I can't resist these old Bear Bryant Show clips. I can't.
It's just so, so, so . . . quintessentially the South of my youth. Only, back in the South of my youth, I'd have said "my limited vocabulary doesn't permit me to say" stuff like "quintessentially."
![](https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgAsI7tPGxbD_qbhrKzQr7omBihM2vahf8yFBEAgxBRcXStFGVSZ-7dE7-7g7fwCOd3EWb8rRCMQioFUiOhDj2hi0tFa1u6hyL8p1GNCU9ooEZX-NOPVJfdaUQOTAAT0VPKFCYD/s320/Bear_Bryant.jpg)
TODAY, kids would see this and take it for a Saturday Night Live skit. Children, I grew up in a Saturday Night Live skit.
And speaking of that 1979 LSU-Alabama game -- I was there. In the student section. It was miserable.
It was as miserable of a game as I ever stayed all the way through. It rained -- hard. It was cold . . . probably in the upper 30s. I remember huddling under some plastic sheeting that some folks abandoned when they gave up the Tiger Stadium ghost.
And I remember 'Bama winning on a last-minute field goal, the only score in the whole frigid, soggy affair.
Didn't even get any Golden Flake corn chips for my trouble. Or a Co' Cola.