You know the rest. (+1 for Christmas Vacation reference)
Another Christmas, come and gone. Another full frontal assault of family, food, fun, and tacky decorations in the books. I have to say that this was a most excellent (and I mean it, not in the Juan Antonio Samaranch diss of the Atlanta Olympics way) Christmas. Although I did not need any presents, I got some and they were all great. I ate all kinds of sugar filled, carb infested foods while I watched the Bulls, Knicks, Clippers and Thunder win their games. I drank my aunt's egg nog until I wanted to puke, then powered through and drank some more. I watched Christmas Vacation and laughed like I had never seen it before. If anyone sees me for the next two weeks, don't get annoyed if I say, "You serious, Clark?" every three sentences. It's going to happen.
It was a very Merry Christmas for Yu Darvish, the half-Iranian, half-Japanese pitcher, who is likely to be a Texas Ranger in the near future. The Rangers paid $51.7 million dollars just to have the right to negotiate with him. That's more dollars than people in Texas. That's more dollars that the populations of South Africa and South Korea, combined. That's more dollars than national championships claimed by Alabama.
$51.7 million dollars just to talk. 51.7 big ones just to say, "hey, you been picked up yet?" I get that for free at Laurel Park in Marietta when I go down there to play ball. Preposterous. I am worth at least five bucks....I'm a helluva rebounder, I have a nice jump hook, I dive for loose balls, I'm not that slow.....and I'm white. Anomalies like me deserve compensation.
Darvish identifies with his Japanese heritage, so I ask.......what is it about Japanese pitchers? Do they throw differently? I remember the fascination with Hideo Nomo (who had a nondescript career, considering his popularity) and the unbelievable price paid by the Boston Red Sox for Dice-K, who now sits the bench collecting a fat paycheck. He threw some sort of screwball he called a "Gyro Ball." This guy had teams bidding on him left and right until Boston ponied up enough cash where even the Yankees said, "Nah, we good." In a couple of seasons, our stupid American/Latino batters figured him out and have renderered him......normal. Arms are arms, regardless of what continent they were conceived upon. What happened to guys like Bob Gibson, Don Drysdale, Nolan Ryan, and Randy Johnson? No gimmicks, no weird glasses, no Gyro balls....they just threw really hard. They were also some of the meanest guys in the game. Bob Gibson once threw at Bobby Bonds while he was in the on-deck circle trying to catch a glimpse of Bob's windup. "You'll get your turn, Bobby!" he said. Drysdale would throw at your head and dare you to come to the mound and settle it. I'd pay $51.7 million for a guy like that....eccentricity and ethnicity be damned.
It was also a Merry Christmas for the NBA, who finally kicked off the season and had monster ratings. Strangely, the defending champion Mavericks were slaughtered at home by the Miami Heat. They were more lethargic than the staff of a Georgia DMV station at 4:59 PM. I actually stopped watching it in the 3rd quarter and watched "How the Grinch Stole Christmas." World Champion Shawn Marion and Dirk were bottled up all night by the more athletic Heat, who were grabbing boards and running with the ball before the Mavs could say "Roy Tarpley." (FYI, Tarpley was a first round choice of the Mavs in the late 80's, they leveraged their entire future on him, but instead of being a star, he was banned for life from the NBA for violating the drug policy. Boom! Fifteen years of futility. Tarpley is secretly from Acworth, Georgia.) Now, they will play a 66-game condensed schedule that will have some teams playing in five cities in less than two weeks. No wonder Shaq retired. If Shawn Kemp was still playing with this schedule, he would have 20 more kids.
It was not a Merry Christmas for the Cartersville Wal-Mart, who apparently has more used syringes littering their landscape than darkest dark alley in Atlanta. I told y'all, this place is a black hole of filth. My personal hell consists of being trapped in the Cartersville Wal-Mart with the song "Bleeding Love" on replay (since 95.5 The Beat played it every three minutes in 2008) with a gaggle of Georgia Tech fans scraping forks across plates and another gaggle of hicks chattering about lawn care on Nextel phones. No culprits have been apprehended, no leads have produced any information....it's just a prickly problem that is permeating that protruding pit of pathetic-ness over on Highway 20. Wal-Mart always causes the use of alliteration for yours truly. Horrible Hangar of Human Hopelessness. Foul Freak Show of Failure. Scornful Sour Skunk Smelling Stream of Cess in the South. Here's a short poem for you:
Wal Mart, your sliding doors are the gateway to insanity,
The lowest level of Southern humanity
Your syringes are many, I hope your shoppers have been few
Oh, Wal Mart, if you were a Facebook status....I would not like you.
It was not a Merry Christmas for Michael Gilliard, a junior linebacker for the University of Georgia. He is currently practicing light this week due to a sprained ankle...a sprain he obtained while running from an angry bull as he was cow tipping back in his hometown of Valdosta. On a scale of 1-10 of awesomeness, this is about a 73. I don't care about the time off. This event springboards Mike to one of my top five favorites on the team and has engrained the song "Maniac" in my head for the next 24 hours (+1 for Tommy Boy reference) I could see another player washing his shoes off, angrily saying to Mike, "these are the new Air Jordans, they are worth more than your life." (+1 for another Tommy Boy reference) Good luck Michigan State, our boys are ready for anything.
It was not a Merry Christmas for recently divorced Kris Humphries, who was voted the "most disliked" NBA player in a recent poll and was booed in his first game since his domestic disturbance drama unfolded (there's alliteration again. Maybe Kris will work at Wal-Mart after he gets cut after this season.) Hell, his wife's name was Kim Kardashian, he's from Minneapolis, Minnesota, he was a Golden Gopher and he went to Hopkins High. His sister's names are Krystal and Kaela. Look at all that alliteration. Kris.... you are finished, bro. Just retire now and learn how to repaint the blue handicap parking spots, since Wal-Mart has 2,354 of them in every parking lot.
So, it's on to a New Year. I hope it's a year filled with happiness, laughter, changes for the better and lower stress levels. I hope it's a year of more time with Laura and my family, more personal time, more trips to New York, less drama and less complaining. I hope it's a year of more Dawg victories, less Georgia Tech...everything, more Tim Tebow skits, and less Cam Newton, Ohio State, Jerry Sandusky, Joe Paterno and Nevin Shapiro. Here's to another year that Cassville is not swallowed up by the urban sprawl, Wal-Mart actually closes a store, donuts and milkshakes are proven to be a health food (along with pizza), and the FCC decides to shut down Fox, CNN and MSNBC until they can report good news. I hope all of you enjoy your holidays and be safe....remember, a cab ride only costs $5.00....the reputation you get from being in a "Just Busted" paper lasts forever.
Tuesday, December 27, 2011
Monday, December 19, 2011
The Bowl Game, Recruiting and What the Dawgs Need in 2012
When the last second ticked off the clock in the SEC Championship, the 2012 season started for me. I'm really disappointed in bowl selection, the opponent and the date of the game. The Outback Bowl with Michigan State will be a good matchup based on records (both 10-3), but it has less intrigue than a Dodge Neon. That is to say, there is nothing to it. We beat them in the Capital One Bowl two years ago in a snoozefest that I watched in NYC, hurting from New Year's Eve and re-evaluating my choice to voluntary consume Goldschlager. They played the "three yards and a cloud of dust" Big Ten style and we played our style....and simply outran them. I missed the 3rd quarter because somebody ran into the bar and said "hey! there's some paint drying on the sidewalk!" I know nothing of Michigan State, I don't know who they recruit, I have never been to Lansing (nor do I plan to ever go) and frankly, I don't care to know anything about them. I would rather play Northwestern, at least they are in Chicago (which is a freakin' awesome city) and somehow mix black and purple to make a uniform (I thought only Prince could pull this off) Not to mention, the damn game is being played on Monday, January 2nd. A workday. The day AFTER New Year's Day. Irrelevance, thy name is Outback Bowl. Seriously, that is like winning second place at church softball. Snore.
Anyhow, being the diehard I am, I will watch it. We should win this game. If not for anything, just to put another Big Ten notch in our belt.
So, I turn my eye to recruiting. Signing day is rapidly approaching. This is a HUGE deal for me and always has been. I literally shut down on this day, I am unapproachable and accomplish nothing all day. I remember 2002 Signing Day, when I skipped my Public Relations class because I heard that we had two surprise commitments coming our way. I got home just in time to see Fred Gibson and Gerald Anderson's names come across the UGASports screen. Or in 2005, when Matthew Stafford committed, I fist pumped in the middle of the law library. Some girl said, "shhhhhh!" I said, "hey, we just got a big commitment, Matthew Stafford." Three guys from Alabama stood up from their computers and congratulated me, then discussed their recruiting class with me. It's a religion, it really is.
Here is the progression for me: I wake up and check the UGASports website for early rumors. I call my Dad, Vinny, Jeremy, and a few Alabama friends. I pray to the Man Upstairs for a good day, that our commitments be plenty, that Auburn, Florida, Tennessee and Tech's classes all fall apart and they have to drop football altogether, and that my internet does not go down. If it did, I would probably re-enact the scene from Terminator 2 when Arnold hoses the entire LAPD with a Gatling gun from Cyberdyne's office window. Nobody would die, but the condition of my office equipment would deteriorate rapidly. I fly to work, not because I'm a dedicated employee, it is because I cannot check updates in the car. I tear into the front door, yell "not now!" before anyone can ask me to do anything and shut my office door. The phone rings....my internal Terminator computer zeroes in on the phone, registers the phone as an "imminent threat" and destroys it. When people actually enter my office, they get a series of "uh-huhs" and half-hearted "oh yeahs" and are shuffled out the door. Unless you are 6'4, 300 or run the 40 in 4.3....get the hell out. Then the signings start rolling in. Texts from friends abound, "Yes! Ray Drew is a Dawg!" or "Dang, Florida just got Easley, that DL from New York." When one of our main rivals get a good player, I watch his film instantly. I have a "I must kill Frank Drebin" moment and then it subsides. (+1 for Naked Gun reference) The entire day is filled with continuous F5's on my keyboard, coffee, and cussing like a stockbroker until the last ink dries.
Some people have remarked, "I cannot understand caring about where some 18 year old kid wants to play football." I then give them the evil eye, make a voodoo doll of them and begin to stab it with my plastic lunch fork from O'Charley's. I do not apologize for caring about the future of UGA football and the future of our closest rivals. Not one bit. It matters that we just replaced three offensive linemen or picked up another speedster to catch Aaron Murray's passes. It matters to me that Florida just signed a five star running back, or that half of Auburn's class will not qualify. I'm really excited about seeing how this year's class will shape up. So far, I'm very pleased with our commitments. Here are some highlights:
1) Keith Marshall: A running back from Raleigh, North Carolina who grew up loving the Dawgs. This guy can flat fly (there's "flat" again) and he is a bellcow for others to follow to UGA. Plus, his dad's name is Woodrow. I've just always liked that name, it takes a special man to pull off the name "Woodrow."
2) Faton Bauta: this guy is a beast. He is a QB, but he is built like a linebacker (6'3, 225) and is one of those high motor guys that would rather die than lose. He attends high school in Florida but he is actually from Brooklyn, NY. So, I'm already a huge fan and have already nicknamed him "Fuggitaboutit."
3) Jonathan Taylor: another beast for the D-Line (6'4 315) that plays as mean as he looks. Seriously, I showed his picture to one of my paralegals and she quit the firm. He is a south Georgia boy too, grew up in a pro-UGA county, committed early and has no intentions of going anywhere else.
4) John Theus: a mammoth O-Lineman from the Bolles School in Jacksonville, Florida. This will be our left tackle of the future. He's just like Michael Oher, except he's white, has red hair, and grew up on the beach, but other than that, pretty much identical.
5) Chester Brown: a giant Samoan kid from Brunswick for the O-line (6'5, 340). We have never had a Samoan player as far as I know. Forget the Soulja Boy, we got us the Haka dance now! I cannot wait to see this guy in pads, he is one of those "first off the bus" types that probably eats a walkon before practice every day.
So, what do the Dawgs need to be successful in 2012 and beyond? Well, the East is going to be....interesting. Florida and Tennessee are reeling from bad seasons, internal turmoil and coaching changes. Will Muschamp is the greatest thing to happen to Florida since Ponce De Leon. It's like watching a Civil War re-enactment, where everybody just stands there in a line and gets murdered by volley after volley. Nobody ducks. Nobody hides behind a tree. Everytime he opens his mouth, it's Pickett's Charge all over again. I hope he is there for 20 years. Poor Derek Dooley really stepped into a disaster in Knoxville. Lane Kiffin did more damage to that team than Charlie Weis could with a gift certificate to Baskin Robbins. South Carolina is losing most of their defense and Lattimore may miss the first couple of games of 2012. Vandy and Kentucky will be....Vandy and Kentucky. Missouri is the X-Factor and I haven't the slightest idea what to expect. In any event, we are predicted to win the East in 2012. We MUST take advantage of the down years of our rivals, get some high end talent and stop scheduling stupid games like Boise State and Oklahoma State.
We also need some other teams to step up and improve, thus weakening our rivals further. Here are a couple of teams that can really help us:
1) University of Miami Hurricanes: Seriously, if Miami is doing well, south Florida is closed off. If Al Golden starts winning in Coral Gables, you can forget anybody from West Palm, anywhere around Lake Okeechobee and southward. This hurts Florida and Auburn, who seems to get south Florida talent despite having nothing to offer except cow pastures and some almost dead trees.
2) University of North Carolina: Some of you are probably asking....UNC? Really? Yes. A strong North Carolina hurts Tennessee. The state of Tennessee has terrible high school football, and for years, they made their living from border states, just peep their past rosters. Since Richt has been at Georgia, the state has been mostly closed off to the Volunteers, except Da'Rick Rogers (and y'all can have him too). Saban has closed Bama off. Tennessee has been suffering and sliding more and more every year since 2005...coincidence? I think not. If they lose access to North Carolina, good night.
Other Important Football Stuff....
1) After only one season, Charlie Weis is leaving Florida to be the head coach of Kansas. Amazingly enough, he will be the second fattest coach in Kansas history. Mark Mangino pushed maximum density like a football sled across a frozen pond. He looked like Jabba the Hut with a mustache. Weis is not far behind, however. I just can't wait to see him in a Kansas sweatshirt, that Jayhawk will look like a damn Pterodactyl flying over the Pacific Ocean.
2) South Carolina people continue to whine about the Dawgs playing for the SEC Championship. Their logic: they did not lose to an East opponent, so they should be East Champs. I guess that 1969 ACC Championship banner is going to fly solo for at least another year, maybe you could call Alabama and borrow one of their banners? Just sayin....
3) Penn State continues to be a finger-pointing, political, CYA public relations nightmare. Now, Paterno has cancer and more victims are popping up across the Northeast. Maybe if they try hard enough, they'll get Sandusky charged with the Kennedy assassination. (+1 for A Few Good Men reference)
4) Georgia Tech is playing Utah in the Sun Bowl. Sister-Wives vs. TI-83 Calculators. Rick Majerus vs. Bobby Cremins. Salt Lake City vs. North Avenue. A respected Native American tribe vs. a tiny insect that forges nests in the ground and stings you while you cut grass. It's a no-brainer. Go you Hairy Utes!
