Forget the league’s rulebook — this one’s written by the Lucky Rebels.
The NCAA has rules. The NFL has rules. But rivalries? Rivalries operate on a different code entirely.
This isn’t about penalties or play clocks. This is about survival, pride and the unspoken laws that make rivalry season sacred. These are the rules passed down through generations of trash-talkers, heartbroken fans and people who’ve been asked to leave family gatherings.
Because rivalries aren’t games — they’re declarations. And every Rebel knows the only real sin is silence.
So, pull up a barstool, grab a drink and let’s talk about the rules that actually matter.
RULE #1: If you don’t talk trash to your in-laws on Thanksgiving, the game doesn’t count.
Thanksgiving is the Super Bowl of family tension. Turkey, mashed potatoes and unresolved grudges. If you’re sitting across from your brother-in-law who roots for them and you’re not chirping? You’ve already lost.
This is your moment. This is what you trained for. Jim Harbaugh didn’t wear khakis to play nice, and neither should you.
RULE #2: Never wear neutral colors, even to funerals.
Gray is for cowards. Beige is for people who “just want everyone to get along.” If you show up in neutral colors on rivalry week, you might as well wear a sign that says, “I have no convictions.”
Pick a side. Wear it loud. Even at family weddings. Especially at weddings..
RULE #3: If you lose, vanish for 24 hours. If you win, never shut up.
Losing requires dignity. Go dark. Delete Twitter. Turn off your phone. Let the winners have their moment. You’ll get yours next year.
But if you win? Channel your inner Deion Sanders. Talk. Gloat. Post receipts. Remind everyone who doubted you. Make it hurt.
Steve Spurrier spent his entire career perfecting this rule. Be like Steve.
RULE #4: The group chat goes silent after a loss.
There’s a sacred 24-hour mourning period after a rivalry loss. The group chat — once buzzing with confidence and memes — goes dead silent.
No “good game” texts. No “we’ll get ’em next year.” Just eerie, devastating quiet. The winners know better than to poke the bear too early. Let the losers grieve in peace.
Then, after 24 hours? Unleash hell.
RULE #5: Save receipts. Always.
Every bold prediction. Every smug pre-game tweet. Every “we’re definitely winning this year” text message. Screenshot it. Archive it. Store it in a folder labeled “EVIDENCE.”
Because when your rival talks trash in September and loses in November, you’re going to need proof. David Tyree’s helmet catch lives forever because Patriots fans can’t delete the tape.
Be the archivist of bad takes. Your time will come.
RULE #6: Never cheer for your rival, even if it helps your team.
“But if they win, we make the playoffs!”
No.
Playoff seeding doesn’t matter. Conference pride is a marketing scam. You never root for the enemy. Not even ironically. Not even “just this once.”
Woody Hayes refused to buy gas in Michigan. That’s the energy you need to bring to the table.
RULE #7: The loser buys the first round. No exceptions.
It’s not a suggestion. It’s the law. The loser walks into the bar, head down, wallet open and orders drinks for the winners.
You don’t get to sulk. You don’t get to “forget your card.” You lost. Pay up. Take it like a Rebel.
RULE #8: If you’re at the game, you stay until the end.
Leaving early is cowardice. Doesn’t matter if you’re down 40. Doesn’t matter if it’s snowing and your feet are numb. You stay. You suffer. You earn your misery.
Lions fans have watched 60+ years of heartbreak and still show up every Thanksgiving. That’s not fandom. That’s religion.
If you leave early, don’t bother coming back next year.
RULE #9: Trash talk expires after 365 days.
Last year’s win means nothing if you can’t back it up this year. The clock resets every rivalry game. You don’t get to coast on 2019 forever.
Michigan fans learned this the hard way after going 0-5 against Ohio State under Harbaugh. All the “This is our year” talk meant nothing until they finally won in 2021.
Championships are rented. Prove it again or shut up.
RULE #10: Rivalry season means Tarps off.
Hockey players know: when things get real, the gloves come off. In rivalry season, tarps off — shirts come off, inhibitions disappear and Bills Mafia starts body-slamming folding tables in 10-degree weather.
This isn’t the time for layers or second-guessing. Strip down to your team colors and embrace the chaos. If you’re not willing to catch frostbite for your squad, are you even a real fan?
You waited all year for this. You earned this. When the Kick Six happened, Auburn fans stormed the field like they’d won the Super Bowl. Alabama fans called it classless. Auburn fans called it Tuesday.
No apologies. No regrets. This is what we live for.
RULE #11: The winner controls the playlist.
Post-game music rights belong to the victors. Losers sit in silence or suffer through the fight song on repeat. For hours.
If you’re a Gator and FSU just beat you, you’re listening to the War Chant until your ears bleed. If you’re a Buckeye and Michigan won, “Hail to the Victors” is your new alarm clock.
Music is a weapon. Use it wisely.
RULE #12: If your team loses, delete all pre-game tweets.
Confidence is great. Receipts are eternal.
That tweet where you guaranteed a blowout? Gone. That Instagram story where you said “easiest win ever”? Scrubbed. Deny everything. Protect yourself.
Because the internet is forever, and your rivals screenshot everything.
RULE #13: No half-team gear.
You don’t get to wear both colors “just in case.” That’s not loyalty. That’s cowardice.
A house divided cannot stand. Abraham Lincoln said that. He was talking about the Civil War, but it applies to Ohio State-Michigan too.
Pick a side. Live with it. Die with it.
RULE #14: If you marry into a rival family, you signed up for this.
Love is beautiful. Rivalry marriages are chaos.
You knew what you were getting into. You knew Thanksgiving would be a warzone. You knew your kids would grow up confused. You knew your spouse’s family would never fully accept you.
But you did it anyway. Respect.
Just know that when your team wins, you’re sleeping on the couch. And when they lose? Also the couch.
RULE #15: Bad calls are only bad when they go against your team.
The refs were perfect when you won. The refs were blind when you lost.
Pass interference? Clean hit (if it helped your team). Holding? Didn’t see it (if it hurt your rival). Roughing the passer? That’s just football (unless it’s your quarterback).
There’s no such thing as objective officiating in rivalry games. Only winners and losers.
And the refs? They’re always on the wrong side. Always.
What Rules Would You Add?
These are the laws we live by. The code that separates Lucky Rebels from casuals. The unwritten rules that make rivalry season sacred.
But here’s the thing about rules, they evolve. They’re debated. They’re tested in bars, at tailgates, and in family group chats that haven’t recovered from last Thanksgiving.
So what are we missing? What rule lives in your rivalry DNA? What unspoken law has kept you loyal through decades of heartbreak?
Drop your rules. Defend them. Argue about them. Because that’s what Rebels do.
Rivalry never felt so good.
