It doesn’t matter if you bleed crimson or orange, chant “Go Dawgs” or “Roll Tide,” or whether your heart beats faster under the lights of Death Valley or the shadow of Touchdown Jesus — this week, college football wasn’t divided by rivalries. It was united. And it was Josh Heupel who brought us there.
Because this weekend in Knoxville, Heupel didn’t just call a play. He made a stand — one that echoed louder than any stadium chant.
While the sport we love barrels headlong into an era of TV deals, transfer portals, and NIL negotiations, Heupel turned the spotlight away from the money and the noise. He turned it back toward something that’s been fading, quietly but steadily: the soul of college football.
Heupel’s decision, whatever it was on the surface — a fourth-down gamble, a controversial benching, or maybe even just refusing to run up the score — wasn’t just a coaching move. It was a message. A throwback. A defiant, unapologetic shout into the corporate winds swirling around the game.
He stood up for Saturday mornings that smell like charcoal smoke and fresh-cut grass. For the sound of the band warming up two blocks away. For dads teaching their daughters how to sing the fight song, and for sons watching wide-eyed as the marching band thunders past. He stood up for tailgates built on loyalty and for bleachers filled not just with fans, but with family.
In that moment, Heupel reminded us what this game used to be: not a business, but a heartbeat. Not a spectacle, but a story passed down from generation to generation, wrapped in school colors and timeless pride.
Was it risky? Of course it was. It’s always risky to stand still when the world demands you move. But sometimes, to protect what matters, you have to stop and plant your feet. And Heupel did just that.
So whether you’re yelling “War Eagle” or “Hook ‘Em,” whether your Saturdays are painted in maize, garnet, or burnt orange — this week, you should be shouting something else:
Thank you, Josh.
For reminding us that tradition still matters. That pride isn’t just a marketing campaign. And that college football — the real kind — isn’t dead yet.
Not if we stand with you.
