ClayNation Dixieland Delight College Football Tour: Alabama at Arkansas

Ask any person not from Arkansas to name the first person or thing from Arkansas that comes to their mind, and 95 percent will say Bill Clinton or Wal-Mart. Of course I have no actual evidence that this is true, but it seems like it probably would be. (For the record, my wife said "Bill Clinton." When pressed for a second word association, she said, "I can't think of anything else.")

So Wal-Mart and Bill Clinton sum up Arkansas for the rest of America. And if not for the rest of the country, then at least for ClayNation. Other than driving across the bridge from Memphis with my dad when I was very young, ("OK, you've seen Arkansas now," said my dad as we got off at the first exit and drove back to Memphis) I had never been to Arkansas.

My knowledge of Fayetteville boiled down to memories of Arkansas basketball and football teams and also a vague recollection that Kelly from Real World: New Orleans might have gone to school there. So I set out for Fayetteville with less of an idea what to expect than for any of the other schools I had visited or will visit on the DDT. Fayetteville was a complete mystery to me.

And I don't think I'm alone in this. Former Arkansas coach Lou Holtz once said of Fayetteville, "It's not the end of the world, but you can see it from there." Now I know what he meant. Fayetteville is a long way from every other SEC school. Arkansas's closest geographic rival is Ole Miss, which is 402 miles away. Of course, 402 miles away seems downright neighborly when compared to the 1,040 miles that separate Arkansas from Florida. In the SEC where the fiercest rivals are often the closest of geographic foes, Fayetteville is a displaced and enigmatic distant cousin, the Puerto Rico of the SEC. A distinctly foreign place with its own rules, rhythms and way of life.

To continue an analogy that is wholly inapplicable, cock-fighting is probably legal in Arkansas as well. Yet each place has a particular and unique quality that somehow makes it seem like a world entirely unto itself. Friday afternoon, as I turn off I-40 and begin to drive north on 540, all around me are the verdant hills of the Ozarks. In a few weeks, these hills will have burst into thousands of colors, but now, all around me is green. There are no towns, few people, and at one point, there are actual clouds sitting in the valleys of the hills. As I drive through the clouds, it almost seems as if I am flying in a plane. It's wild. It's like driving into the Emerald City. Then I go through a mountain via a tunnel and when I come out on the other side, people wear hog hats and call hogs by standing and twirling their fingers. Tornado threats also can suddenly materialize out of placid fall evenings. It is a long, strange trip indeed ...

1. That begins with me accidentally throwing my car keys into the recycle bin outside our condo. So I have to climb inside the recycle bin and search around for the keys. This is bad. What's worse is that this is the second time I've done this in the past four months. On the positive side, I know exactly how to climb into the recycle bin without getting stuck inside or cutting myself. Nevertheless, this seems like an ominous start to the journey upon which I'm legitimately worried about what else might happen.

2. As soon as I leave Nashville, I get a call from my friend Amir. "I just bought 25 Tickle Me Elmos," he says. "I'm going to sell them on eBay when it gets closer to Christmas." Then he sends me a picture of his front room filled with Tickle Me Elmo packages. "You have to be the only prosecutor in America with 25 Tickle Me Elmos," I say. There's a pause while Amir thinks. "I'd say that's probably an accurate statement," he says.

3. I'm not making this up. My mom is worried about me driving 1,000 miles by myself on a weekend so she gives me a jar of peanuts and a pocket flashlight. Seriously, peanuts and a flashlight. If I get lost on an elephant farm at night, I'm golden.

4. I arrive in Memphis to stay with my friend Junaid, who had accompanied me to UT-California on DDT No. 1. The two of us stay up until 1:30 watching replays of the Tennessee-Florida game on Phil Fulmer's coaching show. Fulmer looks like he just ate glass. Junaid says, "I'm a firm believer that if you watch a game enough times, eventually the result might change." Even though we watch every important play approximately five times in super slow-motion, the result does not change.