5) While I typed this article, Gene Chizik sold his soul to the Devil, who then pawned it so he could buy Cam Newton's rookie card. Strangely enough, Auburn lost their #1 running back commitment to Alabama today. The circle of life (+1 for Lion King reference)....from the jungles of Africa to the Plains of Alabama...nobody escapes it....unless your Tim Tebow.
Anyhow, being the diehard I am, I will watch it. We should win this game. If not for anything, just to put another Big Ten notch in our belt.
So, I turn my eye to recruiting. Signing day is rapidly approaching. This is a HUGE deal for me and always has been. I literally shut down on this day, I am unapproachable and accomplish nothing all day. I remember 2002 Signing Day, when I skipped my Public Relations class because I heard that we had two surprise commitments coming our way. I got home just in time to see Fred Gibson and Gerald Anderson's names come across the UGASports screen. Or in 2005, when Matthew Stafford committed, I fist pumped in the middle of the law library. Some girl said, "shhhhhh!" I said, "hey, we just got a big commitment, Matthew Stafford." Three guys from Alabama stood up from their computers and congratulated me, then discussed their recruiting class with me. It's a religion, it really is.
Here is the progression for me: I wake up and check the UGASports website for early rumors. I call my Dad, Vinny, Jeremy, and a few Alabama friends. I pray to the Man Upstairs for a good day, that our commitments be plenty, that Auburn, Florida, Tennessee and Tech's classes all fall apart and they have to drop football altogether, and that my internet does not go down. If it did, I would probably re-enact the scene from Terminator 2 when Arnold hoses the entire LAPD with a Gatling gun from Cyberdyne's office window. Nobody would die, but the condition of my office equipment would deteriorate rapidly. I fly to work, not because I'm a dedicated employee, it is because I cannot check updates in the car. I tear into the front door, yell "not now!" before anyone can ask me to do anything and shut my office door. The phone rings....my internal Terminator computer zeroes in on the phone, registers the phone as an "imminent threat" and destroys it. When people actually enter my office, they get a series of "uh-huhs" and half-hearted "oh yeahs" and are shuffled out the door. Unless you are 6'4, 300 or run the 40 in 4.3....get the hell out. Then the signings start rolling in. Texts from friends abound, "Yes! Ray Drew is a Dawg!" or "Dang, Florida just got Easley, that DL from New York." When one of our main rivals get a good player, I watch his film instantly. I have a "I must kill Frank Drebin" moment and then it subsides. (+1 for Naked Gun reference) The entire day is filled with continuous F5's on my keyboard, coffee, and cussing like a stockbroker until the last ink dries.
Some people have remarked, "I cannot understand caring about where some 18 year old kid wants to play football." I then give them the evil eye, make a voodoo doll of them and begin to stab it with my plastic lunch fork from O'Charley's. I do not apologize for caring about the future of UGA football and the future of our closest rivals. Not one bit. It matters that we just replaced three offensive linemen or picked up another speedster to catch Aaron Murray's passes. It matters to me that Florida just signed a five star running back, or that half of Auburn's class will not qualify. I'm really excited about seeing how this year's class will shape up. So far, I'm very pleased with our commitments. Here are some highlights:
1) Keith Marshall: A running back from Raleigh, North Carolina who grew up loving the Dawgs. This guy can flat fly (there's "flat" again) and he is a bellcow for others to follow to UGA. Plus, his dad's name is Woodrow. I've just always liked that name, it takes a special man to pull off the name "Woodrow."
2) Faton Bauta: this guy is a beast. He is a QB, but he is built like a linebacker (6'3, 225) and is one of those high motor guys that would rather die than lose. He attends high school in Florida but he is actually from Brooklyn, NY. So, I'm already a huge fan and have already nicknamed him "Fuggitaboutit."
3) Jonathan Taylor: another beast for the D-Line (6'4 315) that plays as mean as he looks. Seriously, I showed his picture to one of my paralegals and she quit the firm. He is a south Georgia boy too, grew up in a pro-UGA county, committed early and has no intentions of going anywhere else.
4) John Theus: a mammoth O-Lineman from the Bolles School in Jacksonville, Florida. This will be our left tackle of the future. He's just like Michael Oher, except he's white, has red hair, and grew up on the beach, but other than that, pretty much identical.
5) Chester Brown: a giant Samoan kid from Brunswick for the O-line (6'5, 340). We have never had a Samoan player as far as I know. Forget the Soulja Boy, we got us the Haka dance now! I cannot wait to see this guy in pads, he is one of those "first off the bus" types that probably eats a walkon before practice every day.
So, what do the Dawgs need to be successful in 2012 and beyond? Well, the East is going to be....interesting. Florida and Tennessee are reeling from bad seasons, internal turmoil and coaching changes. Will Muschamp is the greatest thing to happen to Florida since Ponce De Leon. It's like watching a Civil War re-enactment, where everybody just stands there in a line and gets murdered by volley after volley. Nobody ducks. Nobody hides behind a tree. Everytime he opens his mouth, it's Pickett's Charge all over again. I hope he is there for 20 years. Poor Derek Dooley really stepped into a disaster in Knoxville. Lane Kiffin did more damage to that team than Charlie Weis could with a gift certificate to Baskin Robbins. South Carolina is losing most of their defense and Lattimore may miss the first couple of games of 2012. Vandy and Kentucky will be....Vandy and Kentucky. Missouri is the X-Factor and I haven't the slightest idea what to expect. In any event, we are predicted to win the East in 2012. We MUST take advantage of the down years of our rivals, get some high end talent and stop scheduling stupid games like Boise State and Oklahoma State.
We also need some other teams to step up and improve, thus weakening our rivals further. Here are a couple of teams that can really help us:
1) University of Miami Hurricanes: Seriously, if Miami is doing well, south Florida is closed off. If Al Golden starts winning in Coral Gables, you can forget anybody from West Palm, anywhere around Lake Okeechobee and southward. This hurts Florida and Auburn, who seems to get south Florida talent despite having nothing to offer except cow pastures and some almost dead trees.
2) University of North Carolina: Some of you are probably asking....UNC? Really? Yes. A strong North Carolina hurts Tennessee. The state of Tennessee has terrible high school football, and for years, they made their living from border states, just peep their past rosters. Since Richt has been at Georgia, the state has been mostly closed off to the Volunteers, except Da'Rick Rogers (and y'all can have him too). Saban has closed Bama off. Tennessee has been suffering and sliding more and more every year since 2005...coincidence? I think not. If they lose access to North Carolina, good night.
Other Important Football Stuff....
1) After only one season, Charlie Weis is leaving Florida to be the head coach of Kansas. Amazingly enough, he will be the second fattest coach in Kansas history. Mark Mangino pushed maximum density like a football sled across a frozen pond. He looked like Jabba the Hut with a mustache. Weis is not far behind, however. I just can't wait to see him in a Kansas sweatshirt, that Jayhawk will look like a damn Pterodactyl flying over the Pacific Ocean.
2) South Carolina people continue to whine about the Dawgs playing for the SEC Championship. Their logic: they did not lose to an East opponent, so they should be East Champs. I guess that 1969 ACC Championship banner is going to fly solo for at least another year, maybe you could call Alabama and borrow one of their banners? Just sayin....
3) Penn State continues to be a finger-pointing, political, CYA public relations nightmare. Now, Paterno has cancer and more victims are popping up across the Northeast. Maybe if they try hard enough, they'll get Sandusky charged with the Kennedy assassination. (+1 for A Few Good Men reference)
4) Georgia Tech is playing Utah in the Sun Bowl. Sister-Wives vs. TI-83 Calculators. Rick Majerus vs. Bobby Cremins. Salt Lake City vs. North Avenue. A respected Native American tribe vs. a tiny insect that forges nests in the ground and stings you while you cut grass. It's a no-brainer. Go you Hairy Utes!
5) While I typed this article, Gene Chizik sold his soul to the Devil, who then pawned it so he could buy Cam Newton's rookie card. Strangely enough, Auburn lost their #1 running back commitment to Alabama today. The circle of life (+1 for Lion King reference)....from the jungles of Africa to the Plains of Alabama...nobody escapes it....unless your Tim Tebow.
Tuesday, December 13, 2011
Country Comes to Town....or impromptu visits to NYC make my year
This has been a long year, to say the least. Considering what I do for a living, what I have to hear day in and day out, and the constant flow of negativity that courses through every courtroom I find myself in...it's a wonder I stay sane and sober. When I was in law school, we had a representative from the State Bar come and speak to us about how our lives would change once we passed the Bar. He proceeded to describe the stress, the long hours, the emotional tolls and the financial burdens of student loan payments. Then he showed us an overhead projector presentation that basically illustrated how attorneys lead all professionals in everything bad: drug abuse, alcohol abuse, domestic problems, criminal activity, heart diseases, strokes.....scurvy, polio, and Rocky Mountain Spotted Fever. You name it...we do it, get it, hit it or drink it. It was quite depressing honestly. Being a bankruptcy attorney in 2011 was not for the faint of heart, let me tell you. I've definitely looked in the mirror a few times and said to myself, "You'd be an awesome basketball coach."
This past weekend helped me realize that I will make it, no matter what. There is always a better time and a better place. Bad days come and go, bad people come and go....there's nothing you can do to stop it. You just have to plow through bad days to get to the light at the end of the tunnel. Trust me y'all, there are so many lights out there, they drown out the darkness real fast. My light at the end of the tunnel this weekend was yet another trip to New York City...my 9th in the last two years. I have never hidden my love for New York. It is the greatest city in the world and I can say that with all certainty. As certain as Jarvis Jones admitting to actually being the Predator at some point, as certain as Kevin Costner admitting The Postman is the worst movie ever, as certain as Chris Bosh admitting that he was E.T.'s stunt double. It's absolute, y'all.
This New York recap is brought to you by three high gravity Belgian beers (the names of which are impossible to pronounce), the southbound 6 train to the East Village (hey, John Rocker, I survived this one too, weird huh?) and the five minutes I actually spent in my hotel room.
So, we land at LaGuardia and I'm starved beyond belief. A Seattle's Best bagel ain't gonna do it. Laura sees the look of death in my eyes. Hunger does many things to people, but to yours truly, it's anger. I'm talking vitriolic hatred of all animate and inanimate objects. The anger I have when I'm hungry can only be rivaled by few things: 1) A loss to Tech; 2) Loud hand dryers in small bathrooms; 3) Slow elevators and 4) cold grits. She looks to the cabbie and says, "Step on it, buddy." I look to see his name on his permit....Deepak. Bless Deepak's heart. He cleared Queens and blew into Manhattan like his head was on fire. I actually like driving through Queens. The Ramones came from Queens, as did 50 Cent, Run DMC, and Onyx (90's kids...remember Slam?) So did Ron Artest, Kenny Anderson and Sundiata Gaines (one of my favorite Dawgs ever). Coming to America was based and filmed there, I swear I can almost see My-T-Sharp barbershop off the Van Wyck Expressway. In any event, I barely looked at Queens. All I could see was steak, cannelloni, lasagna or whatever else I was about to destroy on 55th Street.
I ran into my hotel room and hip tossed my luggage in the corner. Laura just attached herself to my belt loop and ran alongside the anger tornado, cutting a path through the lobby toward Rockefeller Center. Seriously, it was like Twister, except there were no cows,Philip Seymour Hoffman in an RV cranking Deep Purple's "Child in Time" or uncomfortably bad lines by Bill Paxton. Doormen and bellhops flew aside as if weightless. The revolving door spun off the hinge and crushed a rickshaw. Morrell's was the choice (not the crappy chain, a local place). It was a wine bar and served steak sandwiches and other great food that could be prepared in the blink of an eye. I looked at the waiter and said "nothing can prepare you for the unbridled carnage you are about to witness." (+1 for Trading Places reference) Soup, salad, sandwiches, tacos, lobster, and the waiter's hand were all promptly engulfed, along with two glasses of Italian wine that were almost as good as Franzia box wine. Almost. (tongue planted firmly in my cheek, of course) They had so many wines, you had to order by number. We should have done that with cigarettes at Cass Grocery, how formal would that have been?
Me: "Hey, Dwayne, how y'all?
Dwayne: "We good. Momma's doin' better. Lemme get this Co-Cola (Coca-Cola) and hmmmmm....a 138."
Me: "Aaaah, Kool Mild 100's....an excellent choice."
Then the group looked at one another and agreed, it was time to party. But first, they wanted to ice skate. Simply, I don't ice skate. My knees and ankles have been killed by pounding pavement and hardwood courts, but nothing hurts them worse than skating. Seriously, imagine fence staples being jammed into your joints and tendons every four seconds, that's how ice skating feels. (for you non-rural types, fence staples are insanely sharp) So, I go to the NBA Store and immerse myself in the wonderful-ness of it all. I walked in, pulled an Archie Graham and said, "Is this Heaven?" The employee, puzzled, said, "Naw, dawg, it's Fif Avenue." (+1.5 for Field of Dreams reference and subreference to Chappelle's Show). I meander through throwback jerseys (I especially liked the old school Chris Jackson Nuggets jersey) and then retreat back to the chaos of the New York streets. There is nothing on Earth like the streets of New York. It is a whirlwind of humanity, automobiles, skyscrapers, street vendors and construction crews. If we were measuring it on the tornado scale...Atlanta would be an F2, New York would be an F5. (cue the worst part of Twister, when everyone drops their silverware when Jamie Gertz says, "has anyone ever seen an F5?" I wanted to dig a hole and bury all of them in it, except Philip Seymour Hoffman. I knew he'd be great. It was the Deep Purple scene, I swear.)
We meet at a Thai restaurant near the eastern border of Midtown. I enjoyed the Thai food, but wow, my face almost melted. My chopsticks actually caught on fire at one point. My waitress came to me and said, "You like?" After I dried my tears, put out my tongue fire and revised my will, I said "Hayul yeah!" in the most Southern voice I could muster. Sue me, I gotta represent wherever I go! Plus, I had a few Stella Artois pints to assist my growing "happy" feeling and I was really jacked about heading to Broadway. There is something so awesome about Broadway. The history coupled with the ambience absolutely seduces me.
We are slated to see "Rock of Ages," a homage to 80's hair ballads. The show instantly grabs me and I am awash in a sea of Journey, Warrant, Night Ranger and Def Leppard. They even did a montage scene, like any cheesy 80's flick, complete with "I Don't Want to Live Without You" by Foreigner. When they dove into "High Enough" by the Damn Yankees, I swear I almost cried. I love that song. Patrons were dancing in the rows and the cast was loving it. It was one of the most entertaining shows I have ever seen. It was not thought provoking, it was just a story about rock n' roll with typical 80's movie storylines. I highly encourage anyone to see it, but don't bother if you don't like innuendo about every vice and sin of the flesh known to man. Like bankruptcy law, it's not for the faint of heart.
