The Juice Effect

Back in the fall of 2019, before all the craziness that was 2020, I found myself gathered with friends in my favorite town of Oxford, Mississippi. A group of special people who filled the formative years of my college life had arrived for an Ole Miss football game, and being like any true Rebel fans, we used it as an opportunity (or excuse) to celebrate with one another. The cocktail hour was filled with reminiscence and laughter of the “good ole days” that just so happened to be during the exciting football years of 2000-2004.

During my tenure as an Ole Miss co- ed, many of my buddies were on the football team. It wasn’t a huge deal to us girls, though. They were just our friends who had to be in on Friday nights before games, up early for practices, and were slightly larger than our other guy friends. Of course, we had a blast cheering for them in our extremely well thought out game day attire, but it was different and much simpler…at least it seemed so. Think about it- this was a pre- social media period. There were no Facebook posts, no Instagram stories, no Tweets, no TikTok dancing, nothing. Sounds like heaven, right? It was just our life, and there was a lot less hype but still had plenty of football mixed in.

My point in this is that my life has always been somewhat organically intertwined with Ole Miss football, from childhood to college, and on into adulthood. Whether it was as a little girl playing in the Grove when there was still room for cars to park there, watching the coach’s show with my dad on Sundays after church, having my picture made with the majorettes during one of my many awkward phases with buck teeth and purple glasses, or dragging an overserved linebacker out of the bar on his birthday before he got in too much trouble (again, thank God for no social media), it’s always been in the background of my life. That being said, there is nowhere else I feel more comfortable and more myself than watching an Ole Miss football game in Oxford, Mississippi. It is also why I tend to find myself in multiple conversations at any given time with people of all walks of life regarding the subject.

Back to the gathering on the fall night in 2019, I found myself in conversation with a handful of ex-players from multiple generations and a few bigwig donors regarding who would be a next logical coach for our football team, as we were under the leadership of an interim at that time. A few names and opinions were thrown around the appetizer buffet as I listened and added my unsolicited two cents about a couple of young up-and-coming coaches who were making a name for themselves in different conferences. The group took in what I had to say, however thought provoking or not, and we organically moved on to the next subject.

Eventually, the season ended, we found a new coach in Lane Kiffin, and a lovely pandemic hit. I became engulfed in the heaviness of life- juggling two kids in masks while holding hands of dying patients in the hospital. My swan song in nursing started as one of emotional and physical survival, then ended in complete and utter burn out. The 2020 football season blew by, and for the first time in my life, I barely noticed it. I believe I blocked out an entire year (as I’m sure most did). 2021 finally came around, and I regrouped with a renewed spirit and completely different vocation. As the crisp, fall air once again arrived, so did my ability to enjoy one of my favorite things in Oxford, Mississippi.

And there I was- back in Oxford with the same group I had celebrated with prior to the pandemic, this time even more grateful to be together after such a horrendous year. At some point, I found myself yet again in a conversation regarding football. As I sipped my glass of wine, a well-respected and heavily involved alumnus put the spotlight on me and asked, “Susannah, what do you think about our new coach?”

Now, who knows if he was just trying to be cordial and simply include me in the conversation, or if in fact, he did want to know my opinion. Afterall, I had witnessed firsthand the conservative Cutcliffe years and was privy to his wife’s delicious homemade cookies from time to time. I also had witnessed many a crass Cajun Orgeron comment in my day and the less than thrilling Houston Nutt years. Nevertheless, I thought about my answer as I sipped from my glass and honestly replied, “Well, I don’t really think about him. I mean, I’ve just been trying to get through my life on the daily, but I guess we’ll see. I guess I’ll start paying attention more. I hope he does a good job, though.”

Apparently, that response sufficed the group, and we went on to enjoy a weekend filled with a home game win, lots of delicious, Southern cooking, and a true party in the Sip. And then, I finally started paying attention. I honed in on my natural ability to observe. Where I didn’t have much of an opinion (for once in my life), I started to form one, and I will have to say that I began to genuinely like what our coach was bringing to the table. There are a few simple reasons why. Let’s review:

- I really like his outfit choices and mid-game wardrobe changes. This Southern girl can appreciate proper color coordination on a man and an instinctively good use of powder blue.

