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By Ed Fields | For the Birmingham Times
I would not be the person I am today without the Magic City Classic. That probably sounds like an exaggeration, but it is not. I honestly cannot think of a single relationship in my life — fleeting or significant — that has not intersected directly or within one degree of this game. Not a single one.
In fact, the only reason I ever set foot in Birmingham, Alabama, was for the Magic City Classic. Prior to that, all I knew of Birmingham was featured in grainy, black-and-white videos of attacking police dogs gnawing at unarmed Black teenagers.
The Arrival
In October 1997, I was sitting on the second row of an unmarked white passenger van with a group of student leaders, headed to Birmingham for my first Magic City Classic weekend. I served as a Golden Ambassador for Alabama State University, attending official events — rally, parade, game — in support of the ASU President’s Office, Miss ASU, and the Student Government Association.
As we cruised from Montgomery to Birmingham on Interstate 65, I was caught off guard by the lush, rolling hills. The road elevation rose and fell like meditated breath. I held mine as I stared out the window at a zigzag of deciduous trees bursting with every beautiful color I had ever seen or imagined.
The kaleidoscope of burnt orange, happy yellow, and brown-skinned foliage made these Appalachian foothills feel soft and sacred, even as the highway descended into Jones Valley, the cradle of Alabama’s largest metropolis.
Indeed, Birmingham was a cosmopolitan city crowned by an autumnal wonderland, like a halo. It was a far cry from anything I had seen in those black-and-white films. I was spellbound.
I knew right away that this city, this football game, and that my entire Birmingham experience was going to be special.
‘The Classic’
Early in my career, I produced the annual scholarship breakfast for university students preceding kickoff. One year, our keynote speaker, Cedric Sparks—then Mayor Bernard Kincaid’s director of youth services, now Chief of Staff to Mayor Randall Woodfin—electrified the room by declaring that the Magic City Classic needed neither modifiers nor definitions. We simply say “The Classic.”
You already know what it is.
He was right. The Classic is a civic singularity: family reunion, football game, concert, and revival, all in one. By divine design, it syncs with Daylight Saving Time, gifting Birmingham an extra hour to party, fellowship, or sleep off the celebration.
Officially, the Magic City Classic is a continuous 85-year football tradition between Alabama State University and Alabama A&M University, though the rivalry dates back 102 years.
In 2025, the Classic generated more than $25 million in economic impact for the greater Birmingham area, contributing to Jefferson County’s $2.6 billion tourism economy. Tourism leaders reported 69,372 people attended the game inside Legion Field, with another 40,000 tailgating, vending, and observing outside.
But the relationship between the City of Birmingham and the universities goes deeper than the game. Every year, thousands of Birmingham City Schools students apply to attend both institutions. Through the Birmingham Promise, more than 2,000 local scholars have attended ASU, Alabama A&M, and other public universities in Alabama on tuition-free scholarships. Thousands of ASU and Alabama A&M alumni teach in our public classrooms and power our regional workforce.
The Classic is a group hug, a mutual embrace, between two historic universities, city government, high schools, and as many as four generations of university alumni across the nation.
In other words, many colleges play classics, but those games simply are not The Classic.
Ed Fields is an ASU alumnus and Senior Advisor and Chief Strategist for the City of Birmingham. (Provided)Happy Classic
After moving to Birmingham in the early 2000s, my friends and I spent our Classic weekend cruising First Avenue North near Smitty City, popping in and out of rooms at the Sheraton Hotel, and attending signature events like Jeff McDaniels’ Klassic Martini Party. Happy Classic!
As my stamina and career progressed, I participated in more corporate, grown-up gatherings like Jay Roberson’s Wine Loft reception and the Soiree at The Club. One year, I recall standing on the patio of Onyx Night Club across from Legion Field with my friend Deon Gordon, watching the sun come up as night turned to day. Happy Classic!
Sometimes it is best to stick to the game, the parade, and the tailgate, unless your ticket game is strong for the Classic’s related events.
