There's a pair of red eyes glowing in all that black.
Waiting in the back of the equipment shed, hidden from view, smoldering with anger, there is a rabid dog up on its hind legs, shifting from hock to hock, ready to burst out. That dog won't run between the hedges on August 30th against the Eagles of the South, nor will it make the long journey to Baton Rouge. That dog is waiting, waiting for one specific date in October.
That dog knows that losing three out of the last four games to a particular team happens sometimes in sports. That dog also knows that it has been utterly humiliated two years running, that two separate college towns which become the largest city in their respective states every Saturday watched as a blue-tick coon hound and a half-baked joker dressed like Davy Crockett stomped all over him.
That dog knows every drool-covered word to \"Rocky Top.\"
That dog remembers the 1990s, remembers the nine straight defeats at the hand of a fat orange man's lackeys. That dog wants to give that tubby bastard a case of the cry-alones. That dog knows that the last time it won an SEC title without beating the hated Vols was in 1976, when the two didn't meet. The last time that dog won the SEC when losing to said Vols? Well, that's never happened.
Come October 11, that dog gets to run wild. Come 10/11, we break the lock on the shed and let that big hairy dog eat. Come October, the tide turns on the Vol Navy, and that big, red-eyed, angry son of a gun gets his long-deserved, bloody revenge.
Red and Black, Win or Lose