Then it's on to a karaoke bar on 35th Street. This place has private rooms where they serve you food and drinks while you blaze away at just about any song that has ever been recorded. In the two hours I was there, I soloed "Theme from New York, New York" by Frank Sinatra, "Tracks of my Tears" by Smokey Robinson and the Miracles and since I just heard it, "High Enough." Laura's co-worker, Matt and I also provided a riveting duet on "Groove is in the Heart" by Dee-Lite. (90's kids, where you at? Everybody loves this song.) The girls tried "Sweet Home Alabama" but it just does not sound right in a female voice. Some songs are just not meant to be female soprano or falsetto, just like some others cannot be male tenor or bass. (i.e., "18 Wheels and a Dozen Roses" by Kathy Mattea or "Try Again" by Aaliyah....just not meant for a man's voice). Nonetheless, it was a fantastic night. I ordered room service pizza when we got back, but Laura was history before it was delivered, so I had to eat it all. (Darn.)
The next day was a great day to be alive as well. First, the temperature was a balmy 34 with a wind from the east. I almost wore my "Gatlinburg 1984" t-shirt, but I thought better of it. They aren't ready for wolves howling over canyons in Manhattan. I sacrificed breakfast to the hunger gods and then met everyone at an hour later at an Irish pub called Blaggard's, where I killed a guacamole and hot sauce covered burger. Never have I had such a concoction, but I'm telling you, it was phenomenal. It was as good as a steak covered in grits, Hershey's syrup, pistachio ice cream, and Waffle House hash browns. (That's food Heaven, y'all, seriously.) Laura went to get pampered at a salon and I went to meet my old friend Brian in The Village. I get on the 6 train going south and am surrounded by about 30 drunken people dressed in Santa Claus outfits. One of them pulls an airplane bottle of Jack Daniel's out of his suit and kills it. A mariachi band gets on the train with them and somebody says, "I think it's about f***** time for a Christmas song!" They annihilate Feliz Navidad from 51st Street all the way down to 14th Street. Apparently, this is a New York tradition. There were literally thousands of hammered Santas roaming Manhattan. On 2nd Avenue, I saw one Santa punt kick a football on top of a tweny story building while holding a bottle of Zinfandel. The kick impressed the hell out of me, but then I realized he was drinking Zinfandel, so I moved on.
Two Bartow natives in the Village = trouble. Three Belgian high gravity beers, childhood memory discussions, and authentic Japanese food later and we're doing awesome (in the Barney Stinson sense). We meet up with Laura and go to a dive bar called Johnny's on 43. Some of the best beers ever here. Stuff you've never heard of....with mile long names like Mike's Ethos Grainy Water Pale Stout Pacific Wheat Ale. Seriously, why do they do that? I just pointed to the menu and said "this.". It would be like watching my Dad order at Planet Smoothie. If my Dad was forced to say "Mediterranean Monster," he would probably burn all his Black Sabbath and Mountain records and start listening to Cyndi Lauper. (who is also from Queens, by the way)
Anyhow, I had my Southern chivalry moment here. I was waiting to be seated when a drunken customer bumped into the hostess, almost flooring her. Yours truly caught her in mid air and restored her vertically. She looked at me with astonishment and said, "can you believe that guy?" He was already walking away when I grabbed his arm. I'm talking like the arm grab that you got when you were bad in church. I pinched his arm fat and dragged him back, "Apologize. Now." He was in no shape or stature to do anything other than obey, like a good little dog. Needless to say, our service improved after that.
The rest of the trip was laden with great food, friends and laughs. My waitress at this Italian place accidentally brought me a salad when I did not order one. She had called the order wrong, so I got a free salad along with my real appetizer and some excellent tagliolini. Then, to make up for it, we got a free tiramisu. I was so offended by the free food, that I tipped her 30%. This was one of those family owned places and their reputation means everything to them. Much like Cass Grocery was for us. I freakin' love New York.
So, it's back to the real world, refreshed and ready to hit the ground running. My light at the end of the tunnel never fails me. I'm missing football but glad that Christmas is here and most people are in a good mood. I know it won't last and a lot of people will return to their misery, but I honestly pay them no mind. I can think about belting out "Lights" by Journey in a karaoke bar, having the best prosciutto sandwich ever or enjoying a nice cocktail off Central Park West with family and friends quicker than a Kenny Anderson crossover. Have a great week!
This past weekend helped me realize that I will make it, no matter what. There is always a better time and a better place. Bad days come and go, bad people come and go....there's nothing you can do to stop it. You just have to plow through bad days to get to the light at the end of the tunnel. Trust me y'all, there are so many lights out there, they drown out the darkness real fast. My light at the end of the tunnel this weekend was yet another trip to New York City...my 9th in the last two years. I have never hidden my love for New York. It is the greatest city in the world and I can say that with all certainty. As certain as Jarvis Jones admitting to actually being the Predator at some point, as certain as Kevin Costner admitting The Postman is the worst movie ever, as certain as Chris Bosh admitting that he was E.T.'s stunt double. It's absolute, y'all.
This New York recap is brought to you by three high gravity Belgian beers (the names of which are impossible to pronounce), the southbound 6 train to the East Village (hey, John Rocker, I survived this one too, weird huh?) and the five minutes I actually spent in my hotel room.
So, we land at LaGuardia and I'm starved beyond belief. A Seattle's Best bagel ain't gonna do it. Laura sees the look of death in my eyes. Hunger does many things to people, but to yours truly, it's anger. I'm talking vitriolic hatred of all animate and inanimate objects. The anger I have when I'm hungry can only be rivaled by few things: 1) A loss to Tech; 2) Loud hand dryers in small bathrooms; 3) Slow elevators and 4) cold grits. She looks to the cabbie and says, "Step on it, buddy." I look to see his name on his permit....Deepak. Bless Deepak's heart. He cleared Queens and blew into Manhattan like his head was on fire. I actually like driving through Queens. The Ramones came from Queens, as did 50 Cent, Run DMC, and Onyx (90's kids...remember Slam?) So did Ron Artest, Kenny Anderson and Sundiata Gaines (one of my favorite Dawgs ever). Coming to America was based and filmed there, I swear I can almost see My-T-Sharp barbershop off the Van Wyck Expressway. In any event, I barely looked at Queens. All I could see was steak, cannelloni, lasagna or whatever else I was about to destroy on 55th Street.
I ran into my hotel room and hip tossed my luggage in the corner. Laura just attached herself to my belt loop and ran alongside the anger tornado, cutting a path through the lobby toward Rockefeller Center. Seriously, it was like Twister, except there were no cows,Philip Seymour Hoffman in an RV cranking Deep Purple's "Child in Time" or uncomfortably bad lines by Bill Paxton. Doormen and bellhops flew aside as if weightless. The revolving door spun off the hinge and crushed a rickshaw. Morrell's was the choice (not the crappy chain, a local place). It was a wine bar and served steak sandwiches and other great food that could be prepared in the blink of an eye. I looked at the waiter and said "nothing can prepare you for the unbridled carnage you are about to witness." (+1 for Trading Places reference) Soup, salad, sandwiches, tacos, lobster, and the waiter's hand were all promptly engulfed, along with two glasses of Italian wine that were almost as good as Franzia box wine. Almost. (tongue planted firmly in my cheek, of course) They had so many wines, you had to order by number. We should have done that with cigarettes at Cass Grocery, how formal would that have been?
Me: "Hey, Dwayne, how y'all?
Dwayne: "We good. Momma's doin' better. Lemme get this Co-Cola (Coca-Cola) and hmmmmm....a 138."
Me: "Aaaah, Kool Mild 100's....an excellent choice."
Then the group looked at one another and agreed, it was time to party. But first, they wanted to ice skate. Simply, I don't ice skate. My knees and ankles have been killed by pounding pavement and hardwood courts, but nothing hurts them worse than skating. Seriously, imagine fence staples being jammed into your joints and tendons every four seconds, that's how ice skating feels. (for you non-rural types, fence staples are insanely sharp) So, I go to the NBA Store and immerse myself in the wonderful-ness of it all. I walked in, pulled an Archie Graham and said, "Is this Heaven?" The employee, puzzled, said, "Naw, dawg, it's Fif Avenue." (+1.5 for Field of Dreams reference and subreference to Chappelle's Show). I meander through throwback jerseys (I especially liked the old school Chris Jackson Nuggets jersey) and then retreat back to the chaos of the New York streets. There is nothing on Earth like the streets of New York. It is a whirlwind of humanity, automobiles, skyscrapers, street vendors and construction crews. If we were measuring it on the tornado scale...Atlanta would be an F2, New York would be an F5. (cue the worst part of Twister, when everyone drops their silverware when Jamie Gertz says, "has anyone ever seen an F5?" I wanted to dig a hole and bury all of them in it, except Philip Seymour Hoffman. I knew he'd be great. It was the Deep Purple scene, I swear.)
We meet at a Thai restaurant near the eastern border of Midtown. I enjoyed the Thai food, but wow, my face almost melted. My chopsticks actually caught on fire at one point. My waitress came to me and said, "You like?" After I dried my tears, put out my tongue fire and revised my will, I said "Hayul yeah!" in the most Southern voice I could muster. Sue me, I gotta represent wherever I go! Plus, I had a few Stella Artois pints to assist my growing "happy" feeling and I was really jacked about heading to Broadway. There is something so awesome about Broadway. The history coupled with the ambience absolutely seduces me.
We are slated to see "Rock of Ages," a homage to 80's hair ballads. The show instantly grabs me and I am awash in a sea of Journey, Warrant, Night Ranger and Def Leppard. They even did a montage scene, like any cheesy 80's flick, complete with "I Don't Want to Live Without You" by Foreigner. When they dove into "High Enough" by the Damn Yankees, I swear I almost cried. I love that song. Patrons were dancing in the rows and the cast was loving it. It was one of the most entertaining shows I have ever seen. It was not thought provoking, it was just a story about rock n' roll with typical 80's movie storylines. I highly encourage anyone to see it, but don't bother if you don't like innuendo about every vice and sin of the flesh known to man. Like bankruptcy law, it's not for the faint of heart.
Then it's on to a karaoke bar on 35th Street. This place has private rooms where they serve you food and drinks while you blaze away at just about any song that has ever been recorded. In the two hours I was there, I soloed "Theme from New York, New York" by Frank Sinatra, "Tracks of my Tears" by Smokey Robinson and the Miracles and since I just heard it, "High Enough." Laura's co-worker, Matt and I also provided a riveting duet on "Groove is in the Heart" by Dee-Lite. (90's kids, where you at? Everybody loves this song.) The girls tried "Sweet Home Alabama" but it just does not sound right in a female voice. Some songs are just not meant to be female soprano or falsetto, just like some others cannot be male tenor or bass. (i.e., "18 Wheels and a Dozen Roses" by Kathy Mattea or "Try Again" by Aaliyah....just not meant for a man's voice). Nonetheless, it was a fantastic night. I ordered room service pizza when we got back, but Laura was history before it was delivered, so I had to eat it all. (Darn.)
The next day was a great day to be alive as well. First, the temperature was a balmy 34 with a wind from the east. I almost wore my "Gatlinburg 1984" t-shirt, but I thought better of it. They aren't ready for wolves howling over canyons in Manhattan. I sacrificed breakfast to the hunger gods and then met everyone at an hour later at an Irish pub called Blaggard's, where I killed a guacamole and hot sauce covered burger. Never have I had such a concoction, but I'm telling you, it was phenomenal. It was as good as a steak covered in grits, Hershey's syrup, pistachio ice cream, and Waffle House hash browns. (That's food Heaven, y'all, seriously.) Laura went to get pampered at a salon and I went to meet my old friend Brian in The Village. I get on the 6 train going south and am surrounded by about 30 drunken people dressed in Santa Claus outfits. One of them pulls an airplane bottle of Jack Daniel's out of his suit and kills it. A mariachi band gets on the train with them and somebody says, "I think it's about f***** time for a Christmas song!" They annihilate Feliz Navidad from 51st Street all the way down to 14th Street. Apparently, this is a New York tradition. There were literally thousands of hammered Santas roaming Manhattan. On 2nd Avenue, I saw one Santa punt kick a football on top of a tweny story building while holding a bottle of Zinfandel. The kick impressed the hell out of me, but then I realized he was drinking Zinfandel, so I moved on.
Two Bartow natives in the Village = trouble. Three Belgian high gravity beers, childhood memory discussions, and authentic Japanese food later and we're doing awesome (in the Barney Stinson sense). We meet up with Laura and go to a dive bar called Johnny's on 43. Some of the best beers ever here. Stuff you've never heard of....with mile long names like Mike's Ethos Grainy Water Pale Stout Pacific Wheat Ale. Seriously, why do they do that? I just pointed to the menu and said "this.". It would be like watching my Dad order at Planet Smoothie. If my Dad was forced to say "Mediterranean Monster," he would probably burn all his Black Sabbath and Mountain records and start listening to Cyndi Lauper. (who is also from Queens, by the way)
Anyhow, I had my Southern chivalry moment here. I was waiting to be seated when a drunken customer bumped into the hostess, almost flooring her. Yours truly caught her in mid air and restored her vertically. She looked at me with astonishment and said, "can you believe that guy?" He was already walking away when I grabbed his arm. I'm talking like the arm grab that you got when you were bad in church. I pinched his arm fat and dragged him back, "Apologize. Now." He was in no shape or stature to do anything other than obey, like a good little dog. Needless to say, our service improved after that.
The rest of the trip was laden with great food, friends and laughs. My waitress at this Italian place accidentally brought me a salad when I did not order one. She had called the order wrong, so I got a free salad along with my real appetizer and some excellent tagliolini. Then, to make up for it, we got a free tiramisu. I was so offended by the free food, that I tipped her 30%. This was one of those family owned places and their reputation means everything to them. Much like Cass Grocery was for us. I freakin' love New York.
So, it's back to the real world, refreshed and ready to hit the ground running. My light at the end of the tunnel never fails me. I'm missing football but glad that Christmas is here and most people are in a good mood. I know it won't last and a lot of people will return to their misery, but I honestly pay them no mind. I can think about belting out "Lights" by Journey in a karaoke bar, having the best prosciutto sandwich ever or enjoying a nice cocktail off Central Park West with family and friends quicker than a Kenny Anderson crossover. Have a great week!
Tuesday, December 6, 2011
Recap of the Weekend....or Honey Badger Doesn't Care About Goal Lines
After scrambling last week's game around in my head, reading the stats and making heads or tails of the final result, I have only come to one conclusion.....we got our rearends kicked on Saturday, plain and simple. Scrap the first half....it was an aberration, a blip on the radar, a tiny gnat smashed on the windshield of a Gold and Purple Peterbilt dragging 500,000 pounds of dynamite. I've never seen such a performance, save the 2008 Alabama game when they obliterated an unmotivated, entitled squad of Dawgs, which caused the 2009-2010 downward spiral, if you ask me. It was sad to see our guys take it on the chin and even sadder to see SOME of the players accepting it and going through the motions, just trying to get the game over with.
I'm not being a sore loser, or fairweathered. I'm a Dawg for life. LSU is without question the most talented team we've seen since Alabama in 2008 or Florida in 2009. It was just unsettling to see such a game, with our recent surge and ever-growing hope. This recap is brought to you by Wild Turkey, Carlotta wine (thank you Dave Grega) and Al Pacino. Why Al? Because nobody can punctuate anger, frustration, and all-out "I'm gonna cut your Achilles with a butter knife" fury like Al can.
