Saturday is coming up. And then, after that, another Saturday. And then another, on and on, beating against us like the ceaseless tide.
Speaking of the Tide, that is the football team we pull for in the great Sunni-Shiite football wars of this state. [Sidebar: I have used that analogy multiple times to characterize the depths of the religious passion felt by college football fans in this state. It is useful to convey strong passion and the sense of the either/or binary. However, it has also resulted in several people asking me whether Bama represents the Sunni or the Shiite in the analogy, leading to some pained expressions of ignorance regarding Islamic theology, not to mention the political situations in any number of foreign countries.]
So, we pull for Bama and we happened to be in New Orleans. Perhaps you will find yourself in a similar boat, hoping to spend some part of some Big Easy Saturday in some sort of place with a television, in whose hypnotic light you hope to bask while pulling for your beloved Crimson-clad unpaid workers.
May we suggest that you find your way to 1100 Constance Street, to a bar called The Rusty Nail?
I only learned of the place when wearing my Bama shirt around town on Saturday morning. I was responding to various “Roll Tides” and such in my usual genial way, hoping not to be too much the tourist as I took the St. Charles trolley line for the first time. A woman on a bicycle not only gave me a RTR, but stopped to ask if I was going to watch the game at the Rusty Nail.
“Oh, dear,” she said with all of the empathy of a concerned mother, “you simply must go.”
It was as if she were ashamed of my ignorance. So I went. It was within walking distance of the place that I was standing when I received her suggestion.
They have bleachers in the bar. They have an amazing patio. They were grilling food on said patios, including veggie burgers. The bartenders were wearing Bama shirts. They had a half dozen TVs, all showing college football until the 2 p.m. game (versus Arkansas), at which time all TVs were flipped to the Bama game. The bar owner (named David, I think), is a Bama grad who not only stands there watching the game with the massive crowd of fans that assemble, he (and this is important) actually mutes the commercials during the breaks in the action.
It’s all well and good that this bar is where the New Orleans chapter of Bama alums likes to gather. That’s nice and it’s wonderful to watch the game with like-minded fans, wearing crimson and shaking shakers. It’s as close to a game day environment in a non-Tuscaloosa bar that I have ever experienced. But the fact that the owner mutes the commercials and plays the Alabama fight song, along with topical music, well, that’s just over the top. James Brown was in heavy rotation, and the commercial break after a Razorback TD brought us Cee Lo’s “Fuck You.”
The bar was nearly full, but not so crowded as to be uncomfortable. In case you’re wondering, yes, people really do pack out the bleachers. I didn’t take any photos (other than the one above of the empty bleachers) because I was busy getting drunk and watching the game. Folks were lively, but not out-of-hand, fueled by a steamroller of a Bama win and healthy pours from the bartenders. Did I mention that they have an immense collection of rare scotches?
Truly, this is the best bar for watching Alabama football in the nation. This owner, these bartenders, they know what’s up. I cannot highly enough recommend