HOW I BECAME A VANDERBILT FAN

Some of my fellow Vanderbilt fans don't like it that I've named this blog "Moral Victory." But you've got to hold onto something, and for 22 years as a Commodore fan — the first four of those as a Vanderbilt student — I have drawn strength and a measure of hope from each moral victory, of which there have been quite a few.

Now the Commodores are 5-0 (five real victories and not a single moral one) and appear to be turning the corner. We're one win away from not having a losing regular season and two wins away from a winning season.

I'm not taking anything for granted.

Anyway, I wanted to share with you a column published Saturday in the Columbus (Ga.) Ledger-Enquirer, where I work as a news editor. Thanks for reading my blog, and feel free to leave a comment; it's pretty easy to do.

Thanks again,

Dimon Kendrick-Holmes

CONFESSIONS OF A VANDERBILT FAN

I was almost a winner.

Really.

I was a high school senior headed to Auburn, where I planned to attend class occasionally and never miss a football game. It was the only university I’d applied to. I had a “Bo Go Bo” T-shirt and everything.

My friends were headed to Auburn too. We had our apartment picked out, in walking distance of Jordan-Hare Stadium. It had a patio for grilling and one of those refrigerators that instantly produced cold beverages.

But a few months before graduation, I got a letter from the Army informing me that I’d received an Army ROTC scholarship. I’d forgotten I’d applied for one. It was good for four years’ tuition to any university that would take me.

For kicks, I decided to apply to the most expensive school I could think of: Vanderbilt. It was a long shot – for obvious reasons, but also because the application deadline had expired months earlier and Vanderbilt had already selected its freshman class.

But the nice people at the Vanderbilt admissions office told me to write “Army scholarship” in huge letters at the top of the application. I used the fattest marker I could find. Red ink. In the essay, I compared myself to the fisherman in “The Old Man and the Sea.” Or maybe the fish. I forget.

I got in. My parents were surprised. My teachers were surprised. My friends were surprised. If a guy like me could get into Vanderbilt, they said, it was my duty to go – and then when I flunked out I could tell people I’d attended Vanderbilt.

So I went to Vanderbilt.

It was not a bad choice, of course. After I realized I had to attend class more than occasionally, I got a good education. I met my wife. I went to the Country Music Hall of Fame and ate ham and biscuits at the Loveless Café.

And I never missed a home football game.

After so many games at Jordan-Hare, I had to adjust to Vanderbilt football. The stadium was smaller, the band was smaller, the players were smaller, the numbers on the home side of the scoreboard were smaller. One year we lacked depth in the secondary, so the coaches converted one of our cheerleaders to defensive back. It was a male cheerleader, if you’re wondering.

In my four seasons at Vanderbilt, the Commodores won nine games, three of those against Southeastern Conference teams.

Over at Auburn, my buddies won 39 games in their four years, including 21 conference games. Oh, and they went to four bowls.

We’d see each other in the summer and over the holidays. They’d yell War Eagle a lot and I’d say they were going to work for me someday.

I’d have to say I was happier. I mean, they’d go nuts if they didn’t win every game by four touchdowns. They were always talking about firing the offensive coordinator. Me, I was proud of the fact that the Commodores had almost beaten Alabama twice and almost beaten Tennessee three times.

In 2001, I lived up in Tennessee and had Vanderbilt season tickets. Four seats, six games, $120. I’m not kidding. We played Auburn that year and I invited one of my old Auburn buddies to come up for the game.

Auburn had a freshman tailback named Cadillac Williams. Maybe you’ve heard of him. Cadillac ripped off a 51-yard touchdown run in the first quarter. Vanderbilt had a senior tailback named Lew Thomas. No, you’ve never heard of him. Lew scored a touchdown and tied the game.

Auburn had a freshman quarterback named Jason Campbell. Maybe you’ve heard of him. Campbell threw a long touchdown pass to give Auburn the lead. Lew scored another touchdown and tied the game.

Then Cadillac scored another touchdown. Lew bulled his way downfield and then the Commodores threw a touchdown pass and tied the game.

My buddy was getting nervous. So were all the other Auburn fans sitting around us. “We’re going to lose to Vanderbilt!” they moaned. “Our season’s over!”

I knew better. “Calm down,” I said. “You’ll win the game.”

“How do you know?” they asked.

“Because I’m a Vanderbilt season ticket holder,” I said.

They kept on whining. Fire the offensive coordinator! Fire the defensive coordinator! Get out the jet and go find another coach!

Then Auburn kicked a field goal to take the lead. Then Lew moved us downfield, all the way to the 26 yard line. He was unstoppable. Now it was fourth and one. Less than a minute left in the game. Our kicker had a weak leg. Commodore fans were yelling for us to give Lew the ball.

We lined up for a field goal.

“It’s over,” my friend said. “We should have never fired Terry Bowden.”

“Shut up,” I said.

And then it happened. For Commodore fans, the end result is never a surprise, but how it happens is always fascinating.

We faked the field goal. Our holder was running the option. And he was trying to pitch. To the field goal kicker. Whose eyes were big as saucers.

Then Auburn fans were patting me on the back. “You’re a genius!” they said. “You knew exactly what was going to happen!”

I do have a degree from Vanderbilt, I said.


(Columbus Ledger-Enquirer, Oct. 4, 2008)