Exorcism at Steve Spurrier Field: Part One

Note:  This entry addresses the aftermath of events described in the previous (8/13) post.


It was, of course, entirely my fault. When my trip to Las Vegas ended and I returned to Johnson City, I assumed all was well with the world. I thought that the strange occurrences and synchronicities that shadowed me for more than a week had ended quietly with my return to the Tri-Cities Airport. I had bidden goodbye to Mickey Bible and deplaned. Nothing unusual happened in the following days. No odd connections or inexplicable resonating events. Things seemed to have returned to simple normalcy.

Just as in the beginning of the seminal film, The Exorcist, however, festering is often a slow, quiet burn. And just as in the movies, animals often detect evil much more quickly than we humans.

My friend, Tony, was celebrating his birthday. He is a diehard Tennessee Vols fan, so I bought him an orange hat with the trademark white T.  It was a good looking hat. Tennessee was scheduled to open the 2019 season a week later as 26-point favorites at home against lowly Georgia State. Tony was pleased with his birthday present and said he was looking forward to cheering on the Vols.

A couple of days later, I was having lunch with Tony and a few other friends. Tony tapped my arm and pointed to his phone. He scrolled down to a photo of the new hat, which looked as if it had been ravaged by Dire Wolves. I was close. Tony's German Shepherd had found the hat and savaged it. I joked that maybe this was an ominous omen for the Vols' season. It turns out that the hat was a just a portent of disasters to come.

Thursday, August 29, I cleaned out my suitcase from the Las Vegas trip. I took my tan Skechers out of their plastic bag and noticed some debris in the tread. Locust debris. Pieces of the swarms that had flooded Las Vegas during my visit. The same locusts that The Exorcist 2 described as vessels of the demon, Pazuzu. At the time, I did not realize the significance. I simply cleaned my shoes and put them away.

Friday, August 30, I finally understood. The Science Hill High School football team, a local power that plays at Steve Spurrier Field, had never lost to the David Crockett Pioneers. That evening, a few miles away in Jonesborough, David Crockett utterly crushed Science Hill 62-34. The result was beyond stunning. It was apocalyptic.

I began to suspect that something was awry. Had I somehow brought the demon, Pazuzu, back from Las Vegas with me? And was it manifesting itself in eastern Tennessee by corrupting that most sacred of religious traditions, southern football?

The next afternoon confirmed my suspicions. First, the local college team, the East Tennessee State Buccaneers, an FCS playoff squad in 2018, traveled across the mountain to Boone, North Carolina. They played Appalachian State and were crushed like grapes, 42-7. Then came the coup de grace. Ninety miles to the west, in Knoxville, the Tennessee Vols were 26-point favorites against a Georgia State team that had been 2-10 in 2018. That's 2-10 in the Sun Belt. Tennessee, overwhelmingly superior by all personnel standards, lost convincingly 38-30. Not only that, but the University of Tennessee had paid Georgia State almost a million dollars for making the trip. The wailing from Neyland Stadium was carried on the wind, banshee-like, to the entirety of eastern Tennessee..

In the span of 24 hours, the unthinkable had happened twice with the Science Hill and Vols losses, and ETSU's playoff veneer had been stripped as if by a blowtorch. Football Pazuzu had possessed eastern Tennessee.