by Ben Austen
Last January, two weeks after the Auburn Tigers vanquished the Oregon Ducks for the national championship, Paul Finebaum, the host of a radio sports show in Birmingham, took a call from a listener who went by the name "Al." Al's real name, police would later learn, was Harvey Updyke. A 62-year-old retired Texas highway patrolman, Updyke had moved to Alabama only two years before to be close to his favorite football team, the Crimson Tide. His first year in his new home, he'd attained sports-fan nirvana. The Tide had won the 2009 national title, and Updyke had been in the stands to see it. His second year in Alabama was more like sports-fan hell.
In November he'd pilgrimaged to Tuscaloosa for the Iron Bowl, the regular-season Auburn-Alabama showdown. In the second half, the Tigers overcame a twenty-four-point deficit to humiliate the Tide on their home field, 28–27. On Finebaum's show, Bama partisans harped on the illegitimacy of Auburn's star quarterback, Cam Newton, who was nearly banned from the game after it was discovered his father had shopped him around as part of a pay-for-play scheme. For them, the Iron Bowl proved that Auburn could win only by cheating, that the "West Georgia" team was devoid of all honor, that—fuck it—look at our thirteen championships to your two. Roll Tide!
Updyke told Finebaum he'd seen Auburn fans outside the Iron Bowl dressing the statue of the late, great Paul "Bear" Bryant in a "Scam" Newton jersey. He claimed to have seen a newspaper clipping that showed how years back, Auburn fans celebrated Coach Bryant's death by "rolling" the live oaks at Toomer's Corner, the gateway to the Auburn campus where students mark wins by streaming the trees with toilet paper. So here's what Updyke said he did: He drove down to Toomer's Corner and doused the venerated trees with Spike 80DF, a lethal herbicide.
"Did they die?" an incredulous Finebaum asked.
"They definitely will die," said Updyke.
"Is that against the law—to poison a tree?"
"Do you think I care?" Updyke said. "I really don't. Roll damn Tide!" Arborists later confirmed that the trees had been poisoned. Police traced the call and charged Updyke with several felony counts. His disheveled, puffy-faced mug shot made the national news. Many Tide devotees were eager to write him off as a lunatic, a pathological fan. But the highway patrolman was not without his defenders. On Tide fan sites, some even called on the school to build a statue of Updyke next to the ones of Bryant and the other Bama heroes.
Last January, two weeks after the Auburn Tigers vanquished the Oregon Ducks for the national championship, Paul Finebaum, the host of a radio sports show in Birmingham, took a call from a listener who went by the name "Al." Al's real name, police would later learn, was Harvey Updyke. A 62-year-old retired Texas highway patrolman, Updyke had moved to Alabama only two years before to be close to his favorite football team, the Crimson Tide. His first year in his new home, he'd attained sports-fan nirvana. The Tide had won the 2009 national title, and Updyke had been in the stands to see it. His second year in Alabama was more like sports-fan hell. In November he'd pilgrimaged to Tuscaloosa for the Iron Bowl, the regular-season Auburn-Alabama showdown. In the second half, the Tigers overcame a twenty-four-point deficit to humiliate the Tide on their home field, 28–27. On Finebaum's show, Bama partisans harped on the illegitimacy of Auburn's star quarterback, Cam Newton, who was nearly banned from the game after it was discovered his father had shopped him around as part of a pay-for-play scheme. For them, the Iron Bowl proved that Auburn could win only by cheating, that the "West Georgia" team was devoid of all honor, that—fuck it—look at our thirteen championships to your two. Roll Tide!
Updyke told Finebaum he'd seen Auburn fans outside the Iron Bowl dressing the statue of the late, great Paul "Bear" Bryant in a "Scam" Newton jersey. He claimed to have seen a newspaper clipping that showed how years back, Auburn fans celebrated Coach Bryant's death by "rolling" the live oaks at Toomer's Corner, the gateway to the Auburn campus where students mark wins by streaming the trees with toilet paper. So here's what Updyke said he did: He drove down to Toomer's Corner and doused the venerated trees with Spike 80DF, a lethal herbicide.
"Did they die?" an incredulous Finebaum asked.
"They definitely will die," said Updyke.
"Is that against the law—to poison a tree?"
"Do you think I care?" Updyke said. "I really don't. Roll damn Tide!" Arborists later confirmed that the trees had been poisoned. Police traced the call and charged Updyke with several felony counts. His disheveled, puffy-faced mug shot made the national news. Many Tide devotees were eager to write him off as a lunatic, a pathological fan. But the highway patrolman was not without his defenders. On Tide fan sites, some even called on the school to build a statue of Updyke next to the ones of Bryant and the other Bama heroes.
