I was also at the game, though not in the luxury box like Knuck. I was the rabble he met by the plebeian beerstand at halftime. Rabble, rabble, rabble.
The crowd was an interesting mix of Titans fans, Cowboy fans and Vol fans and their cross-sections. I’m not sure what the Venn Diagram would look like of the intersection of the three groups, but I’m pretty sure you would color it red.
The Titans fans would cheer when Albert Haynesworth made a good play to stop a run, and that would excite the Vol fans, but some of them were also Cowboy fans, so it would depress them. Then Jason Witten would make a bold catch over the middle, elating the Vol/Cowboy set, but deflating the Titan aficianados. When Haynesworth stomped on that guy’s unhelmeted head, the Vols, the Titans and the city were suitably embarassed. But then he apologized and took it like a man and made us all at least respect him a little bit. We’ll see how he handles the suspension that definitely should be forthcoming.
All these split-second moral decisions were too much for the average Vol fan’s brain to take as we all baked in the sun of a beautiful cloudless early autumn afternoon. You could hear their heads percussively exploding all over the stadium as they attempted to wrestle with ethical gray areas presented by the days events and their deep-rooted allegiences to the parties involved. It smelled a little bit like Kettle Corn.