Why we're Vols

[DeusExMachina]

For me, it all started with a sweet little ol' transplanted Volunteer alumnus.

Confession time: I'm not a native Southerner. My family moved from Atlanta, Michigan to Euharlee, Georgia the summer of my 6th grade year. Growing up with a grandfather that was a VERY proud graduate of the University of Michigan, my youth up to that point was spent in Maize and Blue at "The House that Bo Built" in Ann Arbor, Michigan; and at Joe Louis Arena in Detroit (I still have a soft spot for UM, and I will ALWAYS be a Red Wings fan). My parents weren't into sports whatsoever, so the move to GA effected me. I knew I wasn't going to see Michigan on any TV stations down there.

About a half a mile from where we lived, there was a little country store called JoJo's Market. Behind the register, from the first time I ever set foot in that store, was a taller lady in her mid-60's with an accent thicker than cold oatmeal. Her name was Pat, and she was a proud to be originally from "Murrvull, Ten-see" and even prouder to be a graduate of the "one and only University of Tennessee". You'd never catch her without her jeweled interlocking "UT" pin, and you'd NEVER hear her say a single good thing about the entire STATE of Alabama.

My family became close with "Miss Pat's" family, to the point where she became "Grandma Pat". I can distinctly remember walking into JoJo's one Saturday afternoon, and like I always did, I heard John Ward calling the football game. I asked Grandma Pat what game she had on, she told me (it was 1991 Tennessee vs. Louisville), and I was REALLY late getting home because I sat and listened to Mr. Ward call every bit of that game, y'all. It literally felt like I was at the game watching it, a fact that I shared with Grandma Pat. She then asked me "have you ever been to a football game", I told her about having gone to Michigan games with my Grandpa. This made her laugh heartily, and when she stopped laughing she told me "that's not real football. Run home and tell your Momma to call me. I'm gonna show you real football."

I did as Grandma Pat told me, Mom called her but wouldn't tell me anything more. I didn't give it a lot of thought, I was a kid and was busy doing other things. That next Saturday morning though, my Dad comes in and wakes me up at (IIRC) 5 in the morning, telling me to get out of bed and get dressed, Pat was on her way to get me. My young brain was like "huh do what", but I got up, got dressed and ate breakfast; and was ready when Grandma Pat got there. I got in her van and we took off north on I-75 (I still had no idea where we were going). We passed the Georgia/Tennessee border, we passed through Chattanooga, and finally made it to Knoxville.

Y'all. My first time seeing Neyland Stadium, I thought it was the biggest thing I would EVER see. All around me were these folks, dressed just like Grandma Pat in all orange and white, I had no idea what I had stepped into, and we hadn't even gone into the stadium yet. She knew of a little place, so we stopped in and grabbed a sandwich and a Coke amongst all these other folks in orange and white, and we finally made it inside the stadium in plenty of time to see (Grandma Pat told me they were called) The Pride of the Southland do their routine on the field. I was absolutely in awe at this point, I thought Neyland was huge on the outside..........I had no idea.

The rest, as they say, is history. Tennessee went on that day to beat UCLA 30-16, and September 14, 1991 will always be the day that I fondly look back on, because it was the day that my heart started pumping Orange and White.

 

[SmokinBob]

For me, it all started with a sweet little ol' transplanted Volunteer alumnus.

Confession time: I'm not a native Southerner. My family moved from Atlanta, Michigan to Euharlee, Georgia the summer of my 6th grade year. Growing up with a grandfather that was a VERY proud graduate of the University of Michigan, my youth up to that point was spent in Maize and Blue at "The House that Bo Built" in Ann Arbor, Michigan; and at Joe Louis Arena in Detroit (I still have a soft spot for UM, and I will ALWAYS be a Red Wings fan). My parents weren't into sports whatsoever, so the move to GA effected me. I knew I wasn't going to see Michigan on any TV stations down there.

About a half a mile from where we lived, there was a little country store called JoJo's Market. Behind the register, from the first time I ever set foot in that store, was a taller lady in her mid-60's with an accent thicker than cold oatmeal. Her name was Pat, and she was a proud to be originally from "Murrvull, Ten-see" and even prouder to be a graduate of the "one and only University of Tennessee". You'd never catch her without her jeweled interlocking "UT" pin, and you'd NEVER hear her say a single good thing about the entire STATE of Alabama.

