Fried Green Tomatoes (www.eatfgt.com), a comfort food place in the Birmingham suburb of Hoover, is an offshoot of the Irondale Café across town, which was the inspiration for the Whistle Stop Café in Fannie Flagg’s popular novel, Fried Green Tomatoes at the Whistle Stop Café. The food at Fried Green Tomatoes is mostly seasonal and locally sourced. It offers dine-in and take-out, has a friendly staff and a casual vibe, and has been a great place to have close-by during the pandemic.
It’s popular with the after-church crowd on Sundays and I was standing in a long line waiting to order take-out on a recent Sunday afternoon. I was masked and trying to stay socially distanced, standing against a wall near the door and leaving enough room to let people pass. There was plenty of room to cross in front of me; even so, a woman got up in my face, rudely saying “Excuse me!” I tried to press myself even tighter against the wall. Moving on, she shrieked “War Eagle!” twice to the couple next in line to me, looking back and snarling at me the whole way out (she wasn’t masked, so I could see the snarl). The two fellas with her followed suit (“Excuse me! War Eagle!”)
These are crazy times indeed.
When they were out the door, I glanced at the couple next to me and saw that the man was wearing an Auburn shirt. I was wearing a houndstooth mask. It all became clear. I had just been figuratively slimed by an Auburn fan. My mask must have been a trigger for the woman’s unpleasant outburst. We’re all on edge these days, I guess.
In 1995, I bought a houndstooth scarf at Lazarus department store in Evansville, Indiana, on a wet and cold day. This purchase was years before houndstooth had become so associated with the attire of my alma mater, the University of Alabama. I liked the scarf, didn’t associate it with the University at the time, and still wear it sometimes when it’s cold enough. I was amused a few years later when the University began to exploit the design. I was a student at Alabama during the “Bear” Bryant era and he didn’t always wear houndstooth hats; there are plenty of images of him wearing checkerboard and plaid patterns, too. Still, if you’re going to adopt a fashion statement for sports iconography, houndstooth is a pretty stylish way to go.
Around the time, in the early 2000s, when Alabama football fans began to flaunt houndstooth, I would get a “Roll Tide” any time I wore the scarf. Since I don’t really mind an exchange of “Roll Tide,” I respond appropriately and move on, not bothering to explain that the scarf was never about football for me. I will admit, however, that the houndstooth face mask was a conscious choice.
I take great and justifiable pride in Alabama’s football legacy and I am aware that on occasion some of our fans step over the line. I have not forgotten the idiot who poisoned the live oaks at Auburn’s Toomer’s Corner (live oaks that were already being slowly killed, unfortunately, by the Auburn tradition of toilet papering them whenever Auburn won a game – and power-washing them to get the paper out the next day). And I am embarrassed by the fact that Alabama sorority rushees’ TikTok posts went viral during the recent Fall Rush. I have long considered Alabama’s greek system of fraternities and sororities to be the biggest blemish on the University’s reputation.
I am reminded of an incident in Pasadena in 2010 when Alabama won its first national championship of the Saban era. On the day of the Rose Bowl, an Alabama fan, who had probably partied too much early in the day, took to an intersection to scream “Roll Tide” to all who passed. A demure Alabama fan left her seat at a sidewalk café and rested her hand on his shoulder. “Honey,” she said, “you need to settle down. We don’t do that sort of thing out in the middle of the street. Save that for the Rose Bowl tonight.”
Which brings me back to my “War Eagle” woman at Fried Green Tomatoes. I am irritated by that huge chip Auburn people seem to have on their shoulders about Alabama’s football dominance. Frankly, I don’t pay much attention to Auburn football until Iron Bowl week – the week of the annual showdown between the intrastate rivals. Beyond that, Auburn football, for me, is like a gnat – an occasional annoyance, but no big deal. I am quick to point out Auburn’s good veterinary medicine and architecture programs, but the football team and its succession of milquetoast coaches don’t occupy much of my attention. Even on the occasions when Auburn beats Alabama on Thanksgiving weekend, the sting is gone by Monday morning.
Auburn won its second national football championship in school history in 2010. Their first was in 1957. Based on that average, they might have their next national championship around 2063.
I’m pretty sure I can take a pass on that. Roll Tide.
Love reading your essays Ed! Although I live in Tuscaloosa and graduated from UA as well, I am not into the football thing, however, most everyone I love is so I am always glad when it’s a W.
Well, Roll Tide to you, Edward. As a born-and-bred Chicago Bears fan, I tend to sympathize with Auburn’s underdog status and the decades’ wait between championships. College football mania in the South caught me by surprise when I moved here, and, frankly, I’ve come to really enjoy the overwrought rivalries. Gives us something besides the damn delta variant to think about. And as for houndstooth, I salute your very Duke-and-Duchess-of-Windsor haberdashery and say Roll Edward.
Thanks, Nancy. I try to avoid football rivalry essays as a rule, but I guess the woman at FGT triggered me a bit. Plus, as you say, it’s a distraction. My NFL faves, by the way, are the Saints and the Steelers, so feast or famine is nothing new to me.