Honestly, I expected LSU to win. Even with the halftime lead, I just felt as if a tidal wave was about to hit us. The drops by the receivers, the punt return by Honey Badger, the blown opportunities....mistakes that would matter little against Kentucky and Vandy...they made all the difference against this group of Swamp Kitties. I will not retiterate those plays, I simply cannot. My sanity will not allow it. If I recanted those events here, I am liable to take a flamethrower to this place (+1 for Scent of a Woman reference) I will not describe my utter disgust when Aaron Murray's perfect pass was completely missed by Tavarres King. I simply refuse to spell out my "kick a hole in the wall" disbelief when Malcolm Mitchell dropped a sure touchdown on the five yard line. I will not do it. Never will I paint the picture of yours truly on his knees, aghast, watching Honey Badger weave his way to a "score" on the first punt return of the game. Les Miles grinned, ate a clump of grass and said, "say hello to my little friend." (+1 for Scarface reference) Why we kicked to that man, I have no idea. It's one of those inexplicable phenomena, like voluntary non-alumni Georgia Tech fans, decaf coffee, sugar free pecan pie, the 55 MPH speed limit on I-285 and the Honda Element.
If football is a game of inches, it has never been more true than on that particular play. In case you were wondering, Honey Badger flipped the ball to the referee before he crossed the goal line. It was evident from all angles. Unfortunately, said referee was too busy signaling a touchdown on the five yard line to notice. The upstairs guys were too busy cashing their checks from the BCS to review it. Verne and Gary replayed it 73 times, complete with unabashed adoration for all things LSU, and then conceded that he did not score. I bet that hurt. I'm sure that Les Miles called up there at halftime and said, "Verne, Gary, you're the second best announcing team on CBS and I love you, but don't take sides against the family with anyone, ever again." (+1 for Godfather 2 reference) And our coaches, well, I guess they were too busy coddling Crowell to see it. Isaiah has really let the entire Dawgnation down lately and nothing was worse than watching him milk his ankle/leg/foot injury all game long. He came out of the first series with such a pronounced limp, I thought he was done for sure. Then, as if the healing power of God graced his tibia, fibula and metatarsals, he would make a cut and dash for 10 yards, then disappear for another 10 minutes. It was another inexplicable phenomena, like tanning salons in Florida, Larry the Cable Guy's popularity with anyone over age 14 and the 2011 Indianapolis Colts.
It's not like the entire game was bad. Our defense was stellar in the first half. LSU had zero first downs, Jordan Jefferson looked like George Jefferson throwing the ball, and their running game was nonexistent. We made them one-dimensional. Unfortunately, so were we. Our special teams and offense (except Orson Charles, Ben Jones and Aron White) decided to play their worst games since Vanderbilt and Kentucky, respectively. We won those games, because neither of those teams even compare to LSU. The only things that LSU has in common with Vandy/Kentucky: 1) They are in the SEC; 2) They have a football team; 3) They are universities in the United States. That's it. Not one player on Vandy/Kentucky would be on the two-deep at LSU, with the exception of Danny Trevathan (UK's linebacker).
The second half was.....abhorrent. Wild Turkey flowed. I looked at my Dad at one point and said, "This is like a bad Twilight Zone. I think I'm growing a tumor." (+1 for Tommy Boy reference) I cannot think of one positive thing that occurred in the second half, with the exception of the clock hitting 0:00. Aaron Murray had the worst game of this season, not entirely his fault, as he was flushed from the pocket repeatedly. Carlton Thomas was eaten like crawfish etoufee by Barkevious Mingo. Crowell was AWOL. "Has anyone seen Scanners?" I remarked. (+1 for another Tommy Boy reference) I saw Crowell angrily walking away from Coach Richt while Coach was trying to speak to him, another low moment of the evening. It was then, I looked toward Athens and said "I do renounce him." (+1 for Godfather reference) The defense, after being called upon to defend our goal constantly, finally wore out. The glad tidings of the first half disappeared quickly, doing us no better than eating large quantities of chocolate. (+1 for Devil's Advocate reference) Not to mention, we punt out of our own end zone in the 3rd quarter, right to Honey Badger. He bobs and weaves his way to our 17 yard line. Call us "X-Files" because..... you guessed it, more inexplicable phenomena...like the purpose of the IRS, pillowed outdoor furniture, convertible PT Cruisers and the relevance of the SAT.
Omens abounded this week. I should have known not to get my hopes up. First, my tickets for the game fell through. The guy I bought them from mailed them from Alabama via US Mail and they never arrived. My dog pooped in her crate for the first time in weeks. I had a bad cup of coffee at Starbucks. The Dawgvent was completely negative with news about Crowell's apparent temper tantrum at practice. I didn't eat Waffle House (a gameday tradition) early Saturday morning. My work week was terrible, proving that the human race can indeed find new ways to suck the life right out of me. Seriously, has anyone seen Scanners? When Claiborne pick-sixed Murray to make it 42-10, I swallowed a glass of Wild Turkey and went outside. I could not watch the SEC championship go down in flames, so I decided to look at the pasture instead. I could not watch the LSU players laugh and cut up at our expense. In a metaphoric moment, I realized that this loss would be forgotten, wiped away as clean as this empty field, and guys like Jarvis Jones, Garrison Smith, John Jenkins, Richard Samuel, Alec Ogletree, Kenarious Gates, Aaron Murray, and Shawn Williams would grow from this loss. We will likely be highly ranked next season, guys who are hurt will be healthy again, and our schedule is favorable. You truly can't win 'em all.....unless you are LSU.
So, now we head to the Outback Bowl against Michigan State. I speak for the majority of the Dawgnation when I say, "Ugh." Been there, done that. This is like getting a great bottle of wine and then while opening it, the damn cork falls in. We have only ourselves to blame for this lackluster bowl, but we still need to win it. We need to win 11 games, we need to finish on a high note and we need to represent our conference well. I think we will do so. Losing to a Big Ten school is like getting sucker punched by a midget, you get knocked out and it goes viral on Youtube. It simply cannot happen. Although I was severely depressed by this recent loss, I am still so proud of the football team. Jarvis and Orson made 1st Team All-America. Recruiting is picking up. It's looking like contract extensions for Richt and Grantham. We defeated Auburn, Tennessee, Florida and Tech all in one season. I guess I'll let Al sum it all up for me.....
"Just when I thought I was out, they pull me right back in." (+1 for Godfather 3 reference) Go Dawgs.
Other Highlights:
1) LSU vs. Alabama for the National Title. Regardless of how they arrived at this conclusion, it's the right one. Still, there should be a playoff and based on what I've seen, these two would seal club everyone else in said playoff. I predict another bloodletting and this time, I think the Tide comes out on top, 12-10. (unless Cade Foster and Shelley screw it up again. Fellas, if that happens, don't crank your pickups for at least a week. Quietly leave Tuscaloosa, enroll at Tennessee under the names of "Da'Rick Rogers" and "Tyler Bray" and hope for the best.)
2) The remainder of the bowl season is a huge snoozefest. I mean, honestly....35 bowls? Florida (6-6) vs. Ohio State (6-6)? Rutgers vs. Iowa State in the New Era Pinstripe Bowl? Earlier this year, when Iowa State beat Oklahoma State, I saw something I just knew I'd never see. On Facebook, it said "15 of your friends have mentioned Iowa State University." There is a first time for everthang (everything), I guess. (thank you, Little Texas, underrated band if you ask me)
3) There is a bowl called the San Diego County Credit Union Poinsettia Bowl. No, really, TCU and Louisiana Tech are playing in it. Does the MVP win a repossessed Dodge Caravan? Hell, if they wanna go that far, I got one for you: The Bartow County Sudafed Copper Tubing Meth Bowl. Let's get Auburn and Tennessee to play it, let's say in Adairsville.....that's about halfway for both and their fans would just love it. We'll get Kenny Chesney to perform at halftime and 30 smacked out chicks from the trailer park to just walk around as "dancers." Cha-ching.
4) Florida, Florida State, and Miami all finished outside of the BCS Top 25 for the year. Only FSU cracked the AP Top 25 (at #25, no less). I can only think of three things that are more surprising than this: 1) Pollo Loco restaurants that stay open longer than 6 months; 2) It took the media more than 6 months to destroy Herman Cain and 3) The Atlanta Hawks are not entertaining offering Dwight Howard (to which I face plant into a hot plate of lasagna......ugghhhhhh. We need a freakin' center.)
5) The Green Bay Packers have a date with destiny. Watch out 1972 Dolphins, the champagne may remain on ice this year. Their schedule is favorable. The comeback last Sunday was a thing of beauty, thanks to Aaron Rodgers and their very own inexplicable phenomena....Jordy Nelson.
**Sidenote: Congratulations to me for doing a football segment with Al Pacino quotes, using all 3 Godfathers and NOT referring to "Any Given Sunday" once.
I'm not being a sore loser, or fairweathered. I'm a Dawg for life. LSU is without question the most talented team we've seen since Alabama in 2008 or Florida in 2009. It was just unsettling to see such a game, with our recent surge and ever-growing hope. This recap is brought to you by Wild Turkey, Carlotta wine (thank you Dave Grega) and Al Pacino. Why Al? Because nobody can punctuate anger, frustration, and all-out "I'm gonna cut your Achilles with a butter knife" fury like Al can.
Honestly, I expected LSU to win. Even with the halftime lead, I just felt as if a tidal wave was about to hit us. The drops by the receivers, the punt return by Honey Badger, the blown opportunities....mistakes that would matter little against Kentucky and Vandy...they made all the difference against this group of Swamp Kitties. I will not retiterate those plays, I simply cannot. My sanity will not allow it. If I recanted those events here, I am liable to take a flamethrower to this place (+1 for Scent of a Woman reference) I will not describe my utter disgust when Aaron Murray's perfect pass was completely missed by Tavarres King. I simply refuse to spell out my "kick a hole in the wall" disbelief when Malcolm Mitchell dropped a sure touchdown on the five yard line. I will not do it. Never will I paint the picture of yours truly on his knees, aghast, watching Honey Badger weave his way to a "score" on the first punt return of the game. Les Miles grinned, ate a clump of grass and said, "say hello to my little friend." (+1 for Scarface reference) Why we kicked to that man, I have no idea. It's one of those inexplicable phenomena, like voluntary non-alumni Georgia Tech fans, decaf coffee, sugar free pecan pie, the 55 MPH speed limit on I-285 and the Honda Element.
If football is a game of inches, it has never been more true than on that particular play. In case you were wondering, Honey Badger flipped the ball to the referee before he crossed the goal line. It was evident from all angles. Unfortunately, said referee was too busy signaling a touchdown on the five yard line to notice. The upstairs guys were too busy cashing their checks from the BCS to review it. Verne and Gary replayed it 73 times, complete with unabashed adoration for all things LSU, and then conceded that he did not score. I bet that hurt. I'm sure that Les Miles called up there at halftime and said, "Verne, Gary, you're the second best announcing team on CBS and I love you, but don't take sides against the family with anyone, ever again." (+1 for Godfather 2 reference) And our coaches, well, I guess they were too busy coddling Crowell to see it. Isaiah has really let the entire Dawgnation down lately and nothing was worse than watching him milk his ankle/leg/foot injury all game long. He came out of the first series with such a pronounced limp, I thought he was done for sure. Then, as if the healing power of God graced his tibia, fibula and metatarsals, he would make a cut and dash for 10 yards, then disappear for another 10 minutes. It was another inexplicable phenomena, like tanning salons in Florida, Larry the Cable Guy's popularity with anyone over age 14 and the 2011 Indianapolis Colts.
It's not like the entire game was bad. Our defense was stellar in the first half. LSU had zero first downs, Jordan Jefferson looked like George Jefferson throwing the ball, and their running game was nonexistent. We made them one-dimensional. Unfortunately, so were we. Our special teams and offense (except Orson Charles, Ben Jones and Aron White) decided to play their worst games since Vanderbilt and Kentucky, respectively. We won those games, because neither of those teams even compare to LSU. The only things that LSU has in common with Vandy/Kentucky: 1) They are in the SEC; 2) They have a football team; 3) They are universities in the United States. That's it. Not one player on Vandy/Kentucky would be on the two-deep at LSU, with the exception of Danny Trevathan (UK's linebacker).
The second half was.....abhorrent. Wild Turkey flowed. I looked at my Dad at one point and said, "This is like a bad Twilight Zone. I think I'm growing a tumor." (+1 for Tommy Boy reference) I cannot think of one positive thing that occurred in the second half, with the exception of the clock hitting 0:00. Aaron Murray had the worst game of this season, not entirely his fault, as he was flushed from the pocket repeatedly. Carlton Thomas was eaten like crawfish etoufee by Barkevious Mingo. Crowell was AWOL. "Has anyone seen Scanners?" I remarked. (+1 for another Tommy Boy reference) I saw Crowell angrily walking away from Coach Richt while Coach was trying to speak to him, another low moment of the evening. It was then, I looked toward Athens and said "I do renounce him." (+1 for Godfather reference) The defense, after being called upon to defend our goal constantly, finally wore out. The glad tidings of the first half disappeared quickly, doing us no better than eating large quantities of chocolate. (+1 for Devil's Advocate reference) Not to mention, we punt out of our own end zone in the 3rd quarter, right to Honey Badger. He bobs and weaves his way to our 17 yard line. Call us "X-Files" because..... you guessed it, more inexplicable phenomena...like the purpose of the IRS, pillowed outdoor furniture, convertible PT Cruisers and the relevance of the SAT.
Omens abounded this week. I should have known not to get my hopes up. First, my tickets for the game fell through. The guy I bought them from mailed them from Alabama via US Mail and they never arrived. My dog pooped in her crate for the first time in weeks. I had a bad cup of coffee at Starbucks. The Dawgvent was completely negative with news about Crowell's apparent temper tantrum at practice. I didn't eat Waffle House (a gameday tradition) early Saturday morning. My work week was terrible, proving that the human race can indeed find new ways to suck the life right out of me. Seriously, has anyone seen Scanners? When Claiborne pick-sixed Murray to make it 42-10, I swallowed a glass of Wild Turkey and went outside. I could not watch the SEC championship go down in flames, so I decided to look at the pasture instead. I could not watch the LSU players laugh and cut up at our expense. In a metaphoric moment, I realized that this loss would be forgotten, wiped away as clean as this empty field, and guys like Jarvis Jones, Garrison Smith, John Jenkins, Richard Samuel, Alec Ogletree, Kenarious Gates, Aaron Murray, and Shawn Williams would grow from this loss. We will likely be highly ranked next season, guys who are hurt will be healthy again, and our schedule is favorable. You truly can't win 'em all.....unless you are LSU.
