There was a man and a dog, Reveille, too this time. Two beasts, counting Tony, the landshark, and two men, counting his father and his father’s friend Sawyer. The boy was eighteen. For ten years now he had been coming to games with his father. For ten years now he had seen Ole Miss win and lose games, had heard the shouts and calls of fans in Vaught-Hemingway, had heard in the long drive back to Jackson after a win the best of all talking. Now, though, the talk was of the wilderness, the long bowl drought, stretching to its fourth year, longer than any stretch he’d yet endured in his fandom.
Light (Beer) in August: A Faulknerian Preview of the Ole Miss-Texas A&M game
