The Deep South’s Oldest Column: The Flag with the Big Red X
How Alabama football brought a family together and became a source of pride for a family in Northern New Jersey.
By: Dr. B
Growing up in a small, upper-class town in Northern New Jersey had so many perks and my childhood hometown remains among my favorite places in the world. When visiting for the first time, my wife called it “Mayberry” after the idyllic town portrayed in The Andy Griffith Show. We had a tremendous public school system that included one elementary, one middle, and one high school that all kids in the town attended. I graduated with 116 of my best friends, many of which I remain in touch with to this day. It was, and still is, a wealthy town, and I remember a seventh grade English teacher telling us that we lived in the top 1%, and most likely, we would not be able to replicate our parent’s success. How encouraging.
The region was crazy about sports, and since we were located 45 minutes outside of New York City, athletic allegiances tended to fall along the lines of the professional teams in the area. No offense to Rutgers, the state university of New Jersey, but very few people I knew gave a rat’s ass about the Scarlet Knights. My neighbors and buddies were passionate about the New York Giants, Jets, Yankees, Mets, and Rangers. Our large family (I grew up with four brothers) embraced the sports scene as well, and we used to travel into the city to see the Rangers or the Yankees play and would catch an occasional Giants game at the Meadowlands complex that was located 30 minutes from our home.
In addition to professional sports, the town was passionate about our high school sports programs, and my brothers and I loved playing for our hometown. Our sports were primarily hockey, football, and lacrosse. My twin younger brothers and I were a part of a tradition-rich small public school football program that won often and in an attempt to be truly unique, carried its own original nickname that was different from the one carried by the school’s other sports. We were called “The Herd” (which stood for HUSTLE, ENTHUSIASM, ROUGHNESS and DESIRE) and we felt like it was an honor to be a Herdsman. We were also a part of a lacrosse program that won state championships and sent players, including my two younger brothers, to play at the highest level of collegiate lacrosse. The football and lacrosse programs were led by legendary head coaches that remain among my most impactful influences to this day, and it was an honor playing for such great men. In addition, it seemed like the entire town came out to support our teams and we always played in front of packed houses. To make matters even better, my parents rarely, if ever, missed one of our games.
In our sports-crazy town, our family went against the flow in one way. Outside of the local high school programs, our favorite team wasn’t a local professional entity, but one that played college football...in the deep south. Courtesy of my father, we were diehard Alabama Crimson Tide fans, and so much of what we did had an association with the Tide.
My dad was born and raised in Selma, Alabama, and as a boy in the 1940’s, he fell in love with Alabama football while listening to Tide games on the radio. His mother was an Auburn grad, and if his small radio picked up Tigers games, he would have been “War Eagle” all the way. Yet, the football gods shined favorably on my dad’s radio dial and he ended up Crimson. Dad was a driven man, incredibly successful as an entrepreneur, and he made great money to the degree that we lived in a beautiful house that overlooked a large lake on “the” road in town. In addition, we had a summer house in Cape Cod, which was a gift to my mom, who was, and remains today, an absolute saint. The Cape house was made complete with a 29-foot boat appropriately named “The Crimson Tide.” Dad was a pretty stoic individual who held his emotions close to his vest, so I felt like we never fully knew my father. Dad let go of his stoicism primarily on two occasions...when he got a few beers in him, thus transforming him into the life of the party, and the other occasion was when he watched his beloved Crimson Tide.
The smiles on Dad’s face were never bigger than on a Saturday watching the Tide play.
Dad shined at Christmas, as the giving of gifts was his primary love language. Oh, how he loved each December 25th, serving as an enthusiastic Santa (minus the outfit) on Christmas mornings, dispersing gifts and joy to all. Christmas was always an extravagant event in my house. Gifts for the boys ranged from telescopes to video collections to Jeep Wranglers, while my mom would receive expensive clothing, jewelry, and vacations. However, the crowning jewel in terms of gifts on Christmas was the last one revealed and it always had a Crimson Tide flavor. The last gift was usually a large portrait that depicted a piece of Bama history portrayed on canvas by an artist named Daniel Moore. Our family room was filled with such classic portraits as “Goal Line Stand” which depicted the famous 4th down stop in the 1978 Sugar Bowl victory over Penn State and one called “The Kick,” which chronicled the 53-yard field goal on the final play of the game that beat Auburn in the 1985 Iron Bowl. Those portraits filled our hearts and filled the walls of our living room, which was the place our family would gather and watch the Tide on Saturdays.
Artist: Daniel Moore, “Goal Line Stand”
Daniel Moore’s “Goal Line Stand,” a prominent piece in our family living room.
On those fortunate days when Bama games were aired (back then we didn’t have the smorgasbord of games we have today...each network would show only one game around the 3:30 time slot, and ESPN carried just one night game), we would crowd into the living room to watch the Tide. It was one of the few things we all did together, and my father would put aside his stoicism and let loose during, and after, Alabama games. No matter the game, Dad had his rituals. We had a flagpole in our front yard that flew the Stars and Stripes proudly every day...except fall Saturdays when the state flag of Alabama flew in its place. More than one person out of curiosity was known to ask “Who the hell is flying that white flag with the big red X?” The flag quickly became a symbol of pride and passion for our family. As for Dad, he was as passionate a fan could be on those Saturdays, and game days contain some of my best memories of him.