So, now we head to the Outback Bowl against Michigan State. I speak for the majority of the Dawgnation when I say, "Ugh." Been there, done that. This is like getting a great bottle of wine and then while opening it, the damn cork falls in. We have only ourselves to blame for this lackluster bowl, but we still need to win it. We need to win 11 games, we need to finish on a high note and we need to represent our conference well. I think we will do so. Losing to a Big Ten school is like getting sucker punched by a midget, you get knocked out and it goes viral on Youtube. It simply cannot happen. Although I was severely depressed by this recent loss, I am still so proud of the football team. Jarvis and Orson made 1st Team All-America. Recruiting is picking up. It's looking like contract extensions for Richt and Grantham. We defeated Auburn, Tennessee, Florida and Tech all in one season. I guess I'll let Al sum it all up for me.....
"Just when I thought I was out, they pull me right back in." (+1 for Godfather 3 reference) Go Dawgs.
Other Highlights:
1) LSU vs. Alabama for the National Title. Regardless of how they arrived at this conclusion, it's the right one. Still, there should be a playoff and based on what I've seen, these two would seal club everyone else in said playoff. I predict another bloodletting and this time, I think the Tide comes out on top, 12-10. (unless Cade Foster and Shelley screw it up again. Fellas, if that happens, don't crank your pickups for at least a week. Quietly leave Tuscaloosa, enroll at Tennessee under the names of "Da'Rick Rogers" and "Tyler Bray" and hope for the best.)
2) The remainder of the bowl season is a huge snoozefest. I mean, honestly....35 bowls? Florida (6-6) vs. Ohio State (6-6)? Rutgers vs. Iowa State in the New Era Pinstripe Bowl? Earlier this year, when Iowa State beat Oklahoma State, I saw something I just knew I'd never see. On Facebook, it said "15 of your friends have mentioned Iowa State University." There is a first time for everthang (everything), I guess. (thank you, Little Texas, underrated band if you ask me)
3) There is a bowl called the San Diego County Credit Union Poinsettia Bowl. No, really, TCU and Louisiana Tech are playing in it. Does the MVP win a repossessed Dodge Caravan? Hell, if they wanna go that far, I got one for you: The Bartow County Sudafed Copper Tubing Meth Bowl. Let's get Auburn and Tennessee to play it, let's say in Adairsville.....that's about halfway for both and their fans would just love it. We'll get Kenny Chesney to perform at halftime and 30 smacked out chicks from the trailer park to just walk around as "dancers." Cha-ching.
4) Florida, Florida State, and Miami all finished outside of the BCS Top 25 for the year. Only FSU cracked the AP Top 25 (at #25, no less). I can only think of three things that are more surprising than this: 1) Pollo Loco restaurants that stay open longer than 6 months; 2) It took the media more than 6 months to destroy Herman Cain and 3) The Atlanta Hawks are not entertaining offering Dwight Howard (to which I face plant into a hot plate of lasagna......ugghhhhhh. We need a freakin' center.)
5) The Green Bay Packers have a date with destiny. Watch out 1972 Dolphins, the champagne may remain on ice this year. Their schedule is favorable. The comeback last Sunday was a thing of beauty, thanks to Aaron Rodgers and their very own inexplicable phenomena....Jordy Nelson.
**Sidenote: Congratulations to me for doing a football segment with Al Pacino quotes, using all 3 Godfathers and NOT referring to "Any Given Sunday" once.
Saturday, December 3, 2011
Today is the Day....Dawgpiles or Depression....Bring on LSU
Well, here we are. The SEC Championship and lo and behold, the Dawgs are playing for it. If you told me this would happen after the Boise State game, I would have told you to have another drink and hit the Clairmont Lounge as soon as possible. I could not be prouder of the guys and the coaches for pulling through after starting out so badly. No matter how today goes, I will still hold my head high as an alumnus and a fan of the University of Georgia.
If by some miracle we come away victorious, we head to the Sugar Bowl for the fourth time in nine years. If we lose, we probably end up in the Outback or Capital One against a Big Ten opponent (snore). Personally, I hope the Cotton Bowl takes us and we end up playing Oklahoma. I respect Oklahoma's history and would love to see that matchup. It would be much better than yet another matchup with Wisconsin or Michigan State, where we will win by two touchdowns, prove nothing and only yearn for 2012.
Notice how I say "we" when I talk about the Dawgs? A Tech fan last week told me he did not understand this. "I just call them the Jackets, it's not like your out there playing or anything," with the usual Tech inferiority complex/smartass tone. He was born and raised in Ohio. "You'll never understand it. Don't bother trying. Now give me your lunch money." I replied. It's a conference thing, one that permeates throughout the SEC. We get behind our teams so much that you almost feel like a part of it. I say "we" without thinking, it just comes naturally. I know the heights, weights, high schools, and stats for every scholarship player on the roster. I don't try to remember, I just do because I care about my team and alma mater, maybe more than I should. Georgia games have produced some of the highest of highs and the lowest of lows for me.
For example:
2001 UGA vs. South Carolina: We lose to an inferior opponent at home, 14-9. Terrence Edwards drops a sure touchdown in the end zone to win the game. My buzz is completely destroyed and I tell my date that I don't want to go out anymore. I drive to Ace Hardware, get a bottle of muriatic acid and aluminum foil, and spend the next three hours filling plastic bottles with the latter two ingredients and exploding them in the front yard. (FYI: the acid eats the foil, creates a gas that expands the bottle and it explodes loudly, like a gunshot. It's quite fun, until the cops get there.) This was moping at its finest. If we had won, downtown Athens would have been $100 richer and Ace Hardware would still have that muriatic acid. (The cops thought it was hilarious, they were depressed too. I got a warning.)
Conversely......
2001 UGA vs. Tenneseee: We go up to Knoxvegas and win on the famous "Hobnailed Boot" play with 6 seconds left. Two minutes before that play, Travis Stephens had taken a Casey "One Arm Behind My Back" Clausen pass to the house, ostensibly beating us yet again. I was so deflated. Tennessee squibbed the kickoff and we recovered with good field position. Then David Greene and Randy McMichael did work, son. Three impossible first down later, we are on the six yard line. Randy was possessed by the spirit of Mike Ditka on that drive. Have you ever watched Ditka's game film when he played? He was a chaotic, angry train of pain that destroyed defenders. Randy, of Peach County, Georgia, was no peach on this day. We gather ourselves on the six, call P-44 Haynes and Greene finds Verron in the back of the end zone, uncovered. That was the first victory in Knoxville since the 1980's. I was on my knees, fists raised and giving my best Ric Flair "woooooooooo!" Then the room got quiet and I hear a stampede coming my way. Four of my best friends, fueled by excitement (and Bud Light in the old gray can with blue writing) dogpiled me in the floor. The last thing I remember seeing an unshaven J. Brock and John Taylor launch themselves in the air with every intention of crushing me. It hurt, but I did not care.I called my parents, said something in Sanskrit that they could not understand, and piled into a 1997 Jeep with twelve other people and went out. The night downtown was epic. It was elevated to legendary when the football team, who instantly got on the bus in Knoxville and drove home, actually came out to the bars. I "cabbage patched" to "The Message" by Grandmaster Flash with the entire secondary. I hugged Boss Bailey and told him I loved him. What a night.
I'm thankful for those memories, both bad and good. It's like saying that "Fool In The Rain" is my least favorite Led Zeppelin song. It is indeed my least favorite Zeppelin song, but that does not mean it's a bad song. Georgia football seasons are like that for me and most other diehards. We would just assume go 0-11 and be Dawgs for life, than to jump off the bandwagon and not care anymore, or worse yet, switch to another team. That is the protocol for fringe fans who don't really care or hicks who only pull for winners so they can run their mouth. My Alabama friends often lament their fringe fanbase. Alabama has a giant following in Georgia right now, there are more cursive "A's" on cars in Atlanta than ever before, and they ain't Braves fans. Interestingly enough, six years ago, you could not find one of those unless it was an alumnus or lifelong fan. They know nothing of Alabama. They couldn't get to Tuscaloosa if their life depended on it. They don't know of Johnny Musso, the Goal Line Stand in 1979, Jerry Duncan, or why the Third Saturday in October matters. That is just beyond me.
Tonight, the Dawgs have a chance to make a new memory. It may really blow up in our face. LSU is beyond good, they have almost no weaknesses and dismantled every opponent other than Alabama and a sloppy game against Mississippi State. They will probably play for the national championship, as they should. However, we may come out, fired up and tired of the talk and beat these guys like rented mules. It happened in 2005 when we won the SEC last. We were ranked #13 and LSU was #3, the game was a foregone conclusion and LSU was supposed to kill us. Jamarcus Russell had been on fire all year. DJ Shockley and Sean Bailey annihilated their secondary, Jeff Owens knocked Russell out of the game on a brutal sack and Tim Jennings punctuated the victory with a pick six to make it 34-14. As that erudite philosopher Herm Edwards once put it, "you play to win the game!" The Dawgs will play to win. All the fringe bandwagon morons stay home, please. If things don't go well, I don't want to hear your whining.
If we do win, and LSU still faces Alabama in the BCS Championship, then you will hear the loudest clamoring for a playoff than you've ever heard since the BCS was created. It will be another BCS failure, even though I think LSU and Bama ARE the best two teams and should be there. Auburn got burned in 2004. We got burned, along with USC, in 2007. Ohio State has been embarrassed twice, undeserving of a title shot in the second game, if you ask me. The rules seem to change yearly, even though this is supposedly decided by an impartial computer. A playoff would remove all doubt. Conference championships be damned, just tee up it in the four corners of the USA, and let the two survivors duke it out at a neutral site. No other sport adheres to this BCS nonsense and neither should Division 1 college football. In any event, "we" Dawgs will tee it up every season and hope that we get our fair shot someday. When that day comes, I'll either get dogpiled or be making muriatic acid bombs, but I'll be a Dawg regardless.
If by some miracle we come away victorious, we head to the Sugar Bowl for the fourth time in nine years. If we lose, we probably end up in the Outback or Capital One against a Big Ten opponent (snore). Personally, I hope the Cotton Bowl takes us and we end up playing Oklahoma. I respect Oklahoma's history and would love to see that matchup. It would be much better than yet another matchup with Wisconsin or Michigan State, where we will win by two touchdowns, prove nothing and only yearn for 2012.
Notice how I say "we" when I talk about the Dawgs? A Tech fan last week told me he did not understand this. "I just call them the Jackets, it's not like your out there playing or anything," with the usual Tech inferiority complex/smartass tone. He was born and raised in Ohio. "You'll never understand it. Don't bother trying. Now give me your lunch money." I replied. It's a conference thing, one that permeates throughout the SEC. We get behind our teams so much that you almost feel like a part of it. I say "we" without thinking, it just comes naturally. I know the heights, weights, high schools, and stats for every scholarship player on the roster. I don't try to remember, I just do because I care about my team and alma mater, maybe more than I should. Georgia games have produced some of the highest of highs and the lowest of lows for me.
For example:
2001 UGA vs. South Carolina: We lose to an inferior opponent at home, 14-9. Terrence Edwards drops a sure touchdown in the end zone to win the game. My buzz is completely destroyed and I tell my date that I don't want to go out anymore. I drive to Ace Hardware, get a bottle of muriatic acid and aluminum foil, and spend the next three hours filling plastic bottles with the latter two ingredients and exploding them in the front yard. (FYI: the acid eats the foil, creates a gas that expands the bottle and it explodes loudly, like a gunshot. It's quite fun, until the cops get there.) This was moping at its finest. If we had won, downtown Athens would have been $100 richer and Ace Hardware would still have that muriatic acid. (The cops thought it was hilarious, they were depressed too. I got a warning.)
Conversely......
2001 UGA vs. Tenneseee: We go up to Knoxvegas and win on the famous "Hobnailed Boot" play with 6 seconds left. Two minutes before that play, Travis Stephens had taken a Casey "One Arm Behind My Back" Clausen pass to the house, ostensibly beating us yet again. I was so deflated. Tennessee squibbed the kickoff and we recovered with good field position. Then David Greene and Randy McMichael did work, son. Three impossible first down later, we are on the six yard line. Randy was possessed by the spirit of Mike Ditka on that drive. Have you ever watched Ditka's game film when he played? He was a chaotic, angry train of pain that destroyed defenders. Randy, of Peach County, Georgia, was no peach on this day. We gather ourselves on the six, call P-44 Haynes and Greene finds Verron in the back of the end zone, uncovered. That was the first victory in Knoxville since the 1980's. I was on my knees, fists raised and giving my best Ric Flair "woooooooooo!" Then the room got quiet and I hear a stampede coming my way. Four of my best friends, fueled by excitement (and Bud Light in the old gray can with blue writing) dogpiled me in the floor. The last thing I remember seeing an unshaven J. Brock and John Taylor launch themselves in the air with every intention of crushing me. It hurt, but I did not care.I called my parents, said something in Sanskrit that they could not understand, and piled into a 1997 Jeep with twelve other people and went out. The night downtown was epic. It was elevated to legendary when the football team, who instantly got on the bus in Knoxville and drove home, actually came out to the bars. I "cabbage patched" to "The Message" by Grandmaster Flash with the entire secondary. I hugged Boss Bailey and told him I loved him. What a night.
I'm thankful for those memories, both bad and good. It's like saying that "Fool In The Rain" is my least favorite Led Zeppelin song. It is indeed my least favorite Zeppelin song, but that does not mean it's a bad song. Georgia football seasons are like that for me and most other diehards. We would just assume go 0-11 and be Dawgs for life, than to jump off the bandwagon and not care anymore, or worse yet, switch to another team. That is the protocol for fringe fans who don't really care or hicks who only pull for winners so they can run their mouth. My Alabama friends often lament their fringe fanbase. Alabama has a giant following in Georgia right now, there are more cursive "A's" on cars in Atlanta than ever before, and they ain't Braves fans. Interestingly enough, six years ago, you could not find one of those unless it was an alumnus or lifelong fan. They know nothing of Alabama. They couldn't get to Tuscaloosa if their life depended on it. They don't know of Johnny Musso, the Goal Line Stand in 1979, Jerry Duncan, or why the Third Saturday in October matters. That is just beyond me.
Tonight, the Dawgs have a chance to make a new memory. It may really blow up in our face. LSU is beyond good, they have almost no weaknesses and dismantled every opponent other than Alabama and a sloppy game against Mississippi State. They will probably play for the national championship, as they should. However, we may come out, fired up and tired of the talk and beat these guys like rented mules. It happened in 2005 when we won the SEC last. We were ranked #13 and LSU was #3, the game was a foregone conclusion and LSU was supposed to kill us. Jamarcus Russell had been on fire all year. DJ Shockley and Sean Bailey annihilated their secondary, Jeff Owens knocked Russell out of the game on a brutal sack and Tim Jennings punctuated the victory with a pick six to make it 34-14. As that erudite philosopher Herm Edwards once put it, "you play to win the game!" The Dawgs will play to win. All the fringe bandwagon morons stay home, please. If things don't go well, I don't want to hear your whining.