The reality is, to love the Classic is to love many parts of the Classic. It is a rare, enchanted relationship where each wonderful part is as meaningful as the sum of it all. That’s the Classic.
Still, there are people who do not celebrate the Classic. They don’t like the Classic. They don’t like the traffic. They don’t like that tailgate spots sell out within minutes. They don’t like parades.
They would rather stay home and enjoy a good movie.
To those people, I offer a revision of Kobe Bryant’s famous quote about lazy people: “I can’t relate to people who dislike the Classic. We don’t speak the same language. I don’t understand them. I’m not trying to understand them.”
Bless your heart. Happy Classic to you, too!
Classic Potential
For all of its economic vigor and energy, the Classic has always operated just shy of its ultimate potential. It represents one of the largest concentrations of educated, upwardly mobile Black talent in America. Why shouldn’t national corporate brands and regional firms treat this weekend as a premier talent recruitment pipeline?
Over the past 15 years, leaders in Birmingham have worked to expand the Classic beyond the playing field. In 2011, I partnered with marketer R. Jay White to produce “I Am The Classic,” an ESSENCE Festival–style empowerment expo featuring corporate career interviews, small-business marketplaces, and wellness symposiums. While that initiative did not persist, it planted a permanent seed for what was possible. Shortly thereafter, Waymond Jackson launched Birmingham Bound through the Birmingham Business Alliance — a Classic engagement between the business schools at ASU and Alabama A&M to recruit their graduates to Birmingham.
Under the Woodfin administration, we built Awaken, our Classic platform to elevate civil and human rights during this peak visitor weekend. We have showcased unsung civil rights advocates, youth leaders, and artists, amplifying their voices and presenting the city’s highest honor — the Putting People First award — to deserving leaders of culture. On top of all of that, we inspired the annual Randall L. Woodfin Charity Golf Tournament with SisterGolf, raising more than $100,000 for local educational initiatives over the last five years.
Healing Moments
One of my proudest moments was standing on a Kingston neighborhood street corner with Mayor Woodfin, Mayor Richard Arrington Jr., and longtime residents to dedicate a permanent memorial to Bonita Carter. Carter, killed in 1979 by a Birmingham police officer, galvanized Birmingham’s electorate to elect Dr. Richard Arrington Jr. as Birmingham’s first Black mayor. The memorial was held on the Thursday preceding the Classic. I stood apart and away from the crowd beside an elder holding a bottle in a brown paper bag. We didn’t speak, but I saw silent tears slide down his face—in remembrance of Bonita, or mourning whatever happened on that corner forty years earlier.
It turns out the Classic is also where Birmingham gathers when its heart is broken and needs healing.
In 2019, Kamille “Cupcake” McKinney was mourned during halftime of the Magic City Classic. (Provided)Two days after we memorialized Bonita Carter, we stood in hushed silence at Legion Field as 65,000 people mourned the tragic, inhumane death of three-year-old Kamille “Cupcake” McKinney during a halftime tribute at the 2019 Magic City Classic. Cupcake had been abducted from a birthday party two weeks earlier, her tiny body was found in a dumpster just three days before kickoff. The entire stadium — typically torn in rivalry — was unified in purple, Cupcake’s favorite color.
On the Sunday following the game, I stood in the pulpit of a packed sanctuary to deliver remarks on behalf of Mayor Woodfin at Cupcake’s funeral. It was one of the hardest things I ever had to do. Cupcake would have been 10 years old this year.
To the Mountaintop
Nearly thirty years ago, I descended through the breathtaking foothills of the Appalachian Mountains on I-65, like a long, winding birth canal, landing at Legion Field with the freshness of a newborn.
Indeed, the Magic City Classic birthed me into Birmingham. It was my portal to an incredible career, a loving family, and a community to cling to in moments of crisis.
Yet, I believe the Classic holds much more potential to go higher.
I’m counting on the next generation of alumni, university leaders, and civic enthusiasts to take the Classic from Jones Valley to the mountaintop.
All the way to the top!
Ed Fields is an Alabama State University alumnus and Senior Advisor and Chief Strategist for the City of Birmingham.