Growing up in New Jersey offered us few opportunities to see our beloved Crimson Tide live and in-person, but every once in a while, we were treated to a game when the Tide made a northern swing. Alabama and Penn State had a home and home series in the 1980s, and I remember traveling four hours to State College to see the Tide play the Nittany Lions in 1981 (won 31-16), 1985 (lost 19-17...ugh) and 1987 (won 24-13, as I only had one beer bottle thrown at me, and as I stood to celebrate a Tide touchdown, I only had one Penn State fan yell “Sit down, asshole”...not a bad evening in Western PA).
“Sit down, asshole!” most likely came after Bobby Humphrey’s 73 yard run in ‘87.”
For several years, the official college football season opener, called The Kickoff Classic, took place in Giant’s Stadium, and in 1986, Bama took on Ohio State and I vividly remember rushing from varsity football practice to the Meadowlands to see the Tide rally to score 10 points in the 4th quarter to take down the Buckeyes, 16-10. My favorite Alabama game attended with my family was when we rented a large van and drove straight through from northern New Jersey to New Orleans for the 1992 National Championship Sugar Bowl tilt against the Miami Hurricanes. One of my younger brothers was sick the entire trip, which forced us to stop every 45 minutes or so to allow him to puke his guts out on the side of the road. We eventually made it to “The Big Easy” and had a ball watching the Tide roll over the ‘Canes 34-13. My best memory of that evening occurred after the win when my sister-in-law ran through a crowd of Miami fans with an Alabama flag. ‘Canes fans were not happy, but too bad. My dad, of course, was on cloud nine throughout the entire trip, and I am not sure I ever saw him happier.
My dad was a good man. I speak of past tense due to the fact that he passed away unexpectedly in February 2016, and life has not been the same since. The final conversation we had was about Alabama’s recruiting class of 2016, and I think he would not have had it any other way. Looking back, I am so thankful that Dad passed on a love for the Crimson Tide and great respect for the SEC to me and my brothers, and we are passing on that love to our wives and kids. Dad’s legacy is alive and well in my house as game days continue to be ritualistic affairs. We wake up and announce to one another “It’s game day!” My wife’s favorite hat boasts “Gameday is the Best Day.” We don’t have a flagpole at our house, but we proudly fly Bama flags out the windows of our car on game day. My son, daughter, and wife watch every game with me in the family room, whose walls hold the iconic Daniel Moore prints I helped open on Christmas mornings as a child. We create, in that room, an elaborate tailgate every week complete with a cookie cake, chips, dip, corn dogs, tater skins, candy, and Mountain Dews. After every touchdown, my son, daughter, and I exchange running chest-bumps as we cherish every score. Calls are made throughout each game to my brothers and Mom during commercial breaks to discuss the key plays. Fall Saturdays are my favorite days of the year, as we are making valuable and unique memories as a family...and I have my Dad to thank for that.
My little Tide fans ready for a full day of family “tailgating” and cookie cake.
Yes, I admit that I am an Alabama football fanatic, as I can rattle off scores and details of Crimson Tide games from decades ago. Based on the SEC fans I have met throughout the years, I am far from alone. As fans of teams in this conference, we are fanatic about our programs and about college football in general. As the saying goes, in the SEC, “it just means more.” There are many outside of our conference who look at us and shake their heads at our
fanaticism, calling us crazy, saying our priorities are out of whack. Some just don't get why football means so much to us. After all, they are just games, right? I understand that and can see that point of view. However, to us, it is more than a game. It is culture...our culture, and it’s an integral part of our DNA. I believe it’s a phenomenon that connects families to a past and reminds us that we are a part of something that is so much bigger than ourselves. To me and my family, it is important and it just means so much more.
For me, Alabama football isn’t just about Coach Saban, Bear Bryant, national championships, and winning. Don’t get me wrong...I love pulling for a team that carries a rich tradition and wins a lot, as the success of the program does add to the fun of our college football Saturdays (it hasn’t always been that way...I was alive during the DuBose era). But it’s so much more to me than that. Alabama football, to me, is about my Dad and how our family truly connected through the Crimson Tide. It is about the pride of having the Alabama state flag flying on cold, northern New Jersey fall afternoons. It’s about connecting with enthusiasm with my kids as we pick out this week’s cookie cake and it’s about chest-bumping with them after every Tide touchdown. And it is all about its ability to somehow cut through personal and collective sorrow and tragedy in a blaze of Crimson glory. It means more to me because, for better or worse, it’s a part of who I am and who my family is...and it holds my favorite memories of my father.
The house in the idyllic home town was sold years ago, and the Cape Cod house is gone as well. The boat is gone too, yet one thing has endured: our collective love and respect for the Alabama football program.
So who the hell was the guy in Northern Jersey flying the white flag with the big red X? Yep...that was my Dad.