If we do win, and LSU still faces Alabama in the BCS Championship, then you will hear the loudest clamoring for a playoff than you've ever heard since the BCS was created. It will be another BCS failure, even though I think LSU and Bama ARE the best two teams and should be there. Auburn got burned in 2004. We got burned, along with USC, in 2007. Ohio State has been embarrassed twice, undeserving of a title shot in the second game, if you ask me. The rules seem to change yearly, even though this is supposedly decided by an impartial computer. A playoff would remove all doubt. Conference championships be damned, just tee up it in the four corners of the USA, and let the two survivors duke it out at a neutral site. No other sport adheres to this BCS nonsense and neither should Division 1 college football. In any event, "we" Dawgs will tee it up every season and hope that we get our fair shot someday. When that day comes, I'll either get dogpiled or be making muriatic acid bombs, but I'll be a Dawg regardless.
Friday, December 2, 2011
Black Friday Night Lights....or I'm sitting the bench on this one
So, it's been a week since Black Friday, and still... we are talking about the day that I have come to loathe almost as much as fat free cheese, Georgia Tech, Georgia 400 at 5:30 PM and Nextel phones. Mostly because in Cartersville, Georgia, somebody decided to plant syringes in clothing all throughout Wal-Mart, pricking the fingers of several customers, causing a panic and aftermath similar to a tornado survival. Cue the interviews with the Harvard honor graduates....complete with oversized "Gatlinburg 1984" t-shirts, bedroom shoes and three rugrats with permanent Kool-Aid mustaches. I've never hidden my utter disdain for Wal-Mart and this event just magnifies Wal-Mart's imminent threat to all that is good and decent in this world. I could not imagine waiting in line to get into a Wal-Mart on Black Friday.
"Hey Bobbie, if y'all get in before me, y'all grab as many Kenny Chesney CD's as you can. I'm gonna be at the clothes, they havin' a buy one, get one on Rusty Wallace t-shirts!"
"Oh girl, you ain't serious?! Shane would just luuuuuuv one of them thangs (things)! Get him a double X if you can, he's put on a few pounds since he got carpal tunnel and cain't (can't) work no more. Cody! Raymond! Y'all quit fightin ovair (over there)"
Shoot me, please.
Oh, by the way, the syringe thing, it was national news too. Yahoo had a story on it. You cannot imagine the thrill for yours truly to see Bartow County in the news again.....tornadoes and needles. It sounds like a bad country song. Let's get Kenny Chesney to sing it:
Needles and Tornaders,
Bleedin' fingers and ruined 'maters,
My roof is in the trees,
Now, I'm getting tested for Hepatitis C
Oh, Needles and Tomaters....
Thanks a lot, 2011.
There was also a free-for-all fistfight at the Ellijay Wal-Mart, simply because it opened and too many people wanted in. Honestly, I cannot think of a better reason to risk my personal freedom than to slug another man over a 72" Sanyo Television. Seriously, that 65" Panasonic was getting old anyway and Dwayne, Jr was having a hard time playing his Playstation and getting fatter on that smaller screen. That extra seven inches.....problem solved. This was also national news, complete with a video. A cell phone display case was tossed into the crowd. About 50 people broke out their Iphones and recorded the melee, hence the video availability. I watched the crowd more than the fight, for a couple of reasons: 1) trying to find the fat lady in the housecoat, who will undoubtedly interviewed; 2) the number of Dale Earnhardt/Dale Earnhardt, Jr. hats; and 3) any and all airbrushed t-shirts. The first one was too easy, there were several possible interviewees near the fight, all field dressing at about 250 and dressed in their nicest ankle-length mumu. I couldn't tell if anyone had an airbrushed t-shirt on BUT it's north Georgia....I'd bet a bottle of STP "Son of a Gun" there were at least 25 people sporting their pride in Panama City and Gatlinburg or wolves howling over a canyon with a Rebel flag in the background. Much to my chagrin, I saw one too many Georgia hats, most of the wearers giggling like schoolchildren that just pulled the fire alarm. Ugh, thanks again, 2011.
I wish we had participated in Black Friday at Cass Grocery. We never did. We opened at 6:00 AM and closed at 8:00 PM, every Black Friday for 26 years. My Dad never woke me up at 2 AM and said, "Good God, son, we gotta get up to the store, the line of people waiting on us is down Jo-Ree Road and almost to 41. Get those Orange County Choppers t-shirts ready....we're going 2 for 1!" Nope. It would have been chaos.
First of all, I would have definitely encouraged a sale on Natural Light and Olde English 800, which would have been a mistake. You wanna talk about fights? A brawl next to the beer cooler would result in crushed FunYuns, possible busted Orange Fanta 2-liter bottles and the loss of irreplaceable discount cigarettes. Seriously, how am I gonna explain to Wanda that her GPC Menthol Light 100's were mashed under Daryl's foot when he punched Joel in the face for taking the last six pack? It cannot be done and she can't smoke Newports (because they taste bad, not because they're $5.50). Priorities, dammit.
Secondly, we sold t-shirts. Lots of them. Dixie Outfitters, Orange County Choppers, NASCAR, football, fishing, Harley-Davidson.....we were the Nordstrom of north central Bartow County. The only difference is that our fitting room (aka the restroom) weren't quite as nice and honestly, most men (and some women) just tried it on right there in the parking lot. We would have been cleaned out in seconds if we had a Black Friday sale. How could anyone turn down a buy one, get one free of a "Dale Earnhardt: 1951-2001" with angel wings sprouting from the "D" and the "t" AND a sweet Dixie Outfitters shirt that shrewdly places a Rebel flag around the neck of a bass jumping out of a lake with the statement "Southern Fishin': It Will Lure You In" keenly placed in the water below? You can't resist it.
Then you had the random groceries that would cause problems. All the meth heads would clean me out of Sudafed, copper brushes and Drano. All the guys who hunt deer would annihilate my supply of cracked corn (AND not because they're baiting a field, there's no honor in that.....riiiiiight). All the 18 year old kids that come in and buy rolling papers would have a field day. I love when kids buy rolling papers, they go into the unprompted justifying instantly......
Kid: "My, uh, granddad, uh, still rolls his own cigarettes. These are for him. Yeah, grandad. Rolls. Uh, yeah."
Me: "Yeah, cool. If "grandad "also like Chili Fritos, those are on sale today too."
I'm telling you. Cass Grocery on Black Friday, a study in humanity for the ages.
Honestly though, Black Friday illustrates just how far we will go to get "stuff." It's preposterous. We are obsessed with appearances. When I see the lines at Brandsmart and the Apple Store that are longer than the Talladega Racetrack, it just sheds even more light on us. I never see such lines at Waldenbooks.
For example, have you ever noticed how people buy Hummers and use them to advertise things? I saw a Hummer in Dallas the other day with all this artwork painted on it, indicating the driver was an accountant and will provide you with financial advice and do your taxes. I guess a Hummer is a sign of financial security or maybe power? Some people probably say, "She's got a Hummer? She's got it made."
You know what a Hummer says to me?
"Hi, I have a gas guzzling, unreliable, rolling pile of unnecessary debt that costs me $800 per month, but by God, I can advise you on money.....wait, my radiator just blew." See? Now, what if your accountant drove a 1994 Toyota Corolla with 200,000 miles on it? Would you think less of them? Or maybe they are getting every last cent out of what they have. It may not be a growling, diesel-fueled junior monster truck, but it's good from Point A to Point B. I'll take that guy.
I like stuff. I buy ITunes like it's going out of style. I'd rake any one of your shins for a Starbucks coffee. But I refuse to get caught up in the hoopla of Black Friday, at Wal-Mart or anywhere else. We didn't need it in Cassville and everything was fine.....and our Funyuns, Orange Fanta and cigarettes stayed intact, along with our dignity. And the syringe thing? No problem. You couldn't hide one in a "Jeff Gordon: Rainbow Warrior" T-shirt and our resident users wouldn't waste a good needle on such nonsense....we're economical like that.
"Hey Bobbie, if y'all get in before me, y'all grab as many Kenny Chesney CD's as you can. I'm gonna be at the clothes, they havin' a buy one, get one on Rusty Wallace t-shirts!"
"Oh girl, you ain't serious?! Shane would just luuuuuuv one of them thangs (things)! Get him a double X if you can, he's put on a few pounds since he got carpal tunnel and cain't (can't) work no more. Cody! Raymond! Y'all quit fightin ovair (over there)"
Shoot me, please.
Oh, by the way, the syringe thing, it was national news too. Yahoo had a story on it. You cannot imagine the thrill for yours truly to see Bartow County in the news again.....tornadoes and needles. It sounds like a bad country song. Let's get Kenny Chesney to sing it:
Needles and Tornaders,
Bleedin' fingers and ruined 'maters,
My roof is in the trees,
Now, I'm getting tested for Hepatitis C
Oh, Needles and Tomaters....
Thanks a lot, 2011.
There was also a free-for-all fistfight at the Ellijay Wal-Mart, simply because it opened and too many people wanted in. Honestly, I cannot think of a better reason to risk my personal freedom than to slug another man over a 72" Sanyo Television. Seriously, that 65" Panasonic was getting old anyway and Dwayne, Jr was having a hard time playing his Playstation and getting fatter on that smaller screen. That extra seven inches.....problem solved. This was also national news, complete with a video. A cell phone display case was tossed into the crowd. About 50 people broke out their Iphones and recorded the melee, hence the video availability. I watched the crowd more than the fight, for a couple of reasons: 1) trying to find the fat lady in the housecoat, who will undoubtedly interviewed; 2) the number of Dale Earnhardt/Dale Earnhardt, Jr. hats; and 3) any and all airbrushed t-shirts. The first one was too easy, there were several possible interviewees near the fight, all field dressing at about 250 and dressed in their nicest ankle-length mumu. I couldn't tell if anyone had an airbrushed t-shirt on BUT it's north Georgia....I'd bet a bottle of STP "Son of a Gun" there were at least 25 people sporting their pride in Panama City and Gatlinburg or wolves howling over a canyon with a Rebel flag in the background. Much to my chagrin, I saw one too many Georgia hats, most of the wearers giggling like schoolchildren that just pulled the fire alarm. Ugh, thanks again, 2011.
I wish we had participated in Black Friday at Cass Grocery. We never did. We opened at 6:00 AM and closed at 8:00 PM, every Black Friday for 26 years. My Dad never woke me up at 2 AM and said, "Good God, son, we gotta get up to the store, the line of people waiting on us is down Jo-Ree Road and almost to 41. Get those Orange County Choppers t-shirts ready....we're going 2 for 1!" Nope. It would have been chaos.
First of all, I would have definitely encouraged a sale on Natural Light and Olde English 800, which would have been a mistake. You wanna talk about fights? A brawl next to the beer cooler would result in crushed FunYuns, possible busted Orange Fanta 2-liter bottles and the loss of irreplaceable discount cigarettes. Seriously, how am I gonna explain to Wanda that her GPC Menthol Light 100's were mashed under Daryl's foot when he punched Joel in the face for taking the last six pack? It cannot be done and she can't smoke Newports (because they taste bad, not because they're $5.50). Priorities, dammit.
Secondly, we sold t-shirts. Lots of them. Dixie Outfitters, Orange County Choppers, NASCAR, football, fishing, Harley-Davidson.....we were the Nordstrom of north central Bartow County. The only difference is that our fitting room (aka the restroom) weren't quite as nice and honestly, most men (and some women) just tried it on right there in the parking lot. We would have been cleaned out in seconds if we had a Black Friday sale. How could anyone turn down a buy one, get one free of a "Dale Earnhardt: 1951-2001" with angel wings sprouting from the "D" and the "t" AND a sweet Dixie Outfitters shirt that shrewdly places a Rebel flag around the neck of a bass jumping out of a lake with the statement "Southern Fishin': It Will Lure You In" keenly placed in the water below? You can't resist it.
Then you had the random groceries that would cause problems. All the meth heads would clean me out of Sudafed, copper brushes and Drano. All the guys who hunt deer would annihilate my supply of cracked corn (AND not because they're baiting a field, there's no honor in that.....riiiiiight). All the 18 year old kids that come in and buy rolling papers would have a field day. I love when kids buy rolling papers, they go into the unprompted justifying instantly......
Kid: "My, uh, granddad, uh, still rolls his own cigarettes. These are for him. Yeah, grandad. Rolls. Uh, yeah."
Me: "Yeah, cool. If "grandad "also like Chili Fritos, those are on sale today too."
I'm telling you. Cass Grocery on Black Friday, a study in humanity for the ages.
Honestly though, Black Friday illustrates just how far we will go to get "stuff." It's preposterous. We are obsessed with appearances. When I see the lines at Brandsmart and the Apple Store that are longer than the Talladega Racetrack, it just sheds even more light on us. I never see such lines at Waldenbooks.
For example, have you ever noticed how people buy Hummers and use them to advertise things? I saw a Hummer in Dallas the other day with all this artwork painted on it, indicating the driver was an accountant and will provide you with financial advice and do your taxes. I guess a Hummer is a sign of financial security or maybe power? Some people probably say, "She's got a Hummer? She's got it made."
You know what a Hummer says to me?
"Hi, I have a gas guzzling, unreliable, rolling pile of unnecessary debt that costs me $800 per month, but by God, I can advise you on money.....wait, my radiator just blew." See? Now, what if your accountant drove a 1994 Toyota Corolla with 200,000 miles on it? Would you think less of them? Or maybe they are getting every last cent out of what they have. It may not be a growling, diesel-fueled junior monster truck, but it's good from Point A to Point B. I'll take that guy.
I like stuff. I buy ITunes like it's going out of style. I'd rake any one of your shins for a Starbucks coffee. But I refuse to get caught up in the hoopla of Black Friday, at Wal-Mart or anywhere else. We didn't need it in Cassville and everything was fine.....and our Funyuns, Orange Fanta and cigarettes stayed intact, along with our dignity. And the syringe thing? No problem. You couldn't hide one in a "Jeff Gordon: Rainbow Warrior" T-shirt and our resident users wouldn't waste a good needle on such nonsense....we're economical like that.
Sunday, November 27, 2011
Recap of the Weekend...or we renamed North Avenue, it's now called "Larry Munson Boulevard"
Do Your Best John Lennon and Imagine....
Imagine you're a Tech fan, for a second. (a second is about all you can tolerate anyway.) You get up on gameday, you check the mail to see if the new BluRay edition of "Star Trek: The Next Generation" has arrived (you ordered it because it's got some awesome deleted scenes), and you practice speaking Klingon in the mirror as you shave for the fifth time in your life. You pack up your Prius with pita chips, your PS3 and a sixer of Zima (because you're rowdy like that) and head to the tailgating spot next to all the other gnats. A line of yellow-clad, half-cocked fools trickles onto Tech's campus, like a river of urine running through a trash dump. You gulp your first Zima. Whew, that goes down hard every time. You get your CD collection out, looking for "Georgia Tech's Greatest Calls: Volume 2" to blare over your Prius speakers. You gotta show them Dawgs who's boss. Alas, there is no such thing. In fact, there is no "Volume 1" either. So you settle for Katy Perry. Zima #2 goes down so smooth. The Buzz kicks in, you are feeling it, "We may beat Georgia today!" Your girlfriend arrives, with what appears to be three other females, causing a riot. Three pairs of glasses, a bottle of Alize and a TI-83 calculator are destroyed in the tickle pile.
