Respect the Grove, by damn
Friends, RedEye readers and Tiger Nation, lend me your ears; I come not to bury Ole Miss—that's for Saturday—but to praise the Grove.
Pray hear me out: Understand that the good people of Oxford will be mixing a cocktail of anger, betrayal and "Et tu, Kiffin?" but such unpleasantries need not spoil our good walk under the oaks.
Still, Ole Miss serving former Rebel and current LSU sack leader Princewill Umanmielen with legal papers over a "salary" dispute is a pretty Brutus move. Stay classy and thirsty, my friends.
Why it matters: Kiffin hate is an Ole Miss thing. Few things in life make an SEC showdown between two top-10 teams better than a tailgating experience in the Grove.
Get the party started: The Grove wasn't always this genteel—or fabulous.
Through the 1980s, it was trucks, campers and cars parked wherever they'd fit, pretty much like your typical Saturday in Starkville. That was until a 1991 downpour turned 10 William Faulkner-walked acres into a swamp. The boggy mess prompted Ole Miss officials—just as they did with Dixie a decade or so later—to banish the vehicles. It was goodbye to mud flap Red Neck and hello to the pop-the-collar good life.
In short, the Grove that we all know and love, regardless of allegiance, was born. And by God this may get me killed for saying so, what with all the tension and "controlled chaos," but there's no finer tailgate spectacle in all the land than what happens under the oaks, elms, magnolias and candelabras. The New York Times once called it "the mother and mistress of outdoor ritual mayhem." Sports Illustrated has flat-out ranked it the best tailgate in the country—LSU, for the record, was a close second.
Seriously, the Walk of Champions is nice if you're a Rebel fan or that little kid from "The Blind Side," but the real walk that matters is meandering from tent to tent and soaking up the joy that is a football Saturday in the SEC.
On any other given Saturday, Grove tailgaters are the most hospitable in the SEC—which means the nation. Don't get me wrong, LSU fans—when sober—are mighty friendly folks, but ya' gotta know there's a "Tiger Bait!" price to be paid for that free beer and jambalaya. At Ole Miss, it's fine china, crystal and speakers blasting Stan Torgerson radio recordings of Archie Manning's greatest hits.
If food is your thing, there's no better place than Saturday Night in Death Valley, but for culture it's "Grove Couture" all the way.
Compared to the rich, heavy, highly seasoned cooking found at an LSU tailgate, the food at the Grove is intentionally much more "vanilla"—leaning heavily into classic Southern finger foods, cold hors d'oeuvres and catered convenience. The key reason for this is that open flames and grills—charcoal or propane—are banned.
Once you get past the hors d'oeuvres and white linens, it's largely a fried chicken or chicken-tender situation, usually from Abner's back in the glory days, if you knew what you were doing.
But, hey, I'm no traitor. This guy rolls with Raising Cane's.
It's a surprise to exactly no one that the chicken finger battle lines mirror the tailgate lines. LSU tailgating is Raising Cane's—a powerhouse of raw culinary engineering, heavy seasoning and a loud, undisputed formula designed for maximum impact. It's an "Animal House" toga party. The Grove, meanwhile, was pure Abner's—an institution of tradition and local character that allowed room for finer things of Southern charm and elegance, like a country club soirée. The operative word there being "was"—the original Oxford Abner's closed for good in 2023.
First Abner's, then Lane Kiffin. No wonder those people are so angry.
The Bottom Line: Let's not be naive; there will be plenty of venom and choirs of Hotty Toddys and Geaux to Hell, Ole Miss, Geaux to Hell echoing through the Oxford Oaks on Saturday, but let's all show appropriate respect for the glorious Grove, one of college football's greatest traditions. It deserves it, by damn.