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Food For Thought, presented by The Iron Horse Grill: Time for a Flood?

The Iron Horse Grill
The Iron Horse Grill

I planned a week off in January, which now feels like years ago.

The plan was to take a week off and then head to Atlanta next Sunday for Southeastern Conference Media Days, where I intended to cover Lane Kiffin's first such event as Ole Miss' head coach.

I figured I'd get tons of podcast interviews, write a lot about Kiffin and Mike Leach and other SEC topics and then head back to Oxford, ready to get the 2020 season underway.,

Of course, 2020 had other ideas. Instead, since mid-March, I've been writing about a pandemic that has taken basketball and baseball and now seriously threatens the football season. The SEC has canceled the event in Atlanta and while it has told media the annual gathering will be held virtually, no date has been set.

In this space over the past four months, I've written so much about what the fall may look like that I sometimes feel like a broken record. Today, on the cusp of the Fourth of July as the New York Times takes on Mount Rushmore, I find myself needing a mental break.

Will sports return? I don't know. Will the football season happen? I don't know. Will kids go back to college and schools next month? I think so, but I'm constantly amazed at the number of people who are simply overcome by fear.

I can only hope the return of the NBA, MLB, NHL and MLS is successful and perhaps leads to more optimism among those who control college sports.

Maybe in a couple of weeks, we'll have more information and I can write about it again. For now, I'm too fatigued to take it on. My brain needs a break.

So, since the message board isn't contentious enough just yet, I thought I'd make Chase Parham's week a little more difficult.

I get asked a question a lot lately. I've resisted answering it, as I don't think it's my business and also because my opinion doesn't matter. The conversation goes something like this:

Question: What do you think will happen to "Rebels" and "Ole Miss?"

Me: I don't know.

Question: Seriously?

Me: Look, that's for Ole Miss people, and I don't think it's my place.

Question: OK, fair enough. But what would you do?

So, today, for the sheer hell of it and against my better judgment, I'll give my answer.

First, a couple of caveats:

1. No one at Ole Miss has ever asked my opinion.

2. No one at Ole Miss will ever ask my opinion.

Now, with that out of the way, here goes:

Given today's political and social climate, I'd fully anticipate an attack on the term "Rebels." It's been hinted at on the Internet by at least one Ole Miss player and, from speaking to former players, it's a monicker that not everyone is comfortable with. No one is upset about being the Tigers, Bulldogs, Gators, Razorbacks or Crimson Tide, but "Rebels" has connotations that are difficult to avoid or defend.

Mississippi drew a lot of praise in recent weeks for taking down the state flag that featured the Confederate battle emblem. Of course, it was criticized for taking so long and for action not really happening -- I know that's BS, but that's besides the point -- until football players, the SEC and the NCAA stepped in and applied pressure.

This summer, amid the COVID-19 pandemic, college athletes have returned to campuses to train for seasons that will -- if they happen -- look and feel different. They've never had bigger voices, and as the fight for racial equality and against police brutality has become a mainstream conversation, they've used their voices for good.

Ole Miss, due to its history, has always been an easy target. Just last month, USA Today's Dan Wolken called for the school to drop Rebels as its nickname. It's no secret Wolken and I don't vote for one another in a popularity contest, but he made some points in that piece, even if the timing felt more like piling on than anything else.

If I were Ole Miss, I'd move on from "Rebels," and I'd do it before I was publicly pushed in that direction by alumni or former/current players, the media or a corporate partner. I'd do it because it's the easy thing to do, there's a ready-made replacement that I could market better anyway and because it would give me an opportunity to make another very strong statement.

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Now don't get me wrong. It's PR 101 to control the message, so if I'm Ole Miss and "Rebels" is off-limits, I say as much. Now. I draw my proverbial line in the sand and double down, even. I just think, as the Washington Redskins are learning these days, that's a futile endeavor. Life is one cost-benefit analysis. What's the cost of hanging on to "Rebels" for dear life? What's the benefit?

See? If you know it's coming and you know it's likely a losing battle, why waste the capital?

I would make the change proactively. Before 1936, Ole Miss was the Flood. It's a cool nickname. It's fitting. This state and the river that carries the same name are inextricably intertwined. I'd embrace it -- again. It would let me even further embrace the powder/Italy blue that is so popular with fans, as rivers on a map are typically that color. It would let me actually embrace the university's history all while distancing myself from another part of the same. In my opinion, it just makes sense. And in my opinion, it's never made more sense.

