For me, Alabama college football brought about belonging.

Some children were told fairy tales, stories of faraway princesses singing with animals in beautiful dresses. The folklore present in my childhood was… very different. The folkloric figure I read about was Paul “Bear” Bryant, the greatest football coach of all time. My dad had bear-faced glass bottles hanging on the walls of his bachelor apartment. My dad insisted I knew who Bear was. When I was 4 years old, I could identify him in every photo. Alabama football coaches Bear Bryant and Nick Saban are gods among men at Alabama. I remember my grandmother telling me during a particularly bad election that she wished Nick Saban would run for governor. And I think he would win in a landslide without his policies being taken into account in the slightest.

I bled purple and white. When I was 4 years old, I had an Alabama cheer uniform that I wore regularly. Alabama football dominated every conversation with my father’s family, whose wardrobe was a testament to pure, unwavering devotion. I was proud to be a Bama fan. Saying “Roll Tide” is both an exclamation for the excitement in my everyday life and a rallying cry for AJ McCarron and every other legendary quarterback after him to lead us to another national championship at just seven years old. I remember the headline “DO SO GOOD” after a narrow win against Clemson in 2016 and the overtime clock ticking as we beat Georgia in 2018. I screamed so loudly that I thought I had woken up my entire neighborhood.

This experience is anything but unique. Alabama Crimson Tide clothing dominated the wardrobe of most people, especially men over 40. Hats, polo shirts, and even shoes were marked with the Alabama “A,” the direct inverse of a scarlet letter. It was the logo of champions that inspired pride and unalloyed joy in both the wearer and the viewer. Nick Saban – my former coach and later governor – never failed to bring me and those I disagreed with together under the purple lights of Bryant-Denny Stadium in a way that even on Sundays at 10:30 Clock in the church no comparison was possible.

Until I decided to attend the University of Michigan. The 2023-24 football season was magical for every student, but especially for me. I grew up with national championship trophies being the expectation, not the goal – more of an obligation than a dream.

I have to be honest and say that I doubted Michigan would get this far. Whenever I heard that Michigan and Alabama were playing each other, the fear was ever-present. It was me – a new UM fan – against absolutely everyone else, because regardless of whether you were an Alabama fan or not, the general consensus at home was: These Northerners couldn’t win. SEC is just different. On the couch with my brother-in-law, the inevitable doom I envisioned for Michigan became an unexpected success. An Alabama loss has never tasted so sweet. It Was Michigan against everyone, and the team I thought was untouchable was underpowered against the Wolverines.

It was, in a way, a loss of religion. Nick Saban and the Alabama football players were the superheroes of my childhood. Tua Tagovailoa and his undeniable ability to turn a game around. Jalen Hurts and his legendary throws. Julio Jones and his perfect runs. To most people these were legends in the making, but to me they were more like biblical characters. Then Michigan football won the College Football Playoff National Championship. I screamed so loudly at Crisler Center that everything around me went black. After an overtime win at Alabama, I ran to South University Avenue with even more excitement than my grandfather.

It was the most cohesive group of people I had ever seen.

Even more than Alabama fans.

Football has been at the center of my life for as long as I can remember. I thought it was about the team. I thought that maize, blue, purple and white were the fuels of my love for football. But after a disappointing season in which I saw Michigan completely outrun the teams that were hard to beat, I realized that I don’t care about the team or even the coach. I care about the community it’s given me – the opportunity to talk to my grandfather about something he’s actually interested in, to explain to friends what the yellow line that the jumbotron shows on the field means, and when it’s icy Cold to join “The Victors” Rain. That’s what football is all about, football. That’s what I love.

I bleed maize and blue, purple and white and any other colors that allow me to scream at the top of my lungs with people I love.

Daily Arts writer Sarah Patterson can be reached at [email protected].

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