The golf cart’s gas pedal was pushed as far as it can go, and I was driving like a mad man in the pitch black. 11 cousins were piled in to the 5-person golf cart and jumped out the second we came to a stop to run into the bar. We were all in South Carolina for a Thanksgiving family reunion, and dinner was scheduled at 7:00. It was 7:30. The Iron Bowl took precedence over dinner, of course.

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We football fans figured that all the other members of our 65-person family were already at dinner. After much debate over whether to join the others or stay and watch, the guilt ate us. We decided to go to the building where dinner was and finish the game from the downstairs bar with everyone else. Dinner could wait, but we’d show up for our family—sort of.

Using a fourth quarter commercial break as our opening, we raced to the bar’s TV. We ran inside just as Auburn’s extra point sailed through the uprights to make it a tie game.

It turns out we weren’t the only ones ditching the meal for the game. More and more family members started joining us in the small, dark bar, leaving the comfort of the dining room because they we all the game would go into overtime.

But you know by now that that didn’t happen.

A few plays and a challenge later, Adam Griffith trotted on the field to try a 57-yard kick while CBS flashed a graphic saying that he was 1-2 in his short career.

All of our family went around placing bets on whether the kick would go in. The overwhelming majority said the game was going to overtime.

What came next didn’t even cross anyone’s mind.

The ball was kicked, and from the camera angle, it looked good. The whole room erupted in sound:

“Oh man! He made it!”

“What a kick!”

“Another Bama championship…”

Then the ball started falling. And falling. And Auburn’s Chris Davis received it from the very back of the end zone.

The room was completely silent.

But Davis kept going and with every newly earned yard, the room started to get a little louder.

Then Davis got a huge block, met with “oooohhs”, and he was home free.

That’s about the time pandemonium broke out.

I started sprinting in a little circle screaming, “HOLY S*#%! HOLY S*#%!” over and over.

Dad couldn’t stop muttering, “Oh my goodness.”

My uncle who took bets let us know that he called the miss: “I told you so. I told y’all!”

Another one had to fight to not spit out a mouthful of his beer.

All the younger cousins dog piled on top of each other underneath the bar.

My phone buzzed with a text from my older cousin who stayed back at the room.

“Best game ever?” it read.

“Yes.”

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