Stuperstition

su‧per‧sti‧tion 
–noun 1. a belief or notion, not based on reason or knowledge, in or of the ominous significance of a particular thing, circumstance, occurrence, proceeding, or the like.
2. a system or collection of such beliefs.
3. a custom or act based on such a belief.
4. irrational fear of what is unknown or mysterious, esp. in connection with religion.
5. any blindly accepted belief or notion.

By its very definition it's safe to say that superstition is unreasonable and falliable, but does that stop any of us from believing in it? No. Take me for example, in the 2001 Ole Miss vs. Alabama game at Vaught-Hemingway stadium, I spent the better part of the 3rd quarter and the entire 4th quarter looking straight down at a wet spot in the stands. Why? Because when I originally did it on an Alabama third down, we held and got the ball back. Clearly this position was working for me. Of course I had to stick with it, and I did for nearly an hour straight. Sure I had one of the all-time worst cricks in the neck and didn't see a single 4th quarter minute of the Rebels first victory over the Tide in nearly two decades, but that's not important. What's important is that my looking down at a wet spot won the Rebels the game.

It's things like this that make being superstitious seem justifiable. I can think of numerous occassions where I've looked down, up, held the remote in a certain way, stood on one foot, or sacrificed a goat at halftime. Can't you? And you did all for the betterment of your team. For the most part people accept your superstitions. You might get asked the initial, "Why in the world is there bull scrotum in your mouth and your face covered in cream cheese?" But once you explain that you are doing it for the guys on the field/court/diamond, the acceptance is almost immediate. It's not just fellow fans and peers that accept this behavior, even your opponents fans will admire you for doing whatever it takes to get your beloved team over the hump.

Take for instance my acceptance of a usually hated and despised LSU fan two Saturday's ago in Tiger Stadium. It was 20-7 good guys (Rebels) late in the 3rd quarter. He had been trying everything to give his Tigers a spark. Voodoo, mixing drinks to wash away the pain, kissing his sister/girlfriend/tranny, bowing (which I've heard is a traditional LSU move), etc... Nothing was working.

Here he is bowing:


Then it hit him like a ton of meth...I'll take my pants off. He didn't need to explain himself to me, a huge superstition believer as mentioned earlier, but he went ahead. "Shit, it worked against Florida." As the da in Florida rolled off his pierced tongue, he unzipped his jeans and lowered them to the ground. It was then I knew we were fucked. Not just because I was staring directly into his anoooooooooose (Borat), but because he had found the answer to the Tiger's troubles. No more than seconds after his lycra tights were hit by the cool Baton Rouge air, things began to unravel for the Rebels. Ole Miss head coach Ed Orgeron, a huge believer in voodoo and superstition stemming from his Louisiana roots, was also immediately effected. It was no coincidence that right after Joe Dirt's snakehead belt buckle was unfanged and his jeans hit the concrete that Orgeron opted to bench Brent Schaeffer and put in walk-on Seth Adams. Coincidence...I think not. Orgeron had been overwhelmed by one mans belief that ditching his britches would lead not only to getting in his sisters pants, but a Tiger victory and preservation of their BCS hopes.

Those of us close to the Rebels, Tigers, or SEC football know the rest of the story as far as the game is concerned. The Tigers would go on to score 16 unanswered points and take an overtime victory from the Rebels. As the Rebel section sat bewildered and sickened by yet another close victory or choke, I couldn't help but feel responsible. Surely there was more I could have done. I could have lowered my pants, exposed myself, or even killed a child. I hadn't evoked the certain something that would lead my team to victory. Instead, I idly sat and watched another man become the single greatest patagonia legging advertisement this world will ever know. Should I have instigated something with the Tiger faithful and forcefully put this mans pants back on? If I had been able to lift his pants up, would I have even been able to refasten the fangs of the snakehead back into the belt, thereby securing his pants? I don't know the answers because folks, I was too weak to try. I'm to blame.

You see, desperate times call for desperate measures. As cliche' as that phrase is, it is oh so true. This man didn't care about the frigid night air causing embarrassingly obvious shrinkage that would clearly be visible while wearing only tights. He didn't give a Borat's bag of poop. He did it to keep hope alive for his team, and it worked.

So, let this post be a wake-up call to all of you fans out there. If your team is down, or looks as if it's about to go down don't be afraid to let your pants down. There's a chance that it might not be the appropriate avenue of superstition and you will look like a fool, or even be arrested, but is that a chance your willing to take to win the game? It's a chance I won't pass up again.

I leave you with this to further prod you along towards finding that little bit of luck that is out there for all of us to grasp:




After his team had just nailed the game-winning field goal in overtime, Joe Dirt sat, and recollected about all the great accomplishments he had achieved in his life. All of them paled in comparison to that brisk November night when against the Rebels of Ole Miss, he took down his pants to help the Tiger's to victory.