It is a September Saturday morning, and the tribes have begun to move. The interstate highways that lace the South start to clog up with a glut of cars, campers and $25,000 motor homes complete with beds, baths, color TVs and banner-streaming antennas. Citizen's Band radios howl with rebel yells, chants and incantations: Eat 'em up, Dogs! Get 'em, Gators! Roll, Tide! The college football season has arrived. Everyone who could ferret out a ticket is going to The Game. Which The Game? It doesn't matter. The South is renewing its annual passion, and...
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