Have you ever experienced a moment so empowering, so impactful, that you almost felt as if it had to be a dream?
That’s what happened in the Tennessee student section on Saturday night, as the Vols snapped the Florida Gators’ 11-game win streak, one the Florida players had held over the heads of Tennessee fans everywhere leading into the matchup.
The Volunteers came out sluggish, putting up one measly field goal before halftime, while the Gators, led by ex-Purdue backup quarterback Austin Appleby, came out firing on all cylinders, building a three-score lead before the break.
At halftime of that game, the entire crowd in Neyland Stadium sat stunned in silence.
The Vols were supposed to come out strong, right?
This was their year, right?
We can’t really be this bad...right?
Despite the deafening, shocking quietness, the most amazing part is that for the next 30 minutes of football, they would be stunned once more, only this time, it would be in a good way.
In the second half, Tennessee’s first touchdown of the game came on a 23-yard catch by Jalen Hurd.
That brought life back into the crowd, as the roar that is ever so familiar to a true Tennessee fan began to rise once more from the gnawing, bloodthirsty souls of 102, 455 people desperate for something for which they could finally hope: victory.
Tennessee’s defense stiffened on a monumental third-down play, and when tight end Ethan Wolf threw himself into the end zone, grasping, reaching and finally clutching the touchdown pass that brought the Vols within five points of victory, I knew.
I knew that in that moment, I was part of something bigger than myself.
I knew that with a driving force of 102,455 people all focused on that very one goal at the very same time, this team that we all so irrationally love so much could not lose this game.
The impenetrable steel wall of sound that burst forth right then stretched farther than I ever thought it could, as high as the Neyland lights that, legend has it, can touch God on a good day.
Finally, I knew in that moment that there was nowhere else I’d rather be.
The comeback only continued from there, as wide receiver Jauan Jennings caught up to an erratic pass from quarterback Josh Dobbs, only to slip past a stumbling, recovering Jalen Tabor, tip-toe down the sideline and race into the end zone for the go-ahead score.
As the madness slipped unquestionably into an all-out frenzy, no behavior was unwarranted or chastised.
Approximately ten random people, including myself, my girlfriend and several others whose names we still do not know, jumped into each other’s arms, screaming, laughing, cursing the Gators and practically beheading one another in celebration of the history-making insanity we had just witnessed.
It was a moment I’ll remember forever.
The last time Tennessee beat Florida, I was eight years old.
My mom, who is now deceased, stood beside me in Section L Row 8, right behind the goalposts through which James Wilhoit’s game-winning kick sailed, and the blood-curdling madhouse that resulted is something I’ll never forget.
Fast-forward 12 years and over to the left about six sections through Neyland Stadium, go up 30 rows, and you’ll find the spot where I screamed bloody murder during my second most-memorable win over the Gators.
Sounds fun, doesn’t it?
The curse words are fresher this time around, as are the screeches of jubilant celebration, but the gut-wrenching, motivating feeling of victory over Tennessee’s arch nemesis remains ever the same.
Let me say that this game is not a season-changing victory for the Vols, either.
Both teams limped into this game hampered by injuries, and both teams limped out, still eager for the return of some marquee players on both sides of the ball.
But when you consider the strife, the turmoil, the heartache and the overall depressed states that Tennessee fans have had to endure over the last 11 years following this game, you know it’s a memory we’ll pass on through generations beyond our own.
When I tell my kids about this, I’ll tell them about the grandmother they never knew, and I’ll tell them how she would love and adore them even harder and more fiercely than she did me.
I’ll tell them about the roar of the crowd, I'll tell them about the knocking each other down as we celebrated, and I’ll tell them about the players who made the biggest impacts in both games.
But most of all, through the 30-28 win of 2004 and the 38-28 spanking of 2016, I’ll tell them how #WWTFA and how, with the right tools and motivation, their football-laden dreams can come true, too.
