Lane, your years in Oxford have shaped a narrative nobody asked for — but Ole Miss wrote anyway.
When you first stepped off that jet in Oxford, you weren’t “Lane 2.0.” You were just a man looking for cell service, a gas station, a blonde, and a reason why everybody kept calling a grove of trees “historic.”
Most programs wouldn’t have rolled the dice on you. Ole Miss did — mostly because they roll dice on everything, including defensive play-calling and pastel outfit decisions.
Oxford gave you space to breathe. Mostly because there’s nothing else to do. They gave you trust you hadn’t earned yet, plus a parade every time you won by three against Vandy.
Your priorities shifted. Your life quieted down. And for the first time in years, you found something rare in your world:
A place where a 9-3 season is treated like the Second Coming.
Somewhere in all of that, Ole Miss reshaped you. Not the SEC. Not the money. Just the town that thinks “culture” is putting bow ties on toddlers and wearing pants the color of tropical birds.
Oxford rebuilt you — mostly because you can’t leave town without passing seven construction detours and a guy selling Hotty Toddy decals out of a folding chair.
And now you’ve said it yourself:
You need Oxford more than Oxford needs you. Which is wild, because Oxford needs everybody.Especially plumbers. And defensive linemen. And 20 something girlfriends.
Because the version of you the nation celebrates — calmer, grounded, more self-aware — didn’t exist before Ole Miss.
He was forged in a place where brunch is a sport, where the stadium noise peaks at “politely enthusiastic,” and where the bar closes only when someone’s cousin proposes in the corner.
Yes, other programs with bigger wallets will come calling. They have Wi-Fi, too.
And airports. Real ones.
But here’s the truth:
They can match the money. They can surpass the facilities. They can even upgrade the mascot from “black bear no one asked for” to literally anything else.
But they can never replace one thing Ole Miss uniquely provides:
A fanbase that will swear you invented football because you beat LSU one time.
So remember:
Oxford didn’t just give you a job. Oxford gave you… well, a place. A nice place.
A confusing cringe southern place. A place where Easter shorts never died and every building looks like it’s majoring in Southern Studies and MRS degrees.
You rebuilt Ole Miss football — absolutely.
But let’s be honest:
You also rebuilt the only program in America still bragging about a mythical magazine national championship from the Eisenhower administration.
Hotty Toddy.
Go Rebs.
Bless our hearts and our land sharts.
With man love and eternal devotion,
Braxton Ford McThurston III
