It was loud. Honestly, "loud" doesn't even do it justice. If you were anywhere near Jordan-Hare Stadium on November 30, 2013, the air felt heavy, like it was vibrating under the weight of 87,451 people screaming their lungs out. You've seen the replay a thousand times. Chris Davis catches a missed field goal, tip-toes the sideline, and runs 109 yards into immortality. But Auburn v Alabama 2013 wasn't just about one play. It was a collision of two worlds that shouldn't have been on the same planet, let alone the same field.
Alabama arrived as the undisputed king. Nick Saban had the Tide rolling toward a three-peat, something basically unheard of in the modern era. They were 11-0, ranked No. 1, and looked like a pro team playing against college kids. Then you had Auburn. A year prior, they were a disaster. They finished 2012 without a single SEC win. Nobody expected Gus Malzahn to turn them into a 10-1 juggernaut in ten months, yet there they were, standing in the way of a dynasty.
The Drama Before the Dash
Everyone remembers the ending, but the fourth quarter was a chaotic mess of high-stakes mistakes. Alabama's T.J. Yeldon was a monster, racking up yards, yet the Tide kept leaving points on the board. Cade Foster, Bama’s kicker, had a nightmare afternoon. He missed three field goals. Think about that. In a game decided by one play, those nine points are a massive "what if" that still haunts Tuscaloosa.
Auburn’s offense was weird. It was this frantic, no-huddle system that relied on Nick Marshall—a converted cornerback—to make split-second reads. He wasn't the best passer, but he was a winner. When he hit Sammie Coates for a 39-yard touchdown with just 32 seconds left, the stadium literally shook. It tied the game at 28. Most people thought we were headed to overtime. Even the broadcasters were checking their notes for OT rules.
Then came the clock controversy.
With one second remaining, Saban argued for a review. T.J. Yeldon had stepped out of bounds after a long run. The officials put one second back on the clock. One single second. Saban decided to try a 57-yard field goal instead of playing for overtime. He didn't use Foster this time; he sent out Adam Griffith, a freshman with a big leg.
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109 Yards of Pure Impossible
Gus Malzahn did something smart. He noticed Alabama’s field goal unit was full of heavy offensive linemen—guys who are great at blocking but terrible at sprinting. He put Chris Davis back in the end zone. It was a "just in case" move. If the kick was short, Davis could return it.
The kick was short.
Davis caught the ball at the back of the "N" in the end zone. He started running. Most people thought he’d just run out of bounds or get tackled at the 20-yard line to end regulation. But he found a lane. He cut to the left sideline. Rod Bramblett, the legendary Auburn announcer, started losing his mind on the radio. "Chris Davis! No flags! Touchdown Auburn!"
The field disappeared. Thousands of fans swarmed the grass before Davis even reached the locker room. It was a sea of orange and blue. If you look at the photos, you can barely see the grass. It was the moment the Iron Bowl stopped being a game and became a religious experience.
Why the Analytics Still Don't Make Sense
If you look at the win probability charts for Auburn v Alabama 2013, Alabama had a 99% chance of winning for a huge chunk of the fourth quarter. The "Kick Six" is technically a 100-plus yard return, but because of how college football records work, it's officially listed as 109 yards. It's the maximum possible distance.
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The fallout was massive:
- Alabama was knocked out of the BCS National Championship picture.
- Auburn moved on to the SEC Championship, where they beat Missouri.
- The game effectively ended the BCS era on the most chaotic note possible.
- It cemented the Iron Bowl as the premier rivalry in American sports.
The Human Cost of a Missed Kick
We talk about Chris Davis as a hero, but we rarely talk about the kids on the other side. Cade Foster received death threats. It was a dark moment for the fanbase. Nick Saban, usually a stoic statue, looked physically ill in the post-game press conference. He had lobbied for that final second. He got it. And that second ruined his season.
There's a nuance here most people miss. Alabama outgained Auburn 495 yards to 393. On paper, Alabama won that game. They dominated the stat sheet. But football isn't played on paper. It's played in the gaps between the stats, where luck and momentum live. Auburn was a "Team of Destiny" that year. They had already beaten Georgia on a miracle tipped pass (The Prayer at Jordan-Hare) just two weeks earlier. Lightning isn't supposed to strike twice, but in 2013, Auburn was a lightning rod.
What You Should Do Next
If you want to truly appreciate the magnitude of this game, don't just watch the YouTube highlights. Go find the "War Eagle Productions" version of the game film that shows the sideline angles. Look at the Alabama players—they don't even move. They are frozen.
To dig deeper into the legacy of Auburn v Alabama 2013, take these steps:
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1. Watch the '30 for 30' documentary. ESPN’s "The Resurrection" covers Auburn’s 2013 season. It provides the context of the 0-8 SEC season that preceded this miracle, which makes the win feel even more impossible.
2. Listen to the local radio calls. Don't settle for the TV broadcast. Find the Rod Bramblett (Auburn) and Eli Gold (Alabama) calls. Hearing the sheer joy in one and the stunned silence in the other tells the story better than any writer ever could.
3. Analyze the roster. Look at how many players from that specific game went on to the NFL. It wasn't just a lucky game; it was a field full of elite professional talent including C.J. Mosley, Amari Cooper, and Dee Ford.
4. Visit Jordan-Hare. If you're ever in East Alabama, the stadium has displays dedicated to this moment. Seeing the actual distance Davis ran—the full 109 yards—puts the physical feat into perspective. It’s a long way to run when 11 giants are trying to tackle you.
This game changed how coaches think about "long" field goals. You rarely see teams attempt 55+ yarders at the end of halves anymore without a safety valve back deep. It changed the math of the game. It reminded us that in the Iron Bowl, a single second is more than enough time for everything to change.