HOOVER, Ala. — This week Saturday Down South invited yours truly to Birmingham for an in-depth assignment few professional journalists have ever tackled: interviewing hoards of rabid Alabama and other SEC fans on camera.

Now, I’m no stranger to the Yellow Hammer state, as my entire family on my Dad’s side hails from the Dixie metropolis known as Anniston, and being a diehard Alabama fan is one of my many, many flaws. So I’m quite accustomed to the people and traditions of Alabama and their love for cutoff shirts, Salt Life stickers, and pronouncing “creek” with an I instead of two E’s. The 2-hour trek to Birmingham didn’t faze me at all.

Day 1

I hopped in my car and left Atlanta, and just like a prospector in the 1800s, I headed West looking for (media) gold.

I arrived in Birmingham (or “The Magic City,” as they call it) on Tuesday evening. Unfortunately, my late arrival meant that I missed Butch Jones underwhelming the crowd with his “Brick By Brick” strategy of celebrating mediocrity and announcing his program’s goal of continuously lowering their standards worse than those Fast & Furious movies. I also missed Derek Mason setting the tone for suit game swag, as well as Jim McElwain winning an Oscar for biggest overreaction of the week when he teared up speaking about how his fake infidelity with a Great White shark hurt him, The University of Florida, and his family so deeply during the offseason.

If only he cared about his offense as much as he cared about his saltwater side piece accusations … but I digress.

Day 2

Missouri (AKA Vanderbilt’s less cooler brother) fans showed up in droves to support their team Wednesday morning. Tiger fans from St. Charles to Savannah swarmed Hoover to poke their collective chest out in response to the constant dismissive attitude and scrutiny from the rest of the conference that they somehow don’t belong in the SEC.

I’m kidding. The chances of that happening are even smaller than the Tigers reaching .500 this year in conference play. Back to reality ….

After stealing several apples from the Hyatt Place hotel lobby and loading up my bags with free toiletries from my room, I put on my game face and headed to SEC Media Days at The Galleria. There was a certain buzz that morning, as dozens of non-alumni Alabama affiliates made their annual pilgrimage to Hoover to hopefully catch a glimpse of their sideline saint — Nick Saban.

As I walked into the lobby the smell of success hit me harder than a blindside tackle from Reuben Foster. Over the past decade Bama has been the SEC’s Belle of the Ball, and their fans came out in full force dressed to the (almost) nines with multiple chins held high boasting their dominance.

Dozens of crimson clad Bammers were corralled together in the middle of the lobby allowing my producer Will Ogburn and I to pick and choose the best potential interviews like some auction for lost souls. Think Babe or Charlotte’s Web, but where the prized pig had a false sense of entitlement because … championships.

Being the serious journalist that I am, I prepared a series of questions for potential interviewees. And not the shallow softball question BS being teed up for coaches and players to be answered in regurgitated and echoed cliche coach-speak like the “professionals” were doing upstairs at SECMD.

The real nitty gritty stuff like: What year did you graduate from Alabama? Who is the coach at Missouri? And what’s the first word that comes to mind when you think of the Kick Six?

The answers were more priceless than the Wal-Mart wardrobes and Tide-themed Trans Ams they showed up in.

First we met a man from Bessemer, who is arguably the most famous of all the fans at SEC Media Days with his Flava Flav level Bama Boujee-ness and swag that came complete with: a national championship ring foam hat, 24 karat Crimson bling around his neck, and a Script A Championship belt.

Naturally I interviewed him on a carousel, where we mounted an elephant and a bear, ironically and respectively. He was one of my favorite people and interviews of the entire trip. He embodied everything I love, but most others hate, about Bama fans.

For instance, like most of Bama fans he falls into the 85 percent of people that didn’t go to school there (just like me!), but he would still probably give a limb if it meant the Tide winning a national title.

He was unapologetically Bama, and those crimson and white colors he bled might as well be paralyzed because they DO. NOT. RUN.

