William Faulkner and The Third Saturday In October

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GoBigOrangeVols

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For every Tennessee Fan any number of years old, not once but whenever he wants it, there is the instant when it’s still not yet three thirty in the afternoon on the Third Saturday in October, the boys are in position in the tunnel, the Pride is sounding and the T is formed, and Smokey is already loosened to break out and Pruitt himself with his oiled and shaved head and his whistle in one hand probably and his headset in the other looking up the Hill waiting for Fulmer to give the word and it’s all in the balance, it hasn’t happened yet, it hasn’t even begun yet, it not only hasn’t begun yet but there is still time for it not to begin against those elephants and that tide which made more boys than Manning and Majors and Tee and Dobbs look grave yet it’s going to begin, we all know that, we have come too far with too much at stake and that moment doesn’t need even a Tennessee fan to think This Time. Maybe This Time with all this much to lose and all this much to gain: The East, The SEC, the world, that gold trophy itself to crown with desperate and unbelievable victory the desperate gamble, the cast made all those years ago…
 
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