"What are these long haired beings? Can they play World of Warcraft? What did they get in Physics?"
You give the girls your other four Zimas. You're wrecked at this point anyway. Katy is absolutely belting out a solo, the sun is rising over the "Andrei Amadeus Karalovsky Biomedical & Metaphysical Sciences Center for Abstract Research" and nobody got carjacked in your parking lot last night...life is good. The long haired beings, now determined to be "girls" after Jugdish, Mohammet and Lonnie did some research (+1 for Animal House reference), destroy the Zimas.
Wait for it....
A sea of red washes over the campus suddenly. Pickup trucks, blaring everything from Lil Wayne to Willie Nelson, take over the parking lot. They pull out this foreign substance, determined to be "beer" after, you guessed it, Jugdish, Mohammet and Lonnie analyzed it in the lab. They all appear to be having a great time, and don't appear to give a damn about Star Trek. Hillbillies. Rednecks. Thugs. That's what they are. You try to muster up a "To Hell With Georgia" but you're too worried that lifelong Dawg fan, Billy Ray "Junebug" Dawkins from Ocilla, Georgia might eat one of your Prius tires. So you just hush. You will just wait until kickoff, when the stadium is full of Tech people (all 35,000 of them) and you have some back up......oh wait......(to be continued)
The Game
So, we enter this week on a nine game win streak, to be put to the final regular season test before we meet LSU in the Dome. Standing in our way is the vaunted, high school offense-minded, top ten-turned-spoiler Georgia Tech Yellow Jackets. I looked up "irrelevant" in the dictionary, and after sorting through the various meanings of the word (Big Ten football, Lane Kiffin recruiting in Tennessee and Charlie Weis's next crash diet) I found Georgia Tech. It then referred me to the definition of Georgia Tech:
Georgia Tech
\Jorj-a Tek\
Noun
1: A four year collegiate institution located in Atlanta, Georgia. Famous for engineering school, Joe Hamilton's reading prowess, a coach that looks like a character from Return of the Jedi and drinking Zima.
2: Pays rent to the President of the University of Georgia in order to remain in Georgia
3: Cannot and will not schedule Georgia Southern, for fear of the unspeakable happening, which is solidifying the fact that Georgia Tech is actually the third best football program in the state.
I sifted through more definitions, like "loser," "inadequate," and "unabashed inadequate loser" but then I got bored. We had a game to play. Plus, during a tribute to Larry Munson organized by the Tech administration, the Tech fanbase booed and showed their classless side, which is par for the course in Atlanta (along with Zima, being irrelevant, and losing)
We kickoff to them and we stop the triple option cold on the first drive. Their QB, Washington (I don't give Techmites the luxury of first names), could not hit the broad side of a Prius with the ball and Jones and Sims did not have much luck running it. Punt to Brandon Boykin, who did not call for a fair catch and was downed at the 10. Out trots our offense, and I pucker up tigher than the Tech student body in anticipation of whether the SciFi channel will indeed do a "Stargate" marathon this weekend. Murray had a terrible game last week and I hoped that it was only a blip on the radar, that he was only looking ahead and not slumping on us. The first drive started off well, with Murray hitting receivers in stride. Then, as Justin Anderson throws a look out block (that's when an O-lineman loses his man and shouts to the QB, "look out!"), Tech forces a bad throw and they intercept on their own 27. Ugh. I feel my temperature rising. We cannot lose today. I equate a loss to Tech with a root canal, drinking Pepsi or eating Huddle House on purpose and fat free cheese....pain, sacrilege and foulness all rolled into one miserable ball. A ball that is then kicked down a staircase covered in broken glass and falls into a room that has a Nickelback CD on repeat along with three rednecks talking loudly on a Nextel about sprinkler pipe. Yes.....Hell....that is what I'm talking about. Ask Jim Donnan.
Tech does nothing with the turnover. This is a pattern for them. We get the ball back and Murray marches us down the field, capping a long drive with a 15 yard touchdown to Michael "Mighty Whitey" Bennett. This guy is worth his weight in Waffle House hashbrowns (a.k.a. gold). Bennett, King, Mitchell, Conley and Brown have been phenomenal all year. After losing AJ Green, I had no aspirations for this season at wide receiver, but these guys have flat stepped up. (there's "flat" again. Tech flat sucks. See? It works.) Coach Tony Ball deserves a boatload of credit. Tech gets the ball back and organizes a drive that gets them down to our 2 yard line, with a big third down play pending. Washington gets the signal, takes the snap and attempts to bolt to his left. His left guard crashed on John Jenkins, leaving Garrison "G-Unit" Smith unblocked and G-Unit swallows him whole, causing a three yard loss. Apparently, Tech's running back was supposed to pick up Garrison but I guess he got distracted thinking about his Tourism Management final exam. Tech settled for a field goal and we are fired up. Tech plays their fight song and the capacity Tech crowd of 23,000 goes nuts. You would have thought Leonard Nimoy was signing autographs on Bobby Dodd Way. He must have been, considering the empty seats in the Tech student section.
The ball goes back to us and once again, Murray marches us right down the field. Orson Charles had a spectacular day. He pulverized Tech's linebackers and secondary all day, lending creedence to the rumor that yes, we are much, much better than Tech at every facet of the game. The drive was capped by a 14 yard corner throw to Chris "Paulding County's Finest" Conley. Laura and I go crazy. Conley is a favorite of mine, a true child of the red clay, and a Damn Good Dawg. I'm sitting in the Tech season ticket section (because God has a sense of irony) and I'm living it up. 14-3 and the Techmites are already making excuses and taking potshots. (with the exception of the Tech alums to my left and right, they were actually good people)
"Well, at least we aren't hillbillies and LSU is gonna kill you."
"Athens sucks anyway."
"If only we could recruit, have decent coaching, great athletes and attractive females..."
I smile smugly. Bring on the hate. I've learned one lesson in sports: When people stop hating you, you need to start worrying. People hated Miami in the 80's, Florida in the 90's and USC in the 00's. Why? Because they won. A lot. And they let you know it too.
Tech gets the ball and starts at the 20. Our kickoff team has improved immensely since the Vanderbilt and Florida debacles. Tech did nothing on kickoffs. They did orchestrate a good drive and scored a touchdown to narrow the lead to 14-10. Sims broke a couple of tackles and spun into the end zone, causing a Tech uproar that rivaled the day that "Magic: The Gathering" was released to the masses. This touchdown was like getting two wizards and two orcs for one dwarf and an elf on a unicorn....it's a big freakin' deal on North Avenue. My stress level increases somewhat. I hear faint Nickelback songs in my head and the telltale Nextel beeping. Somewhere, across the way, I see the imps from my days at the store, Riverdancing. We gotta win.
It's close to halftime and we drive on them again. Unfortunately, we stall out and have to settle for a field goal. Blair Walsh comes out and warms up his leg, Drew Butler gets down in his holder position. The snap is not so good and Blair kicks it wide left. I stare at the railing in front of me, as Jugdish, Mohammet and Lonnie celebrate beneath me. Somewhere, Billy Ray "Junebug" Dawkins, of Ocilla, Georgia is emptying the rest of his Wild Turkey into his Coca-Cola. He grinds his teeth. "By God, I'd be better off sitting at Willie T's Oil Change and Chicken Fried Chicken back home than watching this crap." Whoa. Wait a second. The refs convene. A discussion ensues and it appears that Paul Johnson had called a timeout prior to the snap. No kick and we reset the ball and get another chance. Have you ever seen a really angry Techmite? I have. It's quite comical, really. Lots of stomping, whining and huffing and puffing.....it sounds like a bunch of sorority chicks that were all told in unison that Daddy was indeed not getting them a 2011 Range Rover. We make the kick. I turn to the Techmite behind me and say, "Isn't that a daisy?" (+1 for Tombstone reference) He gives me a perplexed look, so I say, "Oh, sorry.....um....we just put baby in the corner?" (-1 for Dirty Dancing reference, but that's all I could muster)
Halftime was marked by three things. Number One: Tech whining. Number Two: Tech booing our band. Number Three: The announcer says that Georgia Tech has had more graduates land on the moon that any other institution. This third installment lead to massive cheers. What an accomplishment, since we've gotten so much out of landing on the moon. It's kind of like the Pet Rock of space travel, nobody can really explain its significance or importance. Once again, their irrelevance, like their hypocrisy, knows no bounds. (+1 for Tombstone reference) The booing of the band was a nice touch, I must say. But we're the rednecks, remember?
The third quarter was a picture of UGA dominance over Georgia Tech. "Motel 6" Jenkins and Garrison Smith closed off the middle. Jarvis Jones fried at least three Tech guards with his shoulder gun. Shawn Williams and Mike Gilliard had interceptions. Murray connected with Tavarres King and Aron White to make it 31-10. The O-line stymied Tech's rush and gave Murray all day to throw. Seriously, I could have listened to a live version of "In Memory of Elizabeth Reed" with a guest appearance by Trey Anastasio, playing dobro, with the time Aaron had to find his receivers. Orson Charles hit their safety so hard on one play that all Frosted Oranges at the Varsity suddenly melted. Al Groh, Tech's D coordinator, needs a game ball for this one. I especially liked the six yard cushion for our tallest receivers. Pure genius. They did stop our running game, sans Crowell and Samuel, but it really did not matter. Malcolme had some decent runs but never threatened a long one. The fourth quarter was nothing more than us running out the clock and Tech plugging in their freshman quarterback...Synjyn Days. By God, that man proved two things to me on this day: 1) Tech really has nobody, I mean, they really suck; 2) You can put five consonants together and make a word. Hell, at Tech, anything's possible. Moon landings. Zima buzzes. You name it.
So, that was that. Another shellacking. Richt is 10-1 against Tech. Dooley was 19-6. Hell, Ray Goff only lost to Tech once. This is a rivalry, though...right? Yes. For one simple reason, and the only reason left that justifies me and and every other Dawg fan attending yet another waste of time at the Joke by Coke.....it's why Jim Donnan lost his job, Goff made the remark "you don't think Tech is a rival? Try losing to them." and Dooley announced on the call in show that Tech is the biggest game of the year. We share our state with them. That's it. If we lose, there's nowhere to run. 365 days of pure hell. I've been party to this abhorrence and let me tell you, young Dawgs, it is not something I hope you ever experience. It's like a year long plague....rivers run red, frogs raining down, Biblical stuff. Luckily, the way its going, you may not ever experience it.
So, it's LSU in the Dome. Good Lord. I thought we would never see this day. We will have to play flawless football to beat these guys. I don't know how it will shake out, but I am DANG proud of our guys. I don't care about the soft schedule talk, ESPN's shameless lobbying and the drivel of talking heads. They still have to play the game. In any event, I will be there. UGA 17....LSU 10 (or hope LSU gets lost on the way)
(back to our Tech friend): Imagine your a Tech fan again, sitting in your Prius, in traffic, contemplating another loss to the Dawgs. You yell out your window, "See you in basketball season!" (oh wait...) to a group of Dawgs walking down Larry Munson Boulevard. You go back to your dorm, crack open another Zima, and stare at your computer screen. You turn on more Katy Perry. Junebug Dawkins is hauling back to Ocilla, with your girlfriend. What a bad day.
At least you have the moon.
Other Highlights:
1) LSU crushed Arkansas to guarantee their spot in the SEC title game, 41-17. At the postgame handshake, Bobby Petrino expressed his displeasure with Les Miles with a four word phrase that shall not be repeated here. Here is a four word phrase for you, Bobby: "Atlanta hates your guts."
2) The NBA looks to have settled the lockout and will start on Christmas Day. Meanwhile, Kim Kardashian has locked Kris Humphries out of their house. I've locked up SEC championship tickets, nobody has locked the Heisman down and Tech might as well lock up Bobby Dodd Stadium. If I ever see Breaking Dawn again, they'll have to lock me away forever.
3) Florida and Auburn both did Larry Munson tributes at their stadiums. Although some of his greatest calls were at their expense, Gators, Tigers and the Tide paid their last respects in classy fashion. Meanwhile, Tech booes and makes fools of themselves. It must have been the Zima.
Imagine you're a Tech fan, for a second. (a second is about all you can tolerate anyway.) You get up on gameday, you check the mail to see if the new BluRay edition of "Star Trek: The Next Generation" has arrived (you ordered it because it's got some awesome deleted scenes), and you practice speaking Klingon in the mirror as you shave for the fifth time in your life. You pack up your Prius with pita chips, your PS3 and a sixer of Zima (because you're rowdy like that) and head to the tailgating spot next to all the other gnats. A line of yellow-clad, half-cocked fools trickles onto Tech's campus, like a river of urine running through a trash dump. You gulp your first Zima. Whew, that goes down hard every time. You get your CD collection out, looking for "Georgia Tech's Greatest Calls: Volume 2" to blare over your Prius speakers. You gotta show them Dawgs who's boss. Alas, there is no such thing. In fact, there is no "Volume 1" either. So you settle for Katy Perry. Zima #2 goes down so smooth. The Buzz kicks in, you are feeling it, "We may beat Georgia today!" Your girlfriend arrives, with what appears to be three other females, causing a riot. Three pairs of glasses, a bottle of Alize and a TI-83 calculator are destroyed in the tickle pile.
"What are these long haired beings? Can they play World of Warcraft? What did they get in Physics?"
You give the girls your other four Zimas. You're wrecked at this point anyway. Katy is absolutely belting out a solo, the sun is rising over the "Andrei Amadeus Karalovsky Biomedical & Metaphysical Sciences Center for Abstract Research" and nobody got carjacked in your parking lot last night...life is good. The long haired beings, now determined to be "girls" after Jugdish, Mohammet and Lonnie did some research (+1 for Animal House reference), destroy the Zimas.
Wait for it....
A sea of red washes over the campus suddenly. Pickup trucks, blaring everything from Lil Wayne to Willie Nelson, take over the parking lot. They pull out this foreign substance, determined to be "beer" after, you guessed it, Jugdish, Mohammet and Lonnie analyzed it in the lab. They all appear to be having a great time, and don't appear to give a damn about Star Trek. Hillbillies. Rednecks. Thugs. That's what they are. You try to muster up a "To Hell With Georgia" but you're too worried that lifelong Dawg fan, Billy Ray "Junebug" Dawkins from Ocilla, Georgia might eat one of your Prius tires. So you just hush. You will just wait until kickoff, when the stadium is full of Tech people (all 35,000 of them) and you have some back up......oh wait......(to be continued)
The Game
So, we enter this week on a nine game win streak, to be put to the final regular season test before we meet LSU in the Dome. Standing in our way is the vaunted, high school offense-minded, top ten-turned-spoiler Georgia Tech Yellow Jackets. I looked up "irrelevant" in the dictionary, and after sorting through the various meanings of the word (Big Ten football, Lane Kiffin recruiting in Tennessee and Charlie Weis's next crash diet) I found Georgia Tech. It then referred me to the definition of Georgia Tech:
Georgia Tech
\Jorj-a Tek\
Noun
1: A four year collegiate institution located in Atlanta, Georgia. Famous for engineering school, Joe Hamilton's reading prowess, a coach that looks like a character from Return of the Jedi and drinking Zima.