Next, we interviewed a man dressed head to toe like Bear Bryant. The comedian in me tried to loosen him up by asking lighthearted questions like: Which of his fake national titles that Bama claims was his favorite? (My vote is the 1973 team, by the way). However, just like The Bear, this man didn’t budge in the face of adversity or humor, and instead met me with several quotes from Bryant himself. I realized I had a better chance of him yelling “War Eagle” than I did of him breaking character.

As the morning went on, the interviews grew more and more entertaining. There were a pair of brothers from Andalusia who referred to Bryant as God and called Gus Malzahn “the power bottom” of the SEC West. Then there was the 16-year-old from Opp whose hatred for Auburn was so deep that he admitted to crying during the Kick Six, yet said despite his hatred for “that cow college down the road” he still would’ve voted for Gus Malzahn over Hillary. Roll America Roll y’all.

Then there was another gentleman who, to nobody’s surprise, was also dressed as Bear Bryant. I declined the opportunity to interview him out of fear that it would cause the universe to literally implode on itself.

As we finished the interviews, I walked inside to get one last glimpse of this group of misunderstood people. Out of the 12 people interviewed: 1 graduated from Tuscaloosa, 3 said they cried during the Kick Six, and all 12 said the first word that came to mind when they heard Nick Saban was “Champion.” Damn straight, son. My people.

Day 3

Initially I was worried about where the final day at Media Days would take me, as I was assigned to interview Auburn fans for “fun.” As a lifelong Bama fan, the only thing more difficult for me than making fun of my fellow Bama brethren is pretending to like Auburn or their fans.

I walked down radio row and noticed the buzz in the air from the previous day had disappeared faster than Hugh Freeze’s reputation and Gene Chizik’s head coaching career. Regardless, I forged ahead on my mission to interrogate Tiger fans with not-so-subtle passive aggressive jabs.

However, what I was met with was one of the most grossly foreign and disturbing things these crimson colored eyes have ever seen: sportsmanship.

Granted there was the one Ole Miss fan who slapped me after I told her the Rebs would go 4-8 and followed up by asking who would hit harder: SEC defenses or the NCAA? But, outside of that Mississippi Queen I was met with nothing but good-hearted, docile, and logical fans from The Plains. It was like a dystopian discipleship of people who, dare I say it, actually cared about things in life other than their favorite football team. What the heck is that?!

My head felt dizzy, and my stomach was in knots. I almost threw up on a young man’s Cam Newton jersey.

Was everyone else right this entire time? Were Bama fans the most rabid, unstable and ridiculous fans like everyone always says? Were they the least likable fans in the SEC outside of any blackout bro in Baton Rouge on a Saturday night in Death Valley?

That’s when I saw my saving grace. A beacon of hope. An oasis of a man dressed in orange, blue … and absolutely no shame.

This retired gentleman from Opelika was carrying his miniature schnauzer service dog, whom he painted into a miniature tiger. Don’t get me wrong: he was very friendly. And, the dog was adorable. But his mere presence provided a sense of calm and peace that came over me when I realized I had finally found someone who was not only disliked, but disliked by a group even less likable than Bama fans: PETA.

With that I made my way toward the exit in one of the two Belks that bookend the blueprints of this mall, which is just quintessential and peak ‘Bama.

I returned to my hotel to collect my thoughts on the few days I spent in “The Magic City.” I was taken aback by the passion and love these people had for their respective teams. Maybe they weren’t so crazy. Maybe they were just misunderstood and passionate about something they really care about. As I sat down for dinner at the beautiful brand new Logan’s Roadhouse, where peanut shells cluttered the hardwood floor like trophies clutter the shelves in Bama’s Mal Moore football complex, I thought to myself: Maybe this state wasn’t so backwards, backwoods, or behind the times …

And, that’s when I saw a bowl of guacamole that was labeled “Avocado Salsa.”

I immediately got back in my car and headed home to Atlanta. Thanks for the memories Media Days.