5. On Friday afternoon, I stop in Little Rock and tour the Bill Clinton Presidential Library. As I'm eating lunch in Café 42 (oh, the presidential humor) a group of Alabama fans en route to Arkansas does a Roll Tide cheer. There may not be a place on earth Alabama fans are uncomfortable doing a Roll Tide cheer.

6. The Clinton Museum is definitely worth touring. Two interesting letters on display that the former President received: One from Nolan Richardson on March 10, 1994, wishing Clinton luck. The entire team signed the letter and Clinton responded on March 18 with "Win the NCAA." Then a few cases later, there is a Nov. 18, 1998 letter from Southern writer Willie Morris. Morris wrote: "P.S. Now if we could just take that Razorback fumble back with 1:49 left. I was yelling for the Hogs and it damn near killed me." Clinton responded on Nov. 24, "I used to think every Arkansas game was a metaphor for life-I don't anymore-and hope (indecipherable words here) in my old age."

I ask four people standing beside me to try and figure out what Clinton's writing meant. I get four different guesses and no one is certain. If someone from the Clinton library or Clinton himself can provide some clarity, it will be much appreciated. Regardless, every Arkansas fan on earth knows that these two men were referencing Clint Stoerner's fumble in Knoxville that led to the Vols' miraculous 28-24 victory. Then, in a bit of football symmetry, Arkansas upset UT 28-24 the next year in Fayetteville.

7. Did you notice how I just pretended Bill Clinton might be reading the ClayNation column? This might be the biggest leap I've ever taken with the column. You can also review Clinton's official schedule via computer screen for every day he was in office. I choose to review Clinton's official schedule for April 6, 2000, which happened to be my 21st birthday. One of the few things I distinctly remember from that night is hearing the Presidential motorcade roaring through town late that night as we stumbled down the Washington streets. Yep, there it is. Clinton was on his way back from a dinner. I was on my way to waking up with drink tally marks from my hand rubbed onto my forehead. So, all in all, pretty similar days.

8. On the third floor of the library, Bill Clinton is pictured in Arkansas warmups holding a basketball. This is an absolutely classic photo. Any middle-aged white guy in warmups is hysterical, but the president? Say what you will about Clinton as a president, but as a sports fan, the guy had no fear. Somehow, to me, Clinton always seemed the most believable when he gave himself over to his inner fan. I still remember him slapping his leg and cursing while he watched Arkansas play basketball in person. On the third floor, we also learn that Clinton liked to have friends over to watch sports in the White House and, "There was only one catch; he always had complete authority over the remote control." I can see that.

9. I arrive in Fayetteville after a drive that seems like it should have left me in the suburbs of San Francisco. It's a long way to northwest Arkansas from just about everywhere. Last week, I said that it was cheaper for me to fly to London than to Fayetteville. Now that I've completed the drive, I think it might be faster to drive to London, too.

10. To aid in the eeriness of the locale, as I arrive, there are huge clouds behind me. A tornado watch is in effect, and there are lighting strikes flitting ominously in the distance. My friend Hinton and I will be staying in Rogers, Ark., which is about 20 miles north of Fayetteville. Rogers and Bentonville (Wal-Mart's home-base merge together). Hinton grew up an Arkansas fan, and his parents as well as both sisters attended the university. Hinton and I met in law school, where he constantly lamented the Hogs' ability to lose close games.

11. By the late evening, when Hinton arrives at Northwest Arkansas Airport, it seems possible the Apocalypse has arrived. There is lightning striking in several different directions at once. Rain is pouring. Some of the lightning strikes seem to defy my rudimentary knowledge of physics by going entirely sideways across the night sky. I pass the Wal-Mart distribution center, which is in the absolute middle of nowhere. In fact, these are the rough directions to the Northwest Arkansas Airport: "Drive six miles on a road with no lights where you see no cars. Come to an abrupt stop at a large tree with two dead limbs and wait for a dog with one eye to bark at you, then drive a circle around the tree and drive two more miles on a dirt road that is bordered by a raging river on one side and a rapid descent to Hell on the other. When you reach the old clapboard house with "airport" spray-painted on the side alongside an arrow, you are close. Then you only have to drive two more miles where it appears that no one has lived in a 100 years. Then turn left. Welcome to the airport."

