Estimated reading time: 3 minutes.

Faizon Brandon had been thrown a lifeline. Two letters long.

CO.

On Tennessee’s game-day depth chart for Arkansas, it was Faizon Brandon OR George MacIntyre. To most people, that meant the coaches hadn’t settled the matter. To the Faizon faithful, it was a stay of execution or a do-over like Christa Gail Pike.

Nobody needed those two letters more than volsfan4life.

He’d spent over forty years waiting for another audience. He’d sung lead tenor in the Chattanooga Boys Choir and recovered a fumble against Red Bank for East Ridge High. His daddy ran the Quarterback Club. People listened then and they would be listening to him again.

He married his high-school sweetheart, went to night school for TV repair, and spent four decades telling customers their televisions weren’t worth fixing. Nobody applauded.

Faizon was his return engagement to the spotlight. On the message board, he craved the insider e-cred of LWSVol and Old Coach. He’d spotted Faizon early, lectured strangers about throwing mechanics, and hinted at people he knew in Knoxville. The next great Tennessee quarterback would carry him into message-board royalty. He could hear the e-applause. The endorphins were pulsing.

In August, the faithful treated the quarterback competition as an insult to Faizon, his family, Erik Ainge, and anybody questioning the coronation. Faizon could run like a point guard, improvise like Patrick Mahomes, and find throwing lanes invisible to mortal quarterbacks. G-Mac was a temporary inconvenience, perhaps Vanderbilt’s problem. Never mind that the Commodores already had five-star Jared Curtis.

JoelIrrelevant e-fought BaseballVol13 over whether there had even been a competition, invoking Ainge as a source.

“I owned your bish azz. Sit down, child.”

BaseballVol13 called him a spoiled brat. MaryvilleVol wondered how far Joel’s devotion to Ainge extended into Ainge’s digestive tract.

Then Faizon struggled against Auburn, still dealing with his shoulder injury from Texas. G-Mac replaced him. Suddenly the Faizon crowd discovered patience. He’s 18. He’s learning. Look at the protection.

“I think we handled Faizon going to the bench with a lot of grace,” volsfan4life posted.

His e-enemies had screenshots of the preceding six weeks.

Now the depth chart said OR. Faizon wasn’t finished. Neither was volsfan4life‘s reputation. But what if G-Mac got the snaps and won? He wanted Tennessee to beat Arkansas. Of course he did. A couple of G-Mac interceptions and a defensive rescue would be even better. Three would settle the argument.

Jesus Christ. Was he hoping his own quarterback would fail just to win an e-fight?

He’d made similar bargains at Weigel’s. Darlene, twenty-two, skinny, butterfly tattoo on her forearm, called every customer ‘honey’. He ordered a second coffee anyway. When her fingers brushed his at the counter, he nearly dropped his cup of coffee.

He wanted to tag Darlene—who wouldn’t?—and yet he remained faithful to the East Ridge sweetheart he’d married.

Stay clean and snap clear.

His phone buzzed. Old Coach had called Arkansas’s secondary “not athletic at all.” Terrible news for a man quietly hoping G-Mac would throw picks.

Back on the board, volsfan4life insisted that Faizon deserved patience. Three years, if necessary. PinhotiVol, reading along in Rock Spring, Georgia, replied.

“You dumbasses couldn’t wait ten minutes for a fucking biscuit at Weigel’s. Now you’re giving quarterbacks three years?”

Nobody answered. They were studying the two letters again.

CO.

Faizon had a lifeline. volsfan4life had already mistaken it for vindication.

Related reading

• Faizon Won the Job. Tennessee Fans Sent G-Mac to Vanderbilt Before Breakfast
• G-Mac Gets the Start. Everybody Told You So.
• Brent, You Need to Be Paying Old Coach

Drawn from real public discussions on Tennessee football message boards.