Roll Tide
"Yep, we'll go right out there a ways to get the best signal," Kenny explained to the game warden, who wondered about the contraption he had seen motoring around the lake.
Kenny wasn't one for long drives or large crowds but he loved his Crimson Tide football. Instead of traditional tail gating, Kenny enjoyed listening every Saturday on his FM dial. A scratchy, snowy broadcast was all he was able to get from his trailer tucked beneath the densely wooded ridge.
"You been drinkin'?", questioned the warden.
"No sir," replied Kenny. "Neither the Lord or the extre weight on these insulation panels could stand it." "Plus it's dangerous."
Other PlansSatisfied that Kenny was sober, the warden left. Now, Kenny had just enough time before kickoff to grab a bag of pork rinds and his 'Bama foam finger. As he headed up the ridge, he noticed his cousin Herb and a few others, that he had not laid eyes on before, had gathered out in front of his trailer. Remembering that the revival meetin' was goin' on, Kenny decided to go with what he already had--half of an oatmeal cream pie and a plug of Levi Garrett. He had to hurry though to get back down the hill before Herb caught sight of him. Today football was his religion.
Painted Memory"I don't think Herb saw me," Kenny said to himself, gasping for air after running down the ridge as fast as he could.
Catching his breath, Kenny cranked the motor to his craft and headed toward the middle of the lake. With the high sky and a stiff breeze, Kenny's mind wondered, remembering the company he kept on Saturday afternoons. Pulling an old photograph from his pocket, he thought of his beloved mother. Kenny was just a teenager when it was taken. It was the only game they ever attended in person.
Pushing a tear away, Kenny cried, "I know your up there watchin' mama. I miss ya."
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