If you live anywhere in the southeastern part of the United States, and if you listened carefully yesterday afternoon around three o’clock central time, you probably heard the sound of Sister and me screaming VERY LOUDLY INDEED as our beloved MSU Bulldogs clinched a piece of the SEC Western Division Championship in an awesomely lopsided victory against the Alabama Crimson Tide. 

(I totally just made up the word “awesomely,” by the way. It’s actually one of the nicer aspects of blogging, the making-up-words part.)

And if your reaction to that first paragraph is “What’s all this crazy talk about some short-legged dogs and a blood-red tide and some random letters from the alphabet and does this have anything at all to do with the Old Testament,” then I’m going to have to ask you to bear with me for a few minutes while I get my college basketball on.

This past Saturday I informed D. and Alex that due to the upcoming match-up between MSU and Bama, I was Officially Reserving the TV in our living room from one until three on Sunday afternoon. They were welcome to join me, of course, but they need not harbor any hopes of watching “Blue’s Clues” or “Heroes” or anything else. I had big plans for transforming our living room into a my own personal hillbilly sports bar – free-flowing diet Coke, all-you-can-eat peanuts, so many WOOOO-HOO!s flying around that you might just wonder if Bo and Luke Duke had stopped by for a visit – and I would not be deterred.

Now I have no idea why I can’t act, you know, normal as far as MSU sporting events are concerned. All I know is that if you put me anywhere near the vicinty of an MSU basketball game, it’s almost like some alien force takes over my body and transforms me from a relatively mild-mannered wife and mother into a delirious YOU’D BETTER DUNK THAT BALL RIGHT NOW OH YES SIR YOU’D BETTER lunatic.

And, for the record, I believe the “alien force” I mentioned is what The Doctors and The Scientists and The Mental Health Professionals refer to as THE CRAZIES.

When Emma Kate and I went to the State / LSU game a few weeks ago, she was very tickled (and somewhat alarmed) by my repeated use of the phrase “COME ON, NOW” during the basketball game. However, what EK did not realize is that screaming “COME ON, NOW” is Deeply Spiritual, and I know this because our former pastor used to say it frequently (albeit quietly) when he was particularly moved during a song or a sermon. I guess I took it upon myself to transfer “COME ON, NOW” from the sanctuary to the sporting arena, but please don’t judge me because at least I don’t scream “AMEN” when somebody hits a three-pointer at the buzzer.

Though I absolutely would if it were even remotely appropriate.

Needless to say, yesterday I yelled “COME ON, NOW” two or fifty four times, and about midway through the game, I noticed that I had somehow added another word and was actually shouting, “COME ON, NOW, SON.”

The only possible explanation for such strange diction is that at some point right before halftime I switched bodies with an 80 year old grandfather who was somewhat hard of hearing and apparently felt that if he referred to players by a familial moniker, the players would pay extra attention to him when he screamed instructions at them through the TV screen.

In the end, all the screaming and hillbillying and body-switching paid off. The Bulldogs won 91-67, and by late in the afternoon I was back to normal again. With “normal” being a relative term, of course.

But don’t worry, y’all: the SEC tournament starts in about three days, so you can rest assured that THE CRAZIES will be back on full display this Friday at noon when the Bulldogs take the court once again.

Normal never lasts long around these parts. Of this you can be sure.