recover from by Tuesday.

 

So last year, fed up with how political the NFL had gotten — I just want to watch a game, not sit through a lecture — I switched my allegiance to college football. Specifically, the SEC. I started with the Tennessee Volunteers, because, duh, I love Country Music. It seemed fitting.

 

Then I took my Southern road trip this summer.

 

Somewhere between falling in love with Charleston and falling in love with Beaufort, I started daydreaming about a lottery-winning future where I split my time between the two. And then I landed in Fairhope, Alabama, and promptly fell in love all over again, because apparently my heart has no loyalty there either.

 

Naturally, that meant I needed a new team. South Carolina Gamecocks? Alabama Crimson Tide? I didn't even know if the Gamecocks were SEC (they are — I looked it up). But "Roll Tide" is just so much easier to shout than anything Gamecock-related, so Alabama it was.

 

I wandered into the cutest little boutique in Fairhope, the Cat’s Meow,  and found two ballcaps: a red one with a big letter A, and a blue one with the same letter A. Obviously — obviously — these were both Alabama hats. Red, blue, who's counting? I grabbed the blue one, and declared loudly to everyone that I was officially Team Roll Tide!

 

The sweetest, most helpful employee panicked. She looked at my hat. Then she looked at me. Then she asked, very carefully, if I was from Tuscaloosa.

 "No," I said, “I’m from Pennsylvania!"

 “Oh, NO. No…that is not an Alabama hat, honey, that is an Auburn hat!”

She kindly steered me toward the red hat, the actual Roll Tide hat, and saved me from a lifetime of confusing strangers and possibly a stint on Alabama’s most wanted list, as this particular mistake is basically a felony in these parts.

 I told my husband the story later, fully delighted with myself. He said I should be embarrassed.

 I said — why? This is a great story. This is peak me. A Pennsylvania girl, several states from home, accidentally pledging herself to both sides of the Iron Bowl in the same sixty seconds, laughing about it with a stranger in a boutique. That's not embarrassing. That's Southern charm doing exactly what it does best — turning a tourist's mistake into a memory worth keeping.

 So here I am, red hat on, hollering Roll Tide with total confidence now. Underdog status pending. Loyalty subject to change without notice.

That's just my nature.

And y’all know what’s coming next…

Roll Tide!