12. Hinton is ashen when he gets into the car. "We had this pilot who thought he was a funny guy and he kept making jokes about the lightning." He takes a long gulp of fresh air. "I thought I was going to die." Around us the sky is continuing to erupt. We miss the exit to the airport because despite the lack of people, the Northwest Arkansas Regional Airport has more signs per capita than any airport I have ever seen. None of them, however, seem to offer any help on actually exiting. Finally, after another pass by the main terminal, we leave and do what any smart person would do on the eve of humanity's death -- we drive to the bars in Fayetteville. As we travel in the lightning flashes, occasionally the mansions of the Wal-Mart elite reveal themselves alongside large, downtrodden farms.

13. Dickson Street is not very crowded. This might be because we are in the midst of a torrential downpour. Still, Hinton and I manage to visit at least five bars. As further evidence that the one name bar trend is out of control, every bar in Fayetteville has one single name. Most of them of one syllable. My favorite is Stir. Seriously, Stir. Is there any less appropriate place than Fayetteville, Ark., for a bar named Stir? It's like a bar in Tehran called Jesus. But Dickson Street is a great place to go out nevertheless.

Clay Travis, left, in Hog Hat, with Hinton.

14. After a night out in Fayetteville, we head back to the hotel. On the way, we stop in at the Wal-Mart in Springdale. Springdale is the home of Arkansas' freshman starting quarterback, Mitch Mustain. It is 2:30 in the morning, and surprisingly, Mitch Mustain is not in the Wal-Mart. We buy two T-shirts, a set of Razorback cupcakes and a Hog hat. At the checkout line, a young Indian girl named Chitra is upset because I have managed to select the only hog hat without a price tag. "Price check on the hog hat," she says. Another young guy rolls his eyes. "You're going to make me work," he says and then goes in search of the price. Later, he will tell Hinton and I that he graduated with Mitch Mustain at Springdale High School. See, Arkansas is a small place. Chitra and I discuss what the hog hat will cost. "No way it's more than $10," she says. Mustain's classmate returns, "Hog hat's $16.95," he says. Everyone is shocked. Hog hats might be the highest margin item in the Wal-Mart.

A Razorback cupcake. (Photo/Clay Travis)

15. Yeah, I bought Razorback cupcakes. In the morning, this made less sense, but late at night I was dazzled by the fact that all 10 cupcakes had "Razorback" written on them in individual icing letters and yet the cupcakes cost only $4. I still have no idea how Wal-Mart can make money off these things. If you put me in charge of writing "Razorback" in icing on the cupcakes, they would end up costing about $400 and all the icing would be as illegible as Bill Clinton's handwritten notes. Of course, if you put Bill Clinton in charge of the cupcakes, they would never make it to the floor, and a Wal-Mart store manager would end up censured. I guess we all have our flaws.

16. The next morning, I take a picture of the Razorback cupcake on the air conditioner in our room. Enjoy.

17. Hinton cuts the Starter insignia off his new T-shirt while I take the cupcake photo. "I didn't even know Starter still existed," he says. Then, by way of explaining himself, he says, "I'm still bitter about all those kids with the puffy Los Angeles Raiders jackets."

18. Hinton and I arrive in Fayetteville and immediately discover the ticket market is pretty weak. About an hour before the game, we buy two tickets in the south end zone for $30 each. Face value is $40.

