The South: The Intruder

Hotty toddy,

Gosh almighty!

Who in the hell are we?

Hey!

Film! Flam! Bim! Bam!

Ole Miss, by damn!

The Ole Miss yell spiraled through the crisp sunlit air like a football passed by Chuckin' Charley Conerly of legendary lore. Boys, lean and brimming with youthful vigor, horseplayed around—almost as if they were unconscious of the pretty coeds who watched them. Right down to the blue and maroon freshman beanies, the scene was of the sort to make alumni hearts swell with bittersweet memories of days long gone. But beneath all the laughter, beneath all the seeming exuberance, was an ugly, constantly recurring question. "When," the...

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