The Last Person to post wins XVIII

#4,501
#4,501
I wish we had already played Bama. I hope we just get out with no injuries and Pruitt can get them past it mentally, we don't need them beating us twice.
 
  • Like
Reactions: malinoisvol
#4,502
#4,502
Behr said:
I wish we had already played Bama. I hope we just get out with no injuries and Pruitt can get them past it mentally, we don't need them beating us twice.
Click to expand...
Completely agree with you. If we can do that, I think the last 5 games are winnable. Not saying we'll win them all, just that we are capable
 
  • Like
Reactions: Behr
#4,504
#4,504
I was talking to my OSU friend earlier about it, and he knows I don't expect it to be close, but he said " for a moment, just imagine if you guys pulled it off".

I'm allowed to think about it and I did. I'm not sure I could contain myself. Seriously. It would be crazy...the feeling. I mean, I'm having a hard time just talking about it. Lol.

Anyway, yea, get out without any injuries and look good and I'll be ready for the rest of the season and feeling good about it.
 
  • Like
Reactions: MyBloodRunnethOrange, malinoisvol and joevol33
#4,505
#4,505
I honestly expect us to play them harder than any game so far. A tight game, and we could win out, could.
 
#4,506
#4,506
Beating Bama...a fantasy fulfilled. I still remember that feeling I got in 95. I knew that game was over when Peyton through that 1st down pass to Joey Kent who proceeded to house that Martha fawker! Then to win the next six after that... Sheer JOY!
 
  • Like
Reactions: joevol33
#4,507
#4,507
I still enjoy beating Florida more, but obviously because who Bama is now, not to mention all the other stuff, it would definitely be .....something else. Wooooy dog. Lol.
 
  • Like
Reactions: joevol33
#4,510
#4,510
For me, BAMA not Florida, is Tennessee’s nemesis. Tennessee and Bama already had a series record long before Florida students knew how to spell the word “football”. I HATE BAMA’s GUTS. I HATE THE ALABAMA CRIMSON TIDE with every word I speak, every blink of my eyes, every thought that I have, every breath I take, and every beat of my heart. I HATE THE ALABAMA CRIMSON TIDE!!!
 
  • Like
Reactions: MyBloodRunnethOrange and Behr
#4,512
#4,512
malinoisvol said:
For me, BAMA not Florida, is Tennessee’s nemesis. Tennessee and Bama already had a series record long before Florida students knew how to spell the word “football”. I HATE BAMA’s GUTS. I HATE THE ALABAMA CRIMSON TIDE with every word I speak, every blink of my eyes, every thought that I have, every breath I take, and every beat of my heart. I HATE THE ALABAMA CRIMSON TIDE!!!
Click to expand...

Oh boy, Lotta hate in that post.
 
#4,520
#4,520
A man stood upon a railroad bridge in northern Alabama, looking down into the swift water twenty feet below. The man's hands were behind his back, the wrists bound with a cord. A rope closely encircled his neck. It was attached to a stout cross-timber above his head and the slack fell to the level of his knees. Some loose boards laid upon the sleepers supporting the metals of the railway supplied a footing for him and his executioners--two private soldiers of the Federal army, directed by a sergeant who in civil life may have been a deputy sheriff. At a short remove upon the same temporary platform was an officer in the uniform of his rank, armed. He was a captain. A sentinel at each end of the bridge stood with his rifle in the position known as "support," that is to say, vertical in front of the left shoulder, the hammer resting on the forearm thrown straight across the chest--a formal and unnatural position, enforcing an erect carriage of the body. It did not appear to be the duty of these two men to know what was occurring at the center of the bridge; they merely blockaded the two ends of the foot planking that traversed it. Beyond one of the sentinels nobody was in sight; the railroad ran straight away into a forest for a hundred yards, then, curving, was lost to view. Doubtless there was an outpost farther along. The other bank of the stream was open ground--a gentle acclivity topped with a stockade of vertical tree trunks, loopholed for rifles, with a single embrasure through which protruded the muzzle of a brass cannon commanding the bridge. Midway of the slope between the bridge and fort were the spectators--a single company of infantry in line, at "parade rest," the butts of the rifles on the ground, the barrels inclining slightly backward against the right shoulder, the hands crossed upon the stock. A lieutenant stood at the right of the line, the point of his sword upon the ground, his left hand resting upon his right. Excepting the group of four at the center of the bridge, not a man moved. The company faced the bridge, staring stonily, motionless. The sentinels, facing the banks of the stream, might have been statues to adorn the bridge. The captain stood with folded arms, silent, observing the work of his subordinates, but making no sign. Death is a dignitary who when he comes announced is to be received with formal manifestations of respect, even by those most familiar with him. In the code of military etiquette silence and fixity are forms of deference.
 
#4,521
#4,521
The man who was engaged in being hanged was apparently about thirty-five years of age. He was a civilian, if one might judge from his habit, which was that of a planter. His features were good--a straight nose, firm mouth, broad forehead, from which his long, dark hair was combed straight back, falling behind his ears to the collar of his well-fitting frock coat. He wore a mustache and pointed beard, but no whiskers; his eyes were large and dark gray, and had a kindly expression which one would hardly have expected in one whose neck was in the hemp. Evidently this was no vulgar assassin. The liberal military code makes provision for hanging many kinds of persons, and gentlemen are not excluded.
The preparations being complete, the two private soldiers stepped aside and each drew away the plank upon which he had been standing. The sergeant turned to the captain, saluted and placed himself immediately behind that officer, who in turn moved apart one pace. These movements left the condemned man and the sergeant standing on the two ends of the same plank, which spanned three of the cross-ties of the bridge. The end upon which the civilian stood almost, but not quite, reached a fourth. This plank had been held in place by the weight of the captain; it was now held by that of the sergeant. At a signal from the former the latter would step aside, the plank would tilt and the condemned man go down between two ties. The arrangement commended itself to his judgment as simple and effective. His face had not been covered nor his eyes bandaged. He looked a moment at his "unsteadfast footing," then let his gaze wander to the swirling water of the stream racing madly beneath his feet. A piece of dancing driftwood caught his attention and his eyes followed it down the current. How slowly it appeared to move, What a sluggish stream!
He closed his eyes in order to fix his last thoughts upon his wife and children. The water, touched to gold by the early sun, the brooding mists under the banks at some distance down the stream, the fort, the soldiers, the piece of drift--all had distracted him. And now he became conscious of a new disturbance. Striking through the thought of his dear ones was a sound which he could neither ignore nor understand, a sharp, distinct, metallic percussion like the stroke of a blacksmith's hammer upon the anvil; it had the same ringing quality. He wondered what it was, and whether immeasurably distant or near by--it seemed both. Its recurrence was regular, but as slow as the tolling of a death knell. He awaited each stroke with impatience and--he knew not why--apprehension. The intervals of silence grew progressively longer, the delays became maddening. With their greater infrequency the sounds increased in strength and sharpness. They hurt his ear like the thrust of a knife; he feared he would shriek. What he heard was the ticking of his watch.
He unclosed his eyes and saw again the water below him. "If I could free my hands," he thought, "I might throw off the noose and spring into the stream. By diving I could evade the bullets and, swimming vigorously, reach the bank, take to the woods and get away home. My home, thank God, is as yet outside their lines; my wife and little ones are still beyond the invader's farthest advance."
As these thoughts, which have here to be set down in words, were flashed into the doomed man's brain rather than evolved from it the captain nodded to the sergeant. The sergeant stepped aside.
 
New posts
You must log in or register to reply here.

VN Store



Back
Top