War Eagle: Auburn Football, the Iron Bowl, and the Creed of the Plains is the definitive cultural history of Auburn football, a story that begins with John Heisman’s restless genius and carries through to the electrifying eras of Bo Jackson and Cam Newton. More than a chronicle of games and scores, this book captures the theater of Auburn’s identity—rituals like the rolling of Toomer’s Corner, the Auburn Creed’s resonance, and the defiant roar of “War Eagle” that binds families across generations. For anyone searching for the most comprehensive and atmospheric history of Auburn football, this is a narrative that bridges the fragile and the indestructible. Auburn has always lived in the shadow of Alabama, yet its story is one of resilience and defiance rather than imitation. The Iron Bowl rivalry defines the state, but Auburn’s victories—whether Bo Jackson soaring “over the top” in 1982 or the miraculous Kick Six in 2013—are remembered as parables of loyalty and endurance. Cam Newton’s unforgettable 2010 championship season, like Jackson’s Heisman triumph before it, is told as part of the larger arc of Auburn, where loyalty is tested, rituals are renewed, and victories are proof that the Plains cannot be erased from Southern football. This book places the reader under the white streamers of Toomer’s Corner at midnight, among the crowds of Tiger Walk, and the roar of Jordan–Hare Stadium as the eagle soars. It follows Shug Jordan through the rise of Auburn, Pat Dye through the reclamation of power, Tommy Tuberville through the audacious “Fear the Thumb,” and Gus Malzahn through the hurry-up revolution. It considers the Deep South’s oldest rivalry with Georgia, the chaos-laden clashes with LSU, and the thunderous meetings with Florida. Each rivalry is not only about sport but about identity, a way Auburn declares its belonging in the SEC theater of memory. Bo Jackson emerges not only as a Heisman hero but as a symbol of Auburn’s strength, a player whose every stride carried the hopes of a community. Cam Newton is portrayed as a singular force of charisma and brilliance, his one-year dominance reshaping Auburn’s place on the national stage. Yet their greatness is framed within Auburn’s deeper truth: that no player, no season, no dynasty defines the program. Auburn is defined by endurance, by family, by a creed first written by George Petrie in 1943 that still echoes in the voices of fans today. War Eagle is more than a sports book. It is a meditation on memory, loyalty, and the power of ritual to bind communities in an age of transience. It asks why the sight of white oaks covered in paper could provoke grief when they were poisoned in 2010, and why their replanting became a symbol of defiant renewal. It examines why Auburn’s family endures even when championships are scarce, and how rituals turn scarcity into strength. With evocative prose, it portrays Auburn not merely as a football program but as the conscience of the state, the other power that refuses to be diminished. This is a story as much about belonging as about football. It is about fathers teaching children the words of the Creed, mothers passing down Punt Bama Punt and the Camback, grandparents returning with grandchildren to Jordan–Hare. In this story lies a larger truth about the South, about how identity is forged not only in triumph but in endurance, not only in dominance but in memory. War Eagle: Auburn Football, the Iron Bowl, and the Creed of the Plains invites readers to stand beneath the oaks at Toomer’s Corner, to feel the fragile paper that is indestructible in meaning, and to listen for the roar that declares, season after season, that Auburn endures. This is not only the story of Bo Jackson, Cam Newton, or the Kick Six. It is the story of a family that believes, remembers, and refuses to yield. To love Auburn is to participate in one of America’s most enduring rituals of sport, spirit, and belonging.