19. No hogs are being called. This is really disappointing to me. For some reason, I thought the area around Arkansas' football stadium would be one large cacophony of hog calls. As is, Hinton and I walk around outside for over an hour and don't hear anyone calling the Hogs. Is this a bad omen?

Starbucks in an SEC stadium. (Photo/Clay Travis)

20. We do find the Webhogs Razorback Club where the members are in the process of doing their "Victory Circle." Everyone stands in a circle and passes a whiskey bottle around. When the whiskey bottle reaches you, you say something football-related and then take a swig. One man says, "I hope we get a turnover today." So far, Arkansas has yet to get a turnover. Everyone agrees and the man drinks. The process continues until the bottle of whiskey is finished. Then everyone sings an Arkansas fight song. The Webhogs are of varying ages and of both sexes. They also have the best tailgate that Hinton and I see at Arkansas, replete with three flat-screen televisions, two satellites, tents that take an hour and a half to set up, and enough food and drink to sustain a small army. I talk with Rex Roberg and we all take a picture.

21. Arkansas and Alabama fans are almost impossible to tell apart. Each fan base is clad in red, and the difference between the two A's on caps is fairly subtle. If it weren't for Alabama fans and their pompons, the fan bases would be almost indistinguishable.

22. The south section of the Arkansas football stadium is new. As such, it is remarkably nice. So nice it even has Starbucks coffee. Yep, Starbucks ... in an SEC stadium. On the positive side, Arkansas does sell something called Pulled Pork Nachos, which are also called "The Widowmakers." Hinton tries some and pronounces them good.

23. We're on the third row in the end zone, and our seats have backs. This is the first backed seat in an SEC stadium that I've ever seen. And a cup holder too. I lean back and test out the seat. Then I put my cup into the cup holder. It doesn't take very much to impress me.

One of the 543 Arkansas cheerleaders. (Photo/Clay Travis)

24. Arkansas appears to have approximately 543 cheerleaders. There are tons of them. I think each player must get a personal team of 10 to follow him around wherever he goes.

25. I discover that no one wears their Hog Hats during the game. This is because it's almost impossible for the people behind you to see. Not to mention the fact that the hats are pretty wobbly.

26. By kickoff, the weather is perfect. Hardly any clouds and sunny skies. Nice call by the weathermen who had been predicting a second batch of Apocalyptic showers.

27. The crowd is not particularly loud early in the game. Hinton tells me that Arkansas hasn't had many big wins lately in Fayetteville, and the trepidation of the crowd seems to back that fact up. When Arkansas kicks a field goal to take a 3-0 lead, the crowd perks up. But then Alabama scores on a 78-yard touchdown pass, and the crowd immediately deflates and turns pessimistic. Several rows behind me, a man is screaming at Arkansas coach Houston Nutt. The first audible Roll Tide cheer reaches us from the Alabama section near the other end zone.

28. Does every SEC stadium have hedges now? All four I've visited thus far do. Is there any trend that can't be copied in the SEC? What if Georgia added a drawbridge and moat surrounding their hedges? Would everyone else follow?

The view from our seats featuring the hedges to the right. (Photo/Clay Travis)

29. The Arkansas crowd loves freshman Mitch Mustain. After he completes a pass for a first down, the man in front of me says, "How many weeks do you think it will take for his jersey to be for sale?"

30. Alabama boots a field-goal to end the half. It's 10-3. The grumbling around us increases. Hinton says, "There's a rumor that everyone who wanted to see Nutt gone was going to wear black shirts today." There don't appear to be very many black shirts.

31. Arkansas scores to begin the second half but misses the extra point. It's 10-9 Alabama. The crowd continues its alternate bouts of exhilaration and despair. Right now, they are exhilarated.

32. Alabama's John Parker Wilson throws an illegal forward pass. Hinton and I agree that the illegal forward pass signal is the most ridiculous one in college football. The elbow bent and touching the small of the back. It almost requires the referee to have a double-jointed elbow. How did this signal ever make it this long?

