The truck next to his was something out of a nightmare. It was raised, taller than they were, with its back-end exploding into a mix of multiple axles, a widened bed, a horrible array of speakers and custom barbecue equipment from hell.
The speakers were booming, grills searing, and worst of all, they were flying ribbons of entirely the wrong team color.
“That is not how you tailgate.” He grumbled to his friends. “That’s how you offended people on a Sunday morning. Like takin’ a piss on the Bible.”
His two friends sat on the back of his very normal pickup truck. One belched.
The other asked, “So? What can you do about it?”
“Once the game starts, I’ll sneak out and let the air out of all of their tires.”
His two friends looked over at the tires and coughed, politely.
“Dude, there’s like eighteen freakin’ tires on that thing.”
“Yeah,” said the other one. “You’ll be out here for the rest of the game.”
He shrugged back at them. “Tigers are playin’ UT. Not like they stand a chance of winning.”
Fortunately, and unfortunately, he was wrong.
And what was worst, he only got through tire sixteen.
It was 1996. The UT Vols lead by Payton Manning were set to head straight to a national championship. Then something impossible happen. The Volunteers were taken down by the Tigers. One of the absolute worst teams beat one of the absolute best. It became a moment Memphis sports fans will never forget, and UT fans will never live down.