So you think your team has arrived. How cute.
So your team finished an improbable season in 2013, sneaking up on everyone they played in an anomoly of a year. That is awesome.
Now do it again.
Do it when everyone has their game with your team circled on their schedule. Do it when, for other programs, beating your team defines their season, regardless of the results in other games.
String together another season where it takes every team you play being at their best and you at your worst in order for them to beat you.
Heck, string together two back-to-back 10-win+ seasons before you claim you’ve arrived (sorry Auburn, ’88 & ’89…your only stint…was an eternity ago). Do it 14 times and get back with me.
Let me know when your team crosses the threshold of a 90% or higher winning percentage over five seasons.
Let me know when defeating your program becomes the benchmark of success. When your logo or name ignites an opposing fanbase because they want to believe their team is nearing the success that yours is known for.
When you darken the door of a thing called “sustained success,” and don’t just talk about sustained success, send me a telegram.
When coaches of other programs spend more time watching your team’s game film than film from any other opponent…get back with me.
When you dip your preverbial toe in the pool of success more than once, before being thrust back into the shadows by the pains of reality, pop me an email.
When your coach can tell your fanbase “Nick Saban’s run is over” by longterm, on-the-field success, NOT just by a boast to koolaid drinking boners at a booster event, I’ll sit up and listen.
Holla when 11-2 and 10-3 are bad years for your school.
Let me know when “Beat (your school’s name here)” becomes the definition of success for programs…pick one, any one…across the country.
Let me know when you have more rivals than you’re even aware of because EVERYBODY looks as you as their rival, mainly because your team has kicked their asses so many times it has invoked a hatred in them for your school that’s difficult, if not impossible, to define.
Let me know when your program steps into the double-digit category for National Championships. Or even the conference variety.
Let me know when your team wins it all three times out of the last five tries. Not one every fifty years, or just getting “to” the big game.
Let me know when your program brings home the hardware and doesn’t have to slump off the field amid somebody else’s confetti.
Heck, let me know when geographically the majority of fans even know where your school is.
Let me know when rival fans of your school run their mouths incessantly in the offseason because they know in their hearts…with very little convincing…that their team can’t replicate what they witnessed the previous season…because fantasies, EA Sports simulations and DVR replays are all they’ll soon have.
Inform me kindly when your program blows your biggest rival out of the stadium by scores like 36-0, 42-14 or 49-0…in lieu of nail biters where the planets have to align just right in your favor. I mean, do this just once…on occasion.
Let me know when your program doesn’t have a coach who has only worn the big boy pants for two seasons.
Let me know when the coach you want so much to believe is the real deal owns not one, not two, not three, but FOUR national titles.
And let me know when your team sells out your stupid stadium when OUR team isn’t also playing there that day.
The fact is, Alabama is “Alabama” for a reason, and your team is not. Despite any recent, short-term success, facts are facts.
Alabama still owns college football. And Alabama, despite any recent luck, still owns your teams’ football program.
No matter how hard it is to swallow, let me know when what I’ve just force fed you isn’t true.
Thought so. Roll Tide!