Even with a pleasant mountain breeze swirling through the foothills of the Smokies, Zack Roskop had to close his doors and windows once 3:30 struck. The game of the millennium was in town.
Sixth-ranked Tennessee welcomed No. 3 Alabama to Knoxville; the third Saturday in October finally had postseason ramifications for the first time in nearly two decades.
Thirty-three years a Knoxvillian and owner of Knox Brew Hub in the city’s downtown, Roskop knows exactly how loud Neyland Stadium gets on any given Saturday, much less this one. He and his diehard patrons couldn’t have the outcome spoiled by the seismic crowd noise and celebratory fireworks otherwise audible from the hallowed ground, located less than a mile away.
Roskop’s preventative measures did just enough to prevent Neyland’s triumphant roar and a final smattering of fireworks from permeating his bar. Thirty seconds later, as CBS showed Chase McGrath’s game-winning field goal flutter through the uprights, the Knox Brew Hub erupted into unashamed tears and indiscriminate hugs.
In a brief, clairvoyant moment, Roskop turned to his bartenders with a message of caution— “Buckle up; in about 45 minutes it’s gonna just be mass chaos”—before ringing the last call bell to declare that the next round was on the house.
Sure enough, tens of thousands emerged from the Neyland Greenway shrouded in a billowing cloud of cigar smoke. A sea of orange and white flooded Knoxville’s dense downtown—its tributaries fueled by Roskop’s bar and just about every other establishment around—and united in chants of “It’s great to be a Volunteer.”
Neyland Stadium lies at the heart of Knoxville both figuratively—the town of about 190,000 grinds to a halt on game days—and geographically. Nestled within the southeastern corner of the campus and overlooking the mighty Tennessee River, the greenway and red-brick architecture creates short, pleasant walks to the bustling downtown (18 minutes) or the Cumberland Strip (12 minutes).
On game days, this proximity creates a fluid sea of all things Tennessee football—Roskop doesn’t give directions to first-timers at Rocky Top, advising them simply to find parking near downtown and “follow the stream.”
“It’s definitely electric, truly an encompassing environment,” says James Tourville, owner of the Literboard and SouthSide Garage bars in Knoxville. “I would say it’s hard to replicate it anywhere else in the nation, with how many people get into the stadium and find their way into the surrounding area, and walkability is a large part of that.”
The urbanism of Neyland Stadium is largely unrivaled in U.S. sports—a nation of once-concrete, now chic venues encircled by moats of asphalt—finding much of its stiffest competition right at home in the Southeastern Conference and around the college football landscape.
“College football promotes urbanism and promotes pedestrian social behavior in ways that almost no other activities do,” says Tim Chapin, dean of the College of Social Sciences and Public Policy at Florida State. “That’s true both on a university campus and I’d say in society generally.”
