How did you come to be a Vols fan, having grown up 45 miles from Atlanta-Fulton Co. stadium?
Warning: this is gonna be long.
I've told this story before, but I don't mind retelling it. I'm not originally from Georgia, I'm not even originally from the south. Until my eighth grade year, we lived in north central Michigan, up near my grandparents. Grandpa was a VERY proud alumnus of The University of Michigan, and a lot of Saturday mornings were spent either in Ann Arbor or watching from home.
We moved to Georgia in the summer of (IIRC) 1992, to a little "blink and you'll miss it" town without a stoplight between Cartersville and Rome. There was this little store up around the corner from our place, and behind the counter was a bouffant-equipped, pistol-carrying, five foot six inch ball of sass, fire, and southern hospitality named Pat. Pat was originally from Maryville, and ALWAYS wore a Power T pin, every day, didn't matter what she wore, that pin was always gonna be there.
I asked her about it one day (she and my family became good friends, to the point where she became "Grandma Pat"), and was informed that the proudest moment of her life was that day in 1968 when she graduated from "the greatest school in the country" (her exact words), The University of Tennessee. She would tell me stories of great players at Tennessee (my parents did not GAF about sports until my little brothers did, but that's a whole different topic), and she never had a single good thing to say about Alabama.
Fast-forward a little bit, and I guess my pestering paid off because I was invited to join her on her trip north one Saturday to Neyland Stadium. Time, alcohol, age, and some mind-altering substances in my youth have clouded my memory a bit as to the opponent (I'm
pretty sure I was 15, which would have made it the 1994 season, and I always
thought that the first game I attended was v. UCLA, but Tennessee played @ UCLA in 1994; and I could have
sworn that Andy Kelly was the starter; but '94 was Peyton; and I can
clearly remember watching games with Heath Shuler because I found it funny that a QB wore #21......IDK now, I've slept since then, and have consumed more than my fair share of tetrahydrocannabinol).
Anyways, we drove north on that fall Saturday, up I-75 about 2.5 hours (Grandma Pat
definitely had a bit of a lead foot), and I soon greeted by the sight of this gigantic stadium sitting next to a river, with a WHOLE bunch of folks wearing orange and white. I know it sounds trite, but as soon as we walked into Neyland, it changed me. My allegiance was no longer maize and blue (make no mistake, I will
ALWAYS have an affinity for them unless they're playing Tennessee), it was firmly and solidly Orange and White, and has been since.