As for a mascot, oh, I don't know. It doesn't really matter, though I'm a big believer in mascots and their abilities to tie heartstrings to young people.

Alabama mascot Big Al leads the team onto the field before the start of an NCAA college football game against Mississippi State, Saturday, Nov. 10, 2018, in Tuscaloosa, Ala.
Alabama mascot Big Al leads the team onto the field before the start of an NCAA college football game against Mississippi State, Saturday, Nov. 10, 2018, in Tuscaloosa, Ala. (Butch Dill/Associated Press)

Who doesn't love Big Al? Or Aubie? Or Cocky? Or Smokey? Hell, several schools have a conglomerate of mascots. Arkansas, for example, has Big Red, Sue E. and Pork Chop. The Razorbacks are terrible, but if you don't think little kids sit in the stadium in Fayetteville and watch those characters on the field, you don't know children. They take a stuffed animal home from the five-touchdown loss to Auburn, hold it close and tie heartstrings to a place. Some of those strings get frayed over the years; some don't. That 6-year-old is 18 in a blink of an eye, a reality my wife and I observe daily.

In this Sept. 5, 2015, photo, Arkansas spirt squads and mascots, from left, Sue E, Pork Chop and Big Red arrive at the field on the top of a truck before the start of the NCAA college football game against UTEP at Donald W. Reynolds Razorback Stadium in Fayetteville, Ark. The Razorbacks beat the Miners, 48-13.
In this Sept. 5, 2015, photo, Arkansas spirt squads and mascots, from left, Sue E, Pork Chop and Big Red arrive at the field on the top of a truck before the start of the NCAA college football game against UTEP at Donald W. Reynolds Razorback Stadium in Fayetteville, Ark. The Razorbacks beat the Miners, 48-13. (Samantha Baker/Associated Press)

If I were Ole Miss, I'd embrace the Flood. I'd embrace the Mississippi River. And I'd call up the mascot design company that created Big Al, Aubie, Big Red, Albert and Alberta Gator, Cocky, Hairy Dawg and others and I'd ask them to create the most cartoonish, fluffy catfish possible. Call him Fried or Muddy or River or whatever. Put some stuffed animals in the book store, dress him (and her) in red and blue and create a revenue stream and some heartstrings.

Colonel Reb is gone and he's clearly never coming back. Rebel the Bear was a good idea, but the school's leaders refused to embrace him. He's history now, too. Tony the Landshark -- oh, hell, I'll say it -- is perhaps the worst mascot in the history of mascots. If you to want to stay with a shark, fine. Be the Sharks and get a fluffy shark. With all apologies to the late Tony Fein and his family, the whole Tony the Landshark concept was flawed from the get-go. Years later, it remains a laughingstock.

If it were me, I'd blame that experiment on people long gone and move on.

But whatever.

Earlier, I referenced a strong statement. In the midst of doing all of this, I'd plant my flag on the hill I was willing to die on. I'd state, unequivocally, that "Ole Miss" is never going away. I'd let alumnus Frank E. Everett, Jr.'s words speak for the masses.

"There is a valid distinction between The University and Ole Miss even though the separate threads are closely interwoven," wrote Everett, who earned degrees from UM in 1934 and 1936. "The University is buildings, trees and people. Ole Miss is mood, emotion and personality. One is physical, and the other is spiritual. One is tangible, and the other intangible. The University is respected, but Ole Miss is loved. The University gives a diploma and regretfully terminates tenure, but one never graduates from Ole Miss."

Sure, you'll get a fight. Some are never satisfied. However, in the midst of a concession, taking a stand is noteworthy.

So now you know. I've had this conversation with several Ole Miss people in the past. Some have told me I'm insane. Some have said my idea is brilliant. For the record, it doesn't matter to me. I'll never engage in the debate, for I firmly believe it's one for Ole Miss people to hash out.

It bears repeating: No one at Ole Miss will ever seek my advice, nor should they.

But I've been on this beat 12-plus years, have a lot of ties (many severed) to the school and have covered the SEC for the better part of 25 years. So I get asked a lot and I always deflect. Today seemed like a good time to take a break from COVID-19 and potential budgetary apocalypse and give my utterly worthless opinion.

I'll be away from the site for the next eight or nine days. So, if you have comments or hate mail or words of derision, please address them to one Anthony Chase Parham at chase.parham@gmail.com. He can forward them to me, where I can hit delete all.

Have a wonderful and safe Fourth of July.

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