- I love the reenergized, fresh vibe and excitement he (and our AD) has brought to the program.

- I love that he will actually go for it on fourth and whatever or will fake a punt on his own 16 with full preparation to take the blame if it doesn’t work.

- As a mother, I appreciate that when my super sports fan, nine-year-old son drags me to my first ever Rebel radio show in town, he answers the eager child’s question with the same respect as the adults.

- I like that he appears to have good taste in music.

- And last, but not least…I absolutely love Juice.

Now, you must be hiding under a rock to not know that Kiffin has added a beautiful yellow lab to his family and inadvertently, the Ole Miss community. With all the ups and downs of the Ole Miss mascots, the presence of a happy, hassling, Labrador retriever on the sidelines of Vaught-Hemingway Stadium has never been more needed or welcomed. And Mr. Juice Kiffin, the now famous Ole Miss dog and “goodest boy in the Sip” effortlessly fills that void of proper mascot representation and school spirit. Let’s face it, he’s basically a therapy dog for an entire fanbase.

A few weeks back, I was driving from Nashville to Oxford for my children’s fall break. The plans were to bring my overly excited son to the Ole Miss vs. Auburn game with me and leave his younger sister with her grandparents while we participated in the gameday festivities. We drove down on Wednesday night as they were out of school Thursday and Friday. My parents, who thankfully retired in Oxford, would help me out with the kids while I worked during the day. The kids watched movies on their Ipads as I caught up with friends during my four-hour drive. I called the usual suspects including my childhood neighbor, Ken, who happens to live in Oxford, used to work for the athletic department, and founded the ever popular 90’s country cover band, Mustache, to discuss the upcoming weekend. As we jibbed and jabbed over the phone, I asked him, “Ken, have you met Juice?”

“The dog? No, I haven’t met him yet.”

“Oh my gosh. I just want to meet Juice. I mean of course, I hope we win this weekend, but really, I just want to meet Juice. Priorities.”

Ken laughed through the line. Since he had known me for over thirty-five years, there was no question from him regarding my love for dogs. Anyone who knows me, knows how much I truly love them- especially Labrador Retrievers like my own.

“Well, maybe you’ll get lucky,” he replied.

“Maybe.”

We ended our conversation, and our fun filled fall break in Oxford officially began a few hours later. I worked from home during the day, then was dragged around by my super sports fan child to all the activities we could possibly fit in. I could barely keep up with him as he forced me to attend a basketball jamboree and a radio show, made me pass the football on any break I took, and made sure my stock was high in sharpies for the occasional autograph of any person who even resembled an athlete. I was exhausted.

As I crawled into bed on Thursday night, I realized how much my hip was hurting after chasing my nine-year-old around and making the four hour drive. Fun fact- ever since I hit the big 4-0, the only thing that will help my aching joints, overall mental health, and torn hip labrum is a regular class of hot yoga. I popped a Tylenol to help with the pain, then frantically searched online for the closest yoga studio to fit into our busy Friday schedule.

“Damnit.” I said out loud as I realized the only class that I could attend between my work schedule and planned activities was a bright and early six-fifteen class. “Ugh!” I rolled over as I winced from the sharp hip pain. Anyone that knows me and knows how much I love dogs also knows how much I hate waking up early in the morning if I don’t have to (which is rare as a mother). I made a mental deal with myself, and decided if my body naturally woke up, then I would head to that class at six-fifteen in the morning. “Probably not going to happen,” I thought as I drifted off to sleep.

At some point in the night, my five-year-old daughter snuck into my room and nuzzled into my neck to snuggle. Around five-thirty in the morning, I awoke to the sounds of her snoring directly into my left ear. I rubbed my eyes, felt another twinge of hip pain, and looked at my phone to check the time. “Well,” I thought, “I guess I am going to go to that yoga class.”

