My favorite Iron Bowl? There's no question: 1985. If you don't mind reading a long post, here's the story:
While waiting in an I-20 football traffic jam a couple of miles from Legion Field, my car's gas pump failed. With my teen-age brother in tow (I was driving him from our family's house in north Georgia to see his first Alabama game), I left locked it up and we started walking toward the stadium (Just a reminder - there weren't a whole lot of cell phones around back then). As we walked, we came upon a police officer directing traffic. Hearing our story, he took pity on us, gave me the name, address, and phone number of a towing service and garage, and said he'd take care of things. I could call the garage and talk to them after the game and/or the next day. I gave him my keys and we kept on walking. Since my brother had to be home the next morning and I'd planned on driving home after the game, we had no luggage to worry about or hotel in which to stay. I didn't care. We were going to that game. I was still an Alabama student, so I had driven home from Tuscaloosa a couple of days earlier. I had my student ticket and had intended to arrive early enough to buy a student-guest ticket for my brother or trade and pay for two reserved seats. (The only reason I didn't buy his ticket ahead of time is that I didn't know he wanted to go until the night before the game. I had planned on meeting up with friends a few hours before kick-off and then sitting in the student section, as usual. Once my little brother wanted to go, my plans changed. How could I deny my brother the Bulldog fan a chance to see real football -- The Iron Bowl, at that -- and perhaps turn him from the dark side?)
Well, all of those plans were shot. By the time we finally made it on foot to Legion Field, it was about 5 minutes before kick-off. My friends had long since decided I wasn't coming and had gone to their seats. Sitting in the student section would have been miserable, even if we could have found a student-guest ticket. I located a scalper who was looking to get rid of a few extra he hadn't sold and for $100 bought the two best he said he had left -- about 5 rows up in the end zone, surrounded by barners. We hustled to our seats, squeezed in, and watched my favorite game ever.
My brother was so scared (and angry) about the whole situation that it took him a while to start caring about the game. Most of the time, he kept asking how I could leave my keys with a stranger and what were my plans for getting him home safely. My response was to give him concession money so he would shut up. I wanted to watch the Iron Bowl. All that stuff could wait until it was over. I didn't tell him that part. I just told him not to worry: I had taken care of everything. (By everything, I meant I had no plan at all).
As the last couple of minutes of the game approached, things were miserable. My brother couldn't be bribed with Cokes and hot dogs any longer, I was being verbally abused by the barners around us, and we were losing. Then Alabama got the ball and started a drive. As fate had decided, the action was moving away from us, but that was OK. Shula and our offense were making some big plays. Finally, it came down to Van Tiffin and that 52-yard field goal attempt. When the ball was snapped and Tiffin's foot sent it spinning on its fantastic journey, it seemed as if nothing existed but that football. Then it floated through the uprights and the world went crazy. The stadium was roaring the air was vibrating, and I felt -- well, if joy had been a finite resource, at that moment the rest of the world would have burst into tears.
After the game, I found another officer and explained our plight. He made a couple of calls and then drove us to the lot that held my car so we could get a couple of things out of it. With a little bit of hope, I tried to start it. The engine started right up, I paid someone there about $100 and drove back to Georgia. I left the car running when we refueled, never really stopping until we got home.
Regrettably, my brother remained a Georgia fan and still doesn’t like talking about that day. As for me, I'd give anything to relive it all again. I still love to listen to that radio braodcast: "...and the state of Alabama is Crimson."