The Verandah Lot by Rod McCants

[wp_ulike]

by Rod McCants

Perhaps you think that the best tailgate and game day traditions involve a wildly unorganized Grove of Tents, or perhaps a river full of boats in Eastern Tennessee, or maybe even spent atop a train caboose in the concrete jungle of the South. But for those of you who have experienced Wofford College’s Verandah Lot, you understand what good game day traditions look like.

Now, don’t mistake me for a hoity-toity, Greenville raised Verandah Lot pass-holder. No, I sneak in with the smear of an expo marker like the best of ’em. But once I’m in, I understand the beauty and tradition that is Wofford’s Verandah Lot. To my knowledge, there is no other tailgating experience comparable to this. The rows of chairs perched in lines on Spartanburg’s most coveted real estate give a front row seat to the SoCon’s greatest tradition and finest team. Sitting next to fellow Wofford grads suchas South Carolina Supreme Court justices, Jerry Richardson, or the Dean of the College (shout out to Roberta Bigger), one gathers a sense of community that cannot be felt while throwing rolls of Charmin on trees at Toomer’s Corner, or while yelling like wild swine in the Ozarks.

Image from Wofford Athletics

And behind this front row view of a sacred site are tailgates that would give anything at a state school a run for its money. Chandeliers, fully stocked bars, and flower arrangements make Ole Miss tailgates look like something from Clemson, and the drinks being concocted on the beds of pick-up trucks or by the Upstate’s finest make Yella Hammers taste like water.

Here’s the deal – Wofford College is a small school. But early on, Terriers learn that it’s not about the size of the dog in the fight, it’s about the size of the fight in the dog. We may lose games, we may be small, and we may not be big, but when the game is over, we celebrate who we are and what we are. It doesn’t matter who you are or where you’re from when you’re tailgating at Wofford. Whether you sit in the President’s Box or you have to bum beer from your friend’s parent’s cooler, it doesn’t matter at Wofford. All that matters is if you’re a T-Dog.

Rod McCants is from Andrews, South Carolina. Never heard of it? Good, we will pull your butt over for a speeding ticket the next time you’re driving to the beach.