I reluctantly pulled myself out of bed but knew my body would thank me later. I fumbled for my contacts and threw on my yoga clothes, then headed out the door to find the studio I booked online. “Perfect- it’s right across from James Food Center. I know exactly where that it is,” I thought to myself. Anyone who knows anything about Oxford knows the landmark of James Food Center- the gas station/ post office with the most delicious chicken salad in the state (bet you’ve never read a sentence like that). I watched the sunrise peak through the clouds as I passed the landmark and found a parking spot, still wiping my eyes in disbelief that I was going through with the early morning class.

I hobbled into the yoga studio with my bum hip and was met by welcoming faces who were absolutely morning people. They were so much happier and chipper than I had ever been at six in the morning, but I appreciated the warm welcome, nonetheless. The instructor introduced herself and led me into the steamy room, where I found a place for my mat and started to stretch out my tired bones amongst the wrinkle free co-eds to my right and left. Eventually the class started, and I began to get in the flow as they say. And thankfully, I almost immediately started feeling some type of relief in my aching hip.

About ten minutes into the class, I found myself upside down in the downward dog position (which is not unusual in a yoga class) and heard some rustling that caused a slight break in the flow of the room. I opened my eyes slightly to realize that our fearless leader, Coach Kiffin, had entered the practice and positioned himself in the corner spot behind me.

“Oh good,” I thought. “He’s getting his mind right for the game.” Back to my flow.

The thought made me feel confident going into the upcoming SEC match. I closed my eyes to inhale and exhale the worries of the week and got back into my groove. I thoroughly enjoyed every minute of the class- even the ones where I fell out of whatever position I was twisted in. My hip finally felt normal so that I could participate in the rest of the weekend’s activities with my child- mission accomplished. As the group relaxed in our final shavasana, I felt overwhelming gratitude for being able to attend the class in my favorite town on Earth- a town that no matter what, feels like home. I opened my eyes and began to gather my mat and towel, clearer and more ready than ever to tackle the day.

In the lobby I juggled my keys, phone, mat, water, towel, and shoes. I found a seat near the front door of the studio to get myself situated when I heard an all too familiar sound. I instantly made eye contact with one of the wrinkle free co-eds and asked, “Is there a dog in here?”

Her face lit up, and she nodded her head. She walked me over to the door of the men’s bathroom and gently opened it, careful not to bump whatever was on the other side. I peered in, and suddenly, the lovable face of a young Labrador retriever greeted me with a smile and a wet nose. His happy tail wagged as I bent down and nuzzled my head into the goodest boy in the Sip’s face. I finally and very unexpectedly got to meet Juice. My day (or maybe month) was made.

I returned home to two sleepy eyed kiddos with crazy bedhead who had been asking their grandparents where their mom was over bottomless bowls of sugary cereal. I looked at my nine-year-old super sports fan son and said, “Ruffin, you will never guess who I saw at yoga.”

He sat straight up, and his eyes opened to normal size, “Jaxson Dart.”

“No- not the quarterback…even better.”

“I don’t know, mom. Who’s better than that?” he asked as he slurped down a spoonful of cereal.

“Juice.”

A giant smile filled his face as his sleepy mind processed what I had just said. Confused, he innocently asked me, “Mom, why in the world was there a dog at your yoga?”

“I don’t know, but I’m sure glad he was. He made my day.”

And that is the story about how my hopes of meeting the goodest boy in the Sip came true, how a dog solidified my positive opinions and observations of a college football coach, and how one special pup can bring a little unexpected joy to people’s days. Now, my super sports fan son is hoping he will eventually get to do the same. And who knows, maybe he will. We should all be so lucky…and here’s to hoping Juice stays in the Sip for as long as possilbe.

Above is a picture of the letter my super sports fan nine- year-old son sent off a few weeks ago. No clue if it will ever reach it’s intended recipient, but glad to know I’ve got something to fall back on if my day job doesn’t work out. I also didn’t think this through letting him put my number on it. He is now keenly aware of when I hit the silence button on an unknown number, and it doesn’t go over so well.

The goodest boy in the Sip T shirts are a must have!

Want to learn about Wildrose Kennels in Mississippi? They put out some of the most beautiful, sweetest pups around. Check out this adorable children’s book about Wildrose.

Need a new yoga mat, or have a bum hip that may be helped with yoga? This powder blue option is great!