Other than this opening statement, this post has nothing to do with Tennessee football. As far as this piece is concerned, the football program doesn’t even exist.
This article is our peaceful trek through the trails at Ijams with the underbrush of sticks and leaves crunching beneath our feet as we make out way through the woods. It’s our stroll on the quiet beach, with a full moon shining down and the sound of the waves rushing in and then back out again. It’s us collectively taking our dogs to the dog park and watching them frolic through the weeds, nip other dog’s tails and sniff all the butts.