clock menu more-arrow no yes mobile

Filed under:


New, 2 comments

HP has a great summary of Bruce Feldman's Top Ten Venues, as well as some solid contributions of his own. We pride ourselves on speed-just ask our wife about that-so here's our top three, rather than ten, taken from admittedly limited experience in the Southeast.
Anyone who wants to offer us tickets to educate us, please leave your offers below. We'll be there with a vodka tonic in hand.
1. Florida State.. Loud, and frightening as hell when the war chant gets going. The architecture of the place screws with you--regal, brick elegance from the outside, bare, grey and spare on the interior. Entering as a rival is putting yourself in the head of Joe Pesci in Goodfellas; one minute you're walking into the house about to be made, and then you see the room where they've got the tarp spread out to catch your bleeding, dead body. Funny red-stater fans, too, who know how to put on a good spread and flat-out drink a hole in their solo cups.
2. LSU. Crazy-ass cajuns coming up from the swamps. Rednecks streaming down from the hills. An indescribable amount of booze coursing through the collective bloodstream of the fan base. And loads of yellow and purple, a combination with a preternatural ability to raise waves of anxiety in the mind. The best-sounding band in college football helps, too, as does the Louisiana smorgasbord surrounding the stadium. We're betting you there's more cholesterol in two hundred yards of Baton Rouge tailgating than there is in the entire nation of China. Tiger stadium is zesty as a bag of Jalapeno Zapp's.
3. Auburn. They put your team logo in flowers in the endzone corners. Alumni tote around quarts of George Dickel and gallon bags of off-brand Chee-tos. Toomer's Corner. Jordan-Hare pronounced Jerdan -Hare. Nice people who lack the "sports-sociopathic" vibe of 'Bama fans. (No offense, Bama fans, but it's you and English soccer fans neck and neck for the sheer, crazed obsession title.) They care, but not to a scary extent, a sanguine vibe about their sport reflected by Tommy Tuberville's phone number still being in the Auburn phone book. A warm fuzzy all around, even if you lose. (Almost.)