Watching a Tennessee Titans Game in Memphis, Where Everyone Hates Nashville

Sitting front row for the Indifference Bowl

I’m curious about sports teams that name themselves after regions and not cities. I’m even more curious about scorned markets and their jagged loyalty to teams in neighboring cities. Add in a surprising run to the conference championship, sprinkle some petty confetti on top, and I’m the most curious.

So I drove to Memphis. Sitting at the Bayou Bar & Grill, I’m learning just how neutral, at best, this city feels about the Tennessee Titans being one win away from one of the most improbable Super Bowl appearances in recent memory.

Nashville, about 3 hours and 200 miles east of Memphis is where the Titans play. But the Titans played here in Memphis for a year, as the Oilers, after the team bolted Houston in 1997. People hated them because (long, bitter story short) the tickets were obnoxiously expensive and the location was temporary because Nashville was still building their weird stadium with the lego firetruck legs craning out the top like a drunk ladybug spaceship.

Nashville’s new team, the story goes, didn’t do a lick of community outreach in Memphis. So despite having “Tennessee” on their logo Memphis said “nah”, despite their previous efforts to score an NFL franchise and having the opportunity to audition as a big league city.

People also hated their new transitory team because Memphis people are “proud”, something most people I chatted with for this story went out of their way to say, completely unaware that that’s exactly what most people would say about their town.

Yes, congratulations on being proud. Congratulations to Cleveland for being proud, Detroit for being prideful, and to St. Louis for being a city known for its pride. Everyone thinks the primary characteristic of their town’s citizens is pride. And everyone’s weather is unique and everyone’s traffic is the absolute worst traffic in the country.

One of the first guys who told me about how proud Memphis is also added, “nobody here cares about the Titans but we’re happy if they win.” His buddy interrupted him and said that “no, nobody cares if they win.” They are both named David and they’ve known each other for 45 years. One of them left in the second quarter.

It’s hard to tell but the game started. The true mark of a fair weather fan base is the lack of excitement for the key points of a game. Example: the ball is kicked off because the game you’ve lost fingernails to is finally here and you cheer. You just do, but nobody here does. Nobody makes any noise for anything except for the two big first down passing plays. No “ughs” or “ahhs” when the team doesn’t convert a pass in the end zone, no polite we’ll-take-the-points-clap after the field goal. Perhaps the organic code of the neutral fan is that hype is reserved for only the biggest of moments. Memphis is not hanging on every play for Tennessee’s team. There’s only one Titans jersey in the whole bar.

Later after a crucial 4th down conversion the bartender yelled “Titan Up” which is a not great team catchphrase. Nobody joined him but to be fair, it’s unclear to me if “Titan Up” is a call and response or just something this bartender made up. The Titans scored and a decent amount of people clapped, roughly 10% of the noise I would hear after a regular season touchdown scored in any New Orleans Saints bar in any part of the country.

Then the bartender played a song called Titan Up. It’s got a bad chorus (Titan Up) and senior citizens dancing. It’s worth watching if you want it to be worth watching. I’m relieved the bartender didn’t make up “Titan Up.”

At halftime I switched locations to Beale Street, expecting the neon-clad strip to be somewhat lit for the AFC Championship. Bouncers at the few open bars all directed me to the Hooters around the corner if I wanted to watch the game. They somehow pulled off being kind people while also subtly scolding me for seeking out a Titans game. Maybe every Memphis Titans fan really was at the Bayou Bar & Grill. Maybe Memphis really is neutral as hell about this team.

It was around this time, midway through the third quarter that I started to fall for Memphis a little more. My cursor hovered over my previous “pride” paragraph, where I roasted every major city to a measly crisp. I resist deleting it (pride) to say this: good on you, Memphis.

It was hard to wrap my head around why you weren’t supporting a team with Tennessee in the name, because you seem more Tennessee than Nashville. It was difficult to get on board with how two cities can be so similar yet dislike each other but then I thought about it for one more second and realized that oh yeah. That’s precisely why you don’t get along. Nashville thinks Memphis is North Mississippi and Memphis thinks Nashville wants to be New York. They are siblings with the same parents, born a decade apart going to different parties.

This entire beef with the Titans seemed petty at first but you’re not wrong to be anti-Nashville. You don’t have an NFL team but it’s okay that some of you pretended to have one the past couple of weeks. You’ve earned the right to climb aboard the wagon whenever you choose. You’ve earned the right to forgive the Titans or to forget they technically play in Nashville whenever you want.

The Titans lost the game. I don’t know what the rest of Tennessee was like but Memphis was fine with it. They also would have been fine with them winning. I don’t know what would have happened if the Titans made it to the Super Bowl but I’m sure that would have been fine as well. Memphis doesn’t hate the Titans anymore, they’ve grown to feel indifferent.