When Auburn held Utah State to a field goal attempt with just over four minutes to play in the game I knew my Tigers still had a chance. If the Aggies made the kick, we’d only be down six, with plenty of time to win the game. But after Utah State took a delay of game penalty to give their kicker a better angle, they proceeded to fake the kick, picking up a first down on the Auburn one-yard-line. Two plays later the Aggies scored, and Auburn trailed by ten with less than four minutes to play. The game was over, people began to leave.

We stayed in our seats, in part because we live within walking distance of Jordan-Hare Stadium, so beating the traffic isn’t really an issue, but mostly because I’ve ridiculed the traffic-beaters to the point that I can now never leave a game early, even when I want to.

It had been a long time since Auburn had lost a game. 645 days to be precise. And though I wanted Auburn to win with all my heart, I was somewhat interested to see how I’d handle a loss.

As most of you know, in 2009 I wrote a book called God and Football: Faith and Fanaticism in the SEC. In the book I tried to find a healthier perspective on collegiate athletics, the kind of perspective that doesn’t leave me so depressed after a loss that I don’t want to go to church the next morning. And after writing the book, I honestly felt like I’d found that perspective, only problem was, Auburn had stopped losing football games. The Tigers won every game in 2010, and my newfound perspective entered the 2011 season more untested than Auburn’s defense.

But here we were, staring inevitable defeat right in the facemask, and you know what, I was okay. Sure, watching your team win is infinitely more fun that watching your team lose, but I wasn’t tearing my garments and cursing the heavens. We had people coming over that night to eat dinner and watch Georgia and LSU’s games, and I was genuinely looking forward to it, where as three years ago I would have been thinking of excuses to cancel the get-together. “Sorry guys but we’re going to have to call off dinner, Tricia and I have both come down with Ebola, and our house just caught on fire.”

This was great news, but since I’m slightly neurotic, I was now concerned over where this newfound perspective came from. Did I really get a new outlook from writing God and Football, or did the fact that Auburn won the National Championship finally give me peace. Or maybe I was only accepting this loss graciously because my expectations for this year’s team are so low.

I was actually vocalizing these thoughts to Tricia when Barrett Trotter hit Philip Lutzenkirchen for a fifteen-yard touchdown pass to cut the Utah State lead to three. Then the Tigers got an onside kick, and then Michael Dyer was diving into the end zone, and somehow, someway, Auburn had won again.

I jumped around like a crazy person, hugging strangers and high-fiving everyone in sight, then walked home to get ready for our little gathering, knowing one day I really will have to put my new perspective to the test, but not this day.