You don’t have to like it, but you’d have to be a head-in-the-sand ostrich to deny that the SEC is the clear cut heavyweight division in college football. Seven straight national titles will do that. We all know why: Population booms in the south, an influx of influential coaches, a league where the best athletes aren’t afraid to play defense, fast and loose recruiting rule books, and of course, because of the top-to-bottom drama. Every school has an interesting story that intersects with its larger scale rivals and this chains the conference together in one bible belt cluster of humanity. When Wisconsin plays in the Rose Bowl every damn year, Michigan fans aren’t in bars chanting “Big 10! Big 10! Big 10!”
They’re too busy getting stomped by a second tier SEC school in the Capital One Bowl.
To explain the Bono-esque, we-are-all-one feelings that the SEC has about its collective solidarity, let’s draw parallels. It’s been a popular explanatory topic this preseason but we’ve missed the best one: SEC schools as bands. Some are pop legends, some are annoying newcomers, some are washed out icons that peaked in the ’90s, and some love to twerk.