CLEMSON — Twelve days.

Twelve days until No. 24 Alabama and No. 9 Clemson face off in their much-anticipated season opener inside Atlanta’s Georgia Dome.

Twelve days until the college football season gets rolling.

Twelve days until we find out if Clemson can live up to the hype.

And twelve days until my life finds a semblance of normalcy. I think.

When Tommy Bowden and Nick Saban agreed to Aug. 30’s clash of pigskin titans, it turned me into the fulcrum of my football-loving family and friends.

See, before I occupied this space — and covered Clemson football — I spent almost five years covering Alabama football for the now-defunct Birmingham Post-Herald.

And all of my family and friends — those I know in Birmingham and here in Anderson — know it.

My South Carolina friends want the scoop on Clemson. My Alabama friends want my opinion on whether Saban can turn the Crimson Tide into a national power.

I’m in the middle.

As a proud University of Iowa graduate, I’m a totally neutral observer.

My wife, on the other hand — that’s a different story.

Mitzi graduated from Jacksonville State, but she and her friends have held Alabama season tickets for going-on seven seasons. During football season, her Ford Expedition is a rolling tailgate machine — huge cooler, football-shaped charcoal grill, big collapsible canopy tent, the whole ten yards.

Saturday morning, that car made me a bit crimson-faced, if you will.

I was running late for the Tigers’ scrimmage and my Ford Escape was low on gas.

So I grabbed the keys to the Expedition — with its “YEABAMA” South Carolina personalized license plate, Alabama hitch cover and Alabama decal prominently displayed in the rear window.

I arrived, did my interviews, went to the car and rolled to the parking lot exit, ready to head home.

All of a sudden, Cullen Harper pulls up to my right. He motions backward and then, to roll down my window.

What have I done?

Then it hits me. The license plate.

Oh, God.

“Is this your car?” Cullen yells.

“No, it’s my wife’s — she’s an Alabama fan from Birmingham — season ticket holder and all,” I say, dread growing. “Mine was low on gas today.”

“OK,” Cullen laughs. “I thought we had a ’Bama scout up in here or something.”

I. Am. Never. Driving. That. Car. In. Clemson. Again.

Even if the Escape has four flat tires and a blown-out engine.

Even if Ford Escapes are shot on sight once they cross into Pickens County.

Never. Again.

That random encounter with Clemson’s star quarterback made me realize how anxious I am for the season opener.

Like most of you, I’m excited about watching what should be a great game that will go down to the fourth quarter.

But I’m also excited that, come Sunday morning, I can blend back into the woodwork for a while again. No more questions from my in-laws. No more queries while I’m sitting on the corner barstool at my favorite watering hole. A normal life.

I can’t wait.