My family became close with "Miss Pat's" family, to the point where she became "Grandma Pat". I can distinctly remember walking into JoJo's one Saturday afternoon, and like I always did, I heard John Ward calling the football game. I asked Grandma Pat what game she had on, she told me (it was 1991 Tennessee vs. Louisville), and I was REALLY late getting home because I sat and listened to Mr. Ward call every bit of that game, y'all. It literally felt like I was at the game watching it, a fact that I shared with Grandma Pat. She then asked me "have you ever been to a football game", I told her about having gone to Michigan games with my Grandpa. This made her laugh heartily, and when she stopped laughing she told me "that's not real football. Run home and tell your Momma to call me. I'm gonna show you real football."

I did as Grandma Pat told me, Mom called her but wouldn't tell me anything more. I didn't give it a lot of thought, I was a kid and was busy doing other things. That next Saturday morning though, my Dad comes in and wakes me up at (IIRC) 5 in the morning, telling me to get out of bed and get dressed, Pat was on her way to get me. My young brain was like "huh do what", but I got up, got dressed and ate breakfast; and was ready when Grandma Pat got there. I got in her van and we took off north on I-75 (I still had no idea where we were going). We passed the Georgia/Tennessee border, we passed through Chattanooga, and finally made it to Knoxville.

Y'all. My first time seeing Neyland Stadium, I thought it was the biggest thing I would EVER see. All around me were these folks, dressed just like Grandma Pat in all orange and white, I had no idea what I had stepped into, and we hadn't even gone into the stadium yet. She knew of a little place, so we stopped in and grabbed a sandwich and a Coke amongst all these other folks in orange and white, and we finally made it inside the stadium in plenty of time to see (Grandma Pat told me they were called) The Pride of the Southland do their routine on the field. I was absolutely in awe at this point, I thought Neyland was huge on the outside..........I had no idea.

The rest, as they say, is history. Tennessee went on that day to beat UCLA 30-16, and September 14, 1991 will always be the day that I fondly look back on, because it was the day that my heart started pumping Orange and White.

Love your story, Deus - and you’re a darn good storyteller, too!

 

[Easttnken]

Living in Memphis in the early 70's, Saturdays during the fall were my "out on the town" days. Dad and I would pile into his '67 Chevy pick up, and drive all around town listening to John ward calling the games. Sometimes we might go park by the Mississippi River, or park in Audubon park, or just drive around all day, listening from the start of the pregame show until the end of the post game show.

Back then, the Memphis UT Alumni Chapter was down on Union Av,. On Monday night, they would have film from that Saturdays game. Dad and I would go and sit amongst all of these folks that we had never met, and watch the game that we had listened to while driving the roads 2 days earlier. The thing that caught my attention, I still remember. On Monday evenings, while watching that week's UT game, I wasn't the only one in the auditorium who was in childlike wonderment. I was in a room full of grown men. They all had listened to, or went to the game in person, and so, knew what happened during the game, and obviously the outcome. Yet, while watching that week's film, we were all, young and old alike, sitting on the edge of our seats, cheering as though the game was being broadcast live.

It was pretty cool. People from all walks of life, from all around Memphis and the surrounding areas, would come together like it was a family reunion. The older I get, the fonder I remember these days.

 

[Tin Man]

Tennessee fans "abroad" reveal their true character, making lasting impressions of amicable, generous folk for whom love and faith in the Big Orange is as natural, right, and true a part of life as breathing. A Tennessee fan has no animosity towards you for being a fan of another team (though we pity Bammers and the most innocent among us may pray for the redemption of their souls). We'll offer you every kindness and hospitality we can provide, even if we're in your town.

Our genial nature and spirit is appreciated across the continent and places abroad. We are welcome everywhere, arguably more so than any other group of traveling fans. Even those of you who have indulged the surly side of your natures in recent times will admit to yourselves if not here the truth of this. Examples are too numerous to list.

The older gentlemen in dapper orange attire who paid the concession tab for a young woman at the Cotton Bowl who would see the Vols play for the first time in her life. The fan who when hit in the face by a hot dog at Oregon exclaimed good naturedly, Oh, is this for me? and proceeded to disarm and charm the local Ducks fans. The happy hordes in New Orleans who without mischief or malice bought drinks for the Miami fans who had been obnoxious and loud before their team was humbled by the Vols. I'm sure each of you can cite other examples of our unselfish nature manifest in countless moments.

It is great to be a Tennessee Vol. Truly. GBO.