33. Arkansas decks Wilson and picks up a fumble return for a touchdown. But then the play is reviewed. The jubilation in the crowd is gone. This is the most bipolar football crowd I've ever been a part of. The instant replay guy on the sideline wears a large bib that says "IR" on it. Couldn't they give the guy an actual shirt?

The Webhogs Razorback Club.

34. The call stands and Houston Nutt does a fist pump that begins somewhere near the top of his shoes. I thought he was going to tip over. Then Arkansas scores on the two-point conversion and once again the crowd is jubilant. 17-10 Arkansas. I'm sure the Webhogs Razorback circle whiskey drinker who had requested a turnover is particularly happy.

35. The "Holler Meter" comes on the high-tech scoreboard. I love this, because I can't imagine the word "holler" being used anywhere outside the south. I'm picturing the Holler Meter coming on in Ann Arbor, Mich., and people being like, "What the hell's a holler?"

36. Alabama finally decides to throw the ball. They score shortly thereafter. Hinton rolls his eyes and seats himself dejectedly. "If Alabama would just throw the ball every down, they'd have 30 points," he says. Thankfully for Arkansas, Mike Shula continues to pound the run to no success.

37. With 3:11 to play, Alabama has a 30-yard field goal to take a 20-17 lead. Hinton refuses to stand. "There are only two teams that miss this field goal in the SEC," he says, "Vanderbilt and Arkansas." Alabama misses wide right. Hinton stands and cheers. Maybe Alabama isn't Alabama anymore.

38. Just before overtime arrives, Alabama's quarterback, Wilson, completes a pass to himself and then tries to throw the ball again. This is a sort of metaphor for the game itself. Not spectacular, but weirdly and crazily compelling. Overtime arrives and the zeroes are centered on the scoreboard. We're tied at 17 and this game is no longer constrained by the clock. The bipolar Arkansas crowd is eerily silent.

39. Mustain throws an interception, and then Shula runs three times in the center of the field and sets Alabama up for a 37-yard field goal to win the game. Only Alabama's kicker, Leigh Tiffin, misses wide right again. We're going to a second overtime.

40. The man in front of us says, "Maybe it's just in the cards for us to win this game." The teams switch ends for overtime and the photographers are caught in a mad scramble rushing to the other side.

41. Those of us in the south end zone primarily watch the game on the scoreboard. It's an odd feeling to watch a game you're attending in person on the scoreboard.

42. Alabama scores, but then Tiffin misses the extra point wide right. It's like he's suddenly Kevin Costner from Tin Cup. Every kick is the exact same miss.

Pledge of Allegiance -- Arkansas style. (Photo/Clay Travis)

43. So far, overtime is made up of periods of furious sound and intense silence. Hardly anyone around me is even speaking as Arkansas takes possession. Even the cheerleaders have stopped cheering. It is the most silent I have ever heard 75,000 people in the midst of a game.

44. It's third-and-8 and Mustain throws a pass to his former high school teammate, Ben Cleveland. While the ball is in the air, Mustain and Cleveland are just two young kids who everyone hopes will become special. By the time Cleveland lands in the end zone with the ball clutched to his chest, they are Razorbacks legends in the making. The cheers crest and then silence descends for one final moment in Razorback stadium. Hinton leans over and says, "If they block this ..." He doesn't finish the thought. The extra point is good and Arkansas floods the field with their own particular brand of red.

45. The Arkansas crowd raises their twirling fingers in unison and the Hogs are called in one long redemptive cheer as Alabama's players leave the field. Houston Nutt sprints across the field, leaps the dividing wall and climbs into the student section, where he then climbs the ladder and leads the band in song. In the other corner of the same end zone, Alabama's Mike Shula has just exited the field. It is a subtle difference -- this color of red that divides the teams of Alabama and Arkansas. But on a fall afternoon when hardly anything separates the two teams, ultimately it is a very large difference indeed.