For the elected official in Mississippi who spends an awful lot of time in his day fanboying over football, it just means more.
For the chief executive of Louisiana, who presides over things such as the state budget and who also made it his personal mission to bring a live tiger back to LSU football games, you can tell this stuff just means more.
And then for the Texas state trooper who earns a paycheck for protecting the citizens from public safety threats — let’s say, for instance, when a South Carolina wide receiver scores a touchdown and puts Texas A&M in a 23-point deficit — SEC football means more.
So, so much more. Incredibly more. Like, weirdly, concerningly, y’all really need to chill more.
The league’s catchphrase reads like an unrepentant way of life: When is football more than football? The answer: when we’re talking about football in the SEC, of course. Because as everyone knows … It Just Means More.
After another weekend when the civilians of the SEC took this brand slogan cooked up by an advertising firm way too personally, however, football could stand to mean a wee bit less.
Just a touch less, perhaps. Then, maybe a law enforcement officer in College Station, Texas, wouldn’t lose his game-day privileges after ramming through rival football players.
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The incident last weekend, caused by an unidentified Texas Department of Public Safety trooper, went viral during the SEC matchup between No. 3 Texas A&M and visiting South Carolina. It happened in the first half, when South Carolina, unranked and under .500, was shushing the attendants at Kyle Field into a slow burn. Just after outracing the Aggies’ secondary into the end zone, South Carolina wide receiver Nyck Harbor grabbed his right hamstring and decelerated all the way into a tunnel under the stands. Teammates followed Harbor into the darkness, and because he didn’t seem to be in a celebrating mood, four Gamecocks created a convoy to usher him back to the sideline.
That’s when Officer Friendly decided, right then and there, to barge his way into the narrow passage. With Harbor and teammate Oscar Adaway III nearly shoulder to shoulder, the trooper walked between them in a seemingly intentional way. The officer collided with Adaway and flailed his left elbow toward him, then reversed his course to turn and face Harbor. He stalked toward the player, pointing at him, hollering — in the same hostile manner someone with a badge and a service weapon would when confronting a menacing figure.
But Harbor wasn’t a threat; he was just the enemy whose touchdown had given South Carolina a 26-3 lead. In that moment, the state trooper behaved like a belligerent fan, and for that, the university immediately relieved him of his game-day duties.
Mississippi Secretary of State Michael Watson (R) hasn’t tried to shoulder-check Lane Kiffin yet. Rather, Watson just vacillates between informing Mississippi voters about the upcoming runoff election and rage-baiting the Rebels faithful.
Kiffin, that sly tactician with the wandering eye, has yet to fully shoot down rumors he is interested in taking another SEC job. If only Kiffin would tuck Mississippi fans to sleep at night with a Hotty Toddy and the reassuring words that he is happy in Oxford, then Watson’s social media activity might return to something more fitting of a public servant.
As it stands, apart from a bio that mentions he is “Mississippi’s 36th Secretary of State,” it’s hard to know what Watson does for a living. Perform the duties as the Keeper of the Capitol? Or obsess over Mississippi football? This weekend, Watson reposted a fan’s message about Texas A&M’s coach signing an extension to “squash rumors” and also jumped into the replies and even directly called out Kiffin.
“Couldn’t agree more. At some point, it’d be nice for our current coach (@Lane_Kiffin) to reciprocate the love and gratitude shown by our administration, players, fan base, and collective. It just shouldn’t be this hard,” Watson wrote, because it’s perfectly normal for the secretary of state to pressure a public university employee.
At least, it’s normal in the SEC. This is why, years ago, when my alma mater bounced from the Big 12 and joined this football-first conference, I was concerned. Unless everyone somehow started getting their kicks by competing in journalism lecture halls instead of football stadiums, Missouri was going to have a hard time against the Alabamas, Floridas and Georgias. At least when I attended Mizzou, matters of football did not overlap with the state leader, as it has in Louisiana, where Gov. Jeff Landry (R) has strong-armed the job of selecting the next football coach away from LSU’s athletic director.
“Hell, I’ll let Donald Trump select it before I let [Scott Woodward] do it,” Landry told reporters last month.
(Instead of combating Landry, who once criticized LSU women’s basketball players for not standing on the court during the national anthem and who shunned animal rights advocates when he supported having a live Bengal tiger rolled out in a cage at football games, Woodward wisely resigned.)
I mean, I thought we all liked football just fine in Missouri, but dang. Not like this. But now, when I watch Mizzou games on SEC Network and notice the construction around beloved Memorial Stadium, I understand. In the north end zone, where there once was a grassy section devoted to students and anchored by a big M created out of large rocks that freshmen painted white as part of tradition, there will soon be a $250 million expansion for VIP seating and luxury amenities. Apparently, even in Missouri, football just means more.
I guess the current college landscape demands more. And not just in the South, where Saturday congregants fill cathedrals in worship of a god named Gridiron. All across the country, these are no longer kids giving it the ol’ college try. Rather, they are millionaires we can bet on. And these aren’t just coaches on the hot seat — they are $54 million afterthoughts, paid generously to walk away months before the transfer portal opens.
College football keeps growing in influence as we allow it to play an outsize role in society — and in our lives. Still, it would benefit us all to take a beat and relax. Maybe spend a Saturday just relishing in the community of college football and protecting the shred of soul that remains. Instead of suffocating the joy out of the game and making it mean too much.
The post Hey, SEC, maybe it should mean just a bit less
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