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<H1 ALIGN=CENTER><IMG ALT="Final Horn"ALIGN =CENTER WIDTH=296 HEIGHT=118 BORDER=0 SRC="../pic/finlhorn.gif"> </H1>
<H2 ALIGN=CENTER> by Kent Partridge </H2>

<P><FONT SIZE=6>D</FONT>id you know that a 10-gallon hat barely holds six pints, or that a giraffe can go without water longer than a camel can? Neither did I until just the other day.

<P>It just goes to show you that things aren't always as they seem, or last least as we perceive them to be.

<P>There we were with an open date following a loss. Two long weeks to continually hear how "bad the offense is," or that "the coaches don't care," or "the players aren't trying," or my personal favorite, "the way we are playing is just unacceptable."

<P>So in my mind I rehearsed my defenses as I drove to work to face those two weeks. After all, I was here in Auburn when the sun came up Sunday morning.

<P>Then it came to me. . the Sunday morning sun theory. That's how I would deflect 10 gallons of sure criticism into a six-pint hat, how I could make a camel hold more water than a giraffe.

<P>Contrary to popular belief, I told myself, the sun did come up on the morning of Sept. 20. Granted, It was hidden for most of the day behind gray clouds and it's rays cooled by a cleansing rain, but it still came up.

<P>Monday came and went and it wasn't so bad, but I couldn't let it go. I was like the young gunslinger who just rode into Dodge looking for a fight.

<P>Tuesday was coming and along with it a business luncheon in Birmingham. Surely someone there would push just the right button and I would be forced to indignantly pontificate my theory on the Sunday morning sun.

<P>As I drove Highway 280 I expanded the Sunday morning sun theory even more. By golly, I get paid to try to make this program look good and I was going to do that even if I had to embarrass it, and myself, in the process.

<P>Just maybe, I theorized, the Sunday morning sun couldn't rise for those whose lives are so sadly empty, that their self worth is determined by who wins or loses on a given Saturday. There could be no Sunday morning sun for those whose love for their favorite team is measured in direct proportion to scoreboard totals.

<P>I was ready. Full of self righteousness and ready to fire in defense with both barrels if need be, I had already forgotten that things aren't always as they seem, or at least, as we perceive them to be.

<P>I even refused to listen to the radio once I reached Birmingham talk show range, I'd show 'em. Just because the sun didn't rise for them Sunday morning didn't mean I had to hear about it on a lovely Tuesday.

<P>Besides, I was driving alone and had no one with which to share my theory. I figured there would be ample opportunity at the luncheon.

<P>So I ambled into the Vestavia Country Club expecting to hear all about how the sun didn't come up Sunday morning. I was geared for not even a glimmer of dawn, but was presented a ray of Sunday morning sunshine named Kym Prewitt.
As she made her opening remarks to the group, Kym reminded everyone of an old Auburn saying when times seem tough.

<P> "I can't start a meeting of Auburn people without opening with a good War Eagle," she said, "or as some might say after Saturday, War Eagle anyway."
"Well, I say War Eagle no matter what!"

<P>Bless you Kym Prewitt, and thanks. Thanks for not allowing me a chance to offer any of my misdirected l0-gallon theories. Thanks for reminding me to never sell true Auburn people short.

<P>Most of all, thanks for a little ray of Sunday morning sunshine.

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	<TITLE>Kent Partridge</TITLE>

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	<H1 ALIGN=CENTER><IMG ALT="Final Horn"ALIGN =CENTER WIDTH=296 HEIGHT=118 BORDER=0 SRC="../pic/finlhorn.gif"> </H1>
	<H2 ALIGN=CENTER> by Kent Partridge </H2>

	<P><FONT SIZE=6>D</FONT>id you know that a 10-gallon hat barely holds six pints, or that a giraffe can go without water longer than a camel can? Neither did I until just the other day.

	<P>It just goes to show you that things aren't always as they seem, or last least as we perceive them to be.

	<P>There we were with an open date following a loss. Two long weeks to continually hear how "bad the offense is," or that "the coaches don't care," or "the players aren't trying," or my personal favorite, "the way we are playing is just unacceptable."

	<P>So in my mind I rehearsed my defenses as I drove to work to face those two weeks. After all, I was here in Auburn when the sun came up Sunday morning.

	<P>Then it came to me. . the Sunday morning sun theory. That's how I would deflect 10 gallons of sure criticism into a six-pint hat, how I could make a camel hold more water than a giraffe.

	<P>Contrary to popular belief, I told myself, the sun did come up on the morning of Sept. 20. Granted, It was hidden for most of the day behind gray clouds and it's rays cooled by a cleansing rain, but it still came up.

	<P>Monday came and went and it wasn't so bad, but I couldn't let it go. I was like the young gunslinger who just rode into Dodge looking for a fight.

	<P>Tuesday was coming and along with it a business luncheon in Birmingham. Surely someone there would push just the right button and I would be forced to indignantly pontificate my theory on the Sunday morning sun.

	<P>As I drove Highway 280 I expanded the Sunday morning sun theory even more. By golly, I get paid to try to make this program look good and I was going to do that even if I had to embarrass it, and myself, in the process.

	<P>Just maybe, I theorized, the Sunday morning sun couldn't rise for those whose lives are so sadly empty, that their self worth is determined by who wins or loses on a given Saturday. There could be no Sunday morning sun for those whose love for their favorite team is measured in direct proportion to scoreboard totals.

	<P>I was ready. Full of self righteousness and ready to fire in defense with both barrels if need be, I had already forgotten that things aren't always as they seem, or at least, as we perceive them to be.

	<P>I even refused to listen to the radio once I reached Birmingham talk show range, I'd show 'em. Just because the sun didn't rise for them Sunday morning didn't mean I had to hear about it on a lovely Tuesday.

	<P>Besides, I was driving alone and had no one with which to share my theory. I figured there would be ample opportunity at the luncheon.

	<P>So I ambled into the Vestavia Country Club expecting to hear all about how the sun didn't come up Sunday morning. I was geared for not even a glimmer of dawn, but was presented a ray of Sunday morning sunshine named Kym Prewitt.
	As she made her opening remarks to the group, Kym reminded everyone of an old Auburn saying when times seem tough.

	<P> "I can't start a meeting of Auburn people without opening with a good War Eagle," she said, "or as some might say after Saturday, War Eagle anyway."
	"Well, I say War Eagle no matter what!"

	<P>Bless you Kym Prewitt, and thanks. Thanks for not allowing me a chance to offer any of my misdirected l0-gallon theories. Thanks for reminding me to never sell true Auburn people short.

	<P>Most of all, thanks for a little ray of Sunday morning sunshine.

	<P ALIGN=CENTER><A HREF="./" TARGET="_top">TABLE OF CONTENTS</A> \| <A HREF="../" TARGET="_top">PROGRAM INDEX</A> \| <A HREF="../../index.html" TARGET="_top">HOME</A></P>

	<P ALIGN=CENTER><I>© 1999 Auburn Network, Inc.</I></P>


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