ClayNation Dixieland Delight College Football Tour: UT at South Carolina

So my parents are coming with me to Columbia, S.C., for Stop No. 8 on the DDT. All week leading up to the trip, I felt like we were planning to go look at colleges. Actually, this entire trip seems like going back in time since, once more, my Tennessee Vols will be taking on Steve Spurrier. Except he's now in South Carolina and I'm now a completely mature adult.

Back in the days when I was less mature, Steve Spurrier was the cause of more of my cursing fits than any other person in my life. In fact, it's still not even close. When I was a senior in high school, Florida came into Knoxville and scored 35 unanswered points on UT. As Florida scored the 35th point on a fumble return for a touchdown, I let loose a torrent of curses that still makes my parents shiver. Then I slammed the door and went on a barefoot walk in my neighborhood. I spent the entire walk cursing aloud to myself while I gesticulated violently with my arms. It's a wonder I wasn't committed.

Then I went to Washington, D.C., for college where, during my freshman year, I wore a shirt that featured a quote from Will Rogers on the front, "Never met a man I didn't like." And then on the back said, "Will Rogers never met Steve Spurrier." This shirt gave me great solace after Spurrier beat my Vols again in 1997. Until, that is, I wore it to a party in Dupont Circle during National Coming Out Day. Every guy was winking and waving at me, and I had no idea what was going on. Score another one for the Old Ball Coach -- I couldn't even insult Spurrier properly.

During my senior year of college, Spurrier won again when Jabar Gaffney caught a ball with four one-hundredths of a second. My roommate at the time returned home and said, "As soon as Florida scored, I turned to everyone and said, 'I hope Clay doesn't break anything of mine.'"

Then Steve Spurrier left college football fresh off a home defeat to UT in 2001. It was sweet redemption; I could almost pretend my Vols had finally sent him packing.

Until last fall, that is, when I watched the UT-South Carolina game from a San Juan, Puerto Rico, bar. Now coaching South Carolina, Steve Spurrier strode right back into my life and kicked me in the groin once again. And yet, despite all the abuse he has heaped upon me, I still like Steve Spurrier. And everywhere I go in the SEC, there are fans of other vanquished teams who feel the exact same way.

Which leads me to ClayNation Canon No. 146: If you want to analogize how abusive relationships work to Southern men, explain to them that it's the equivalent of still liking Steve Spurrier even though he has done their teams wrong so many times before.

You know you shouldn't, but you just can't help yourself. So it was with a great degree of trepidation that I set out for Columbia to watch the Vols take on the Gamecocks for Stop No. 8 of the DDT.

I take complete responsibility for my Dad's hat being turned backward.

1. My dad insists on driving as we leave Nashville. This means for the first time on the DDT, I'll be riding in the back seat of my own car. This is vaguely uncomfortable primarily because my dad is not a particularly fast driver. I toss these concerns into the recesses of my mind and begin fiddling around with all the back-seat buttons and gizmos I've never gotten to play with before. Pretty soon I've constructed an odd weather pattern whereby cool air is hitting the top of my head and hot air is slamming into my shins. It's entirely possible I'm about to artificially create rain. Cars are whizzing by on both sides of us completely unaware of the scientific breakthrough currently taking place.

2. The trees of Tennessee are bathed in vibrant shades of orange, red, yellow and brown. Last week during the Tennessee-Alabama game, I kept thinking that the overhead shots from the blimp truly resembled the colors of fall across the South. During this drive, I'm sure of it.

3. I read for what seems like nine hours. When I finally stop reading, we're stuck in Knoxville traffic and only 180 miles from Nashville. "What happened Dad?" I ask. "This Knoxville traffic is rough," he says, confidently skipping over the preceding eight hours and 50 minutes of his driving.

4. Once through Knoxville, I am handed the keys. Night is approaching and we are still in Tennessee. As we cross into North Carolina, my parents become fixated on the number of semi-trucks on the road.

5. "Look at them," my mom says, "just look at all of them." Her eyes are slit like a cobra's right before it pounces. It's possible there is not a person on earth who dislikes semi-trucks more than my mom. She's been anti-semi for my entire life. "Why do they all have to be going the same direction as us? We need to make them all go back to the railroads again," she says. My dad is silent in the back.