2: Pays rent to the President of the University of Georgia in order to remain in Georgia
3: Cannot and will not schedule Georgia Southern, for fear of the unspeakable happening, which is solidifying the fact that Georgia Tech is actually the third best football program in the state.
I sifted through more definitions, like "loser," "inadequate," and "unabashed inadequate loser" but then I got bored. We had a game to play. Plus, during a tribute to Larry Munson organized by the Tech administration, the Tech fanbase booed and showed their classless side, which is par for the course in Atlanta (along with Zima, being irrelevant, and losing)
We kickoff to them and we stop the triple option cold on the first drive. Their QB, Washington (I don't give Techmites the luxury of first names), could not hit the broad side of a Prius with the ball and Jones and Sims did not have much luck running it. Punt to Brandon Boykin, who did not call for a fair catch and was downed at the 10. Out trots our offense, and I pucker up tigher than the Tech student body in anticipation of whether the SciFi channel will indeed do a "Stargate" marathon this weekend. Murray had a terrible game last week and I hoped that it was only a blip on the radar, that he was only looking ahead and not slumping on us. The first drive started off well, with Murray hitting receivers in stride. Then, as Justin Anderson throws a look out block (that's when an O-lineman loses his man and shouts to the QB, "look out!"), Tech forces a bad throw and they intercept on their own 27. Ugh. I feel my temperature rising. We cannot lose today. I equate a loss to Tech with a root canal, drinking Pepsi or eating Huddle House on purpose and fat free cheese....pain, sacrilege and foulness all rolled into one miserable ball. A ball that is then kicked down a staircase covered in broken glass and falls into a room that has a Nickelback CD on repeat along with three rednecks talking loudly on a Nextel about sprinkler pipe. Yes.....Hell....that is what I'm talking about. Ask Jim Donnan.
Tech does nothing with the turnover. This is a pattern for them. We get the ball back and Murray marches us down the field, capping a long drive with a 15 yard touchdown to Michael "Mighty Whitey" Bennett. This guy is worth his weight in Waffle House hashbrowns (a.k.a. gold). Bennett, King, Mitchell, Conley and Brown have been phenomenal all year. After losing AJ Green, I had no aspirations for this season at wide receiver, but these guys have flat stepped up. (there's "flat" again. Tech flat sucks. See? It works.) Coach Tony Ball deserves a boatload of credit. Tech gets the ball back and organizes a drive that gets them down to our 2 yard line, with a big third down play pending. Washington gets the signal, takes the snap and attempts to bolt to his left. His left guard crashed on John Jenkins, leaving Garrison "G-Unit" Smith unblocked and G-Unit swallows him whole, causing a three yard loss. Apparently, Tech's running back was supposed to pick up Garrison but I guess he got distracted thinking about his Tourism Management final exam. Tech settled for a field goal and we are fired up. Tech plays their fight song and the capacity Tech crowd of 23,000 goes nuts. You would have thought Leonard Nimoy was signing autographs on Bobby Dodd Way. He must have been, considering the empty seats in the Tech student section.
The ball goes back to us and once again, Murray marches us right down the field. Orson Charles had a spectacular day. He pulverized Tech's linebackers and secondary all day, lending creedence to the rumor that yes, we are much, much better than Tech at every facet of the game. The drive was capped by a 14 yard corner throw to Chris "Paulding County's Finest" Conley. Laura and I go crazy. Conley is a favorite of mine, a true child of the red clay, and a Damn Good Dawg. I'm sitting in the Tech season ticket section (because God has a sense of irony) and I'm living it up. 14-3 and the Techmites are already making excuses and taking potshots. (with the exception of the Tech alums to my left and right, they were actually good people)
"Well, at least we aren't hillbillies and LSU is gonna kill you."
"Athens sucks anyway."
"If only we could recruit, have decent coaching, great athletes and attractive females..."
I smile smugly. Bring on the hate. I've learned one lesson in sports: When people stop hating you, you need to start worrying. People hated Miami in the 80's, Florida in the 90's and USC in the 00's. Why? Because they won. A lot. And they let you know it too.
Tech gets the ball and starts at the 20. Our kickoff team has improved immensely since the Vanderbilt and Florida debacles. Tech did nothing on kickoffs. They did orchestrate a good drive and scored a touchdown to narrow the lead to 14-10. Sims broke a couple of tackles and spun into the end zone, causing a Tech uproar that rivaled the day that "Magic: The Gathering" was released to the masses. This touchdown was like getting two wizards and two orcs for one dwarf and an elf on a unicorn....it's a big freakin' deal on North Avenue. My stress level increases somewhat. I hear faint Nickelback songs in my head and the telltale Nextel beeping. Somewhere, across the way, I see the imps from my days at the store, Riverdancing. We gotta win.
It's close to halftime and we drive on them again. Unfortunately, we stall out and have to settle for a field goal. Blair Walsh comes out and warms up his leg, Drew Butler gets down in his holder position. The snap is not so good and Blair kicks it wide left. I stare at the railing in front of me, as Jugdish, Mohammet and Lonnie celebrate beneath me. Somewhere, Billy Ray "Junebug" Dawkins, of Ocilla, Georgia is emptying the rest of his Wild Turkey into his Coca-Cola. He grinds his teeth. "By God, I'd be better off sitting at Willie T's Oil Change and Chicken Fried Chicken back home than watching this crap." Whoa. Wait a second. The refs convene. A discussion ensues and it appears that Paul Johnson had called a timeout prior to the snap. No kick and we reset the ball and get another chance. Have you ever seen a really angry Techmite? I have. It's quite comical, really. Lots of stomping, whining and huffing and puffing.....it sounds like a bunch of sorority chicks that were all told in unison that Daddy was indeed not getting them a 2011 Range Rover. We make the kick. I turn to the Techmite behind me and say, "Isn't that a daisy?" (+1 for Tombstone reference) He gives me a perplexed look, so I say, "Oh, sorry.....um....we just put baby in the corner?" (-1 for Dirty Dancing reference, but that's all I could muster)
Halftime was marked by three things. Number One: Tech whining. Number Two: Tech booing our band. Number Three: The announcer says that Georgia Tech has had more graduates land on the moon that any other institution. This third installment lead to massive cheers. What an accomplishment, since we've gotten so much out of landing on the moon. It's kind of like the Pet Rock of space travel, nobody can really explain its significance or importance. Once again, their irrelevance, like their hypocrisy, knows no bounds. (+1 for Tombstone reference) The booing of the band was a nice touch, I must say. But we're the rednecks, remember?
The third quarter was a picture of UGA dominance over Georgia Tech. "Motel 6" Jenkins and Garrison Smith closed off the middle. Jarvis Jones fried at least three Tech guards with his shoulder gun. Shawn Williams and Mike Gilliard had interceptions. Murray connected with Tavarres King and Aron White to make it 31-10. The O-line stymied Tech's rush and gave Murray all day to throw. Seriously, I could have listened to a live version of "In Memory of Elizabeth Reed" with a guest appearance by Trey Anastasio, playing dobro, with the time Aaron had to find his receivers. Orson Charles hit their safety so hard on one play that all Frosted Oranges at the Varsity suddenly melted. Al Groh, Tech's D coordinator, needs a game ball for this one. I especially liked the six yard cushion for our tallest receivers. Pure genius. They did stop our running game, sans Crowell and Samuel, but it really did not matter. Malcolme had some decent runs but never threatened a long one. The fourth quarter was nothing more than us running out the clock and Tech plugging in their freshman quarterback...Synjyn Days. By God, that man proved two things to me on this day: 1) Tech really has nobody, I mean, they really suck; 2) You can put five consonants together and make a word. Hell, at Tech, anything's possible. Moon landings. Zima buzzes. You name it.
So, that was that. Another shellacking. Richt is 10-1 against Tech. Dooley was 19-6. Hell, Ray Goff only lost to Tech once. This is a rivalry, though...right? Yes. For one simple reason, and the only reason left that justifies me and and every other Dawg fan attending yet another waste of time at the Joke by Coke.....it's why Jim Donnan lost his job, Goff made the remark "you don't think Tech is a rival? Try losing to them." and Dooley announced on the call in show that Tech is the biggest game of the year. We share our state with them. That's it. If we lose, there's nowhere to run. 365 days of pure hell. I've been party to this abhorrence and let me tell you, young Dawgs, it is not something I hope you ever experience. It's like a year long plague....rivers run red, frogs raining down, Biblical stuff. Luckily, the way its going, you may not ever experience it.
So, it's LSU in the Dome. Good Lord. I thought we would never see this day. We will have to play flawless football to beat these guys. I don't know how it will shake out, but I am DANG proud of our guys. I don't care about the soft schedule talk, ESPN's shameless lobbying and the drivel of talking heads. They still have to play the game. In any event, I will be there. UGA 17....LSU 10 (or hope LSU gets lost on the way)
(back to our Tech friend): Imagine your a Tech fan again, sitting in your Prius, in traffic, contemplating another loss to the Dawgs. You yell out your window, "See you in basketball season!" (oh wait...) to a group of Dawgs walking down Larry Munson Boulevard. You go back to your dorm, crack open another Zima, and stare at your computer screen. You turn on more Katy Perry. Junebug Dawkins is hauling back to Ocilla, with your girlfriend. What a bad day.
At least you have the moon.
Other Highlights:
1) LSU crushed Arkansas to guarantee their spot in the SEC title game, 41-17. At the postgame handshake, Bobby Petrino expressed his displeasure with Les Miles with a four word phrase that shall not be repeated here. Here is a four word phrase for you, Bobby: "Atlanta hates your guts."
2) The NBA looks to have settled the lockout and will start on Christmas Day. Meanwhile, Kim Kardashian has locked Kris Humphries out of their house. I've locked up SEC championship tickets, nobody has locked the Heisman down and Tech might as well lock up Bobby Dodd Stadium. If I ever see Breaking Dawn again, they'll have to lock me away forever.
3) Florida and Auburn both did Larry Munson tributes at their stadiums. Although some of his greatest calls were at their expense, Gators, Tigers and the Tide paid their last respects in classy fashion. Meanwhile, Tech booes and makes fools of themselves. It must have been the Zima.
Tuesday, November 22, 2011
Recap of the Weekend...or our SEC East banner is flying half mast today
I had a great recap ready to rock n' roll about 9:00 last night, I just needed to edit it and click "post." One thing lead to another, I got delayed, and it was past 10:00 when I logged back on. I saw the Facebook posts. UGASports was in meltdown mode. I saw the AJC.com breaking news banner across the top of their site. Texts flowed into my phone like the airplane bottle of Jack Daniel's pouring into my Coke during the game on Saturday. Our living legend, our Voice, our #1 fan in the booth....Larry Munson, had died.
It took me a second to digest this information. Although Larry hadn't broadcast his gravelly voice in awhile, it still lived on through internet videos, DVD's, books and the memories of thousands of Dawg fans nationwide. Plus, since he was still alive, there was always the tiniest glimmer of hope that he would come back. That familiar voice would open a game with "Get the picture..." and all would be right with the world. Although it was preposterous to hope for such a thing, I hoped nonetheless. That's the meaning of "irreplaceable."
Larry Munson is Georgia football. I remember in the 90's, watching the Dawgs on Saturdays after my morning basketball games, getting through the pregame chatter that CBS or ABC put together. As soon as the Dawgs would get ready to kickoff, my Dad would instantly mute the TV and turn on the radio. There was the Voice, barking into his microphone, scaring us all to death with hyperbolic descriptions of the other team's size and speed. Larry would have you believing that we had no shot, that if we came within three touchdowns, we'd be lucky and we might as well get back on the bus. Then, he'd come through with a "My God, a Freshman" type call that showed you the real Larry. His passion for the Dawgs was so deep that he would build up the other team so in case we lost, it wouldn't hurt so bad. Luckily, our fears and his would be unfounded, and the Dawgs would usually pull through.
So, thank you, Larry. Thank you for making every game special. Thank you for "bending girders" and "Sugar falling from the sky." Thank you for magnifying the great career of "that kid out of Johnson County" with your unforgettable calls. Thank you for breaking steel chairs, destroying property, and lighting cigars on the banks of the St. John's. Thank you for getting us through the 90's, I'll never forget Carswell's mobbing in Athens and Quincy leading us to a 29-28 comeback in Baton Rouge in '98. Thank you for making my time at UGA that much better. Thank you for "Hobnail Boots," Fred Gibson's "whatchamacallit" and simply, "Massaquoi." Thank you for the chill down my spine when the Battle Hymn is played and your voice booms, espousing the virtues of what it means to be a Dawg. We Georgians, from Rabun Gap to Bainbridge, from Rome to Augusta, from Dalton to Kingsland, the children of the red clay and the sandy south Georgia soil, are forever in your debt. Go Rest High, old friend, you will not be forgotten.
Sorry, it's emotional. Anyhow, on to the "game," if you want to call it that.
The SEC East title was on the line Saturday. You wouldn't have figured it with the sparse attendance and an offensive cupboard that was more bare than a printout of Kim Kardashian's brain activity from 2009 - present. I know it was the beginning of fall break and Kentucky is quite pitiful, but dang. The energy bus pulled out of Athens on Friday and got a flat tire on the way to Daytona, apparently. It was Senior Day and I felt sorry for the guys who gutted out four years in our program, playing the ridiculous schedules, practicing in the cold and the heat and enduring the time crunch all student-athletes face, only to be greeted with a half-hearted golf clap from 65,000. The only inspiring thing about the entire process was that I realized we are not losing very many people to graduation next year. Luckily, the crowd grew at kickoff, but I was still pissed at the indifference.
The game kicked off and Kentucky drove right down our throats, eliciting a few "WTH?" looks from the crowd. Kentucky is 1-5 (at the time) in league play. Vandy just beat them like they stole their TI-83 calculators. This should not be happening. The "D," lead by Shawn "Predator, Junior" Williams and Jarvis "Predator" Jones," then decided to clamp down. Williams was nailing people all day. I think their left tackle saw Jarvis's picture on the Jumbotron during the pregame and decided that Jarvis was indeed the "Predator" or at least 35 years old, so he just struck the tent and surrendered. Kentucky settled for a field goal. It would literally be the last positive offensive play for them. Abry Jones manhandled their line all day, as did "Motel 6" Jenkins, who put their center and guard on a sandwich and ate them at halftime. No, really, I saw him. Richt asked him if wanted something to drink and he said, "you know I want some Kool-Aid!" (+1 for Friday reference)
Then...we go on "offense." (and I mean "offense" like something smelly or bad that is disagreeable to one's visual, olfactory or auditory senses) Crowell runs the ball twice and is injured. Our guard, Chris Burnette rolled onto his ankle. OK, cool. Carlton Thomas will carry us. Oh, wait. Carlton is out too, for "personal reasons" according to the Sports Information Director. So, out trots our walk-on running back, Brandon Harton. Kentucky drops back in a coverage defense for the rest of the game. Brandon gained over 100 yards on this day, but you wouldn't have known it unless you peeped the box score. He did bust a few long runs in the 4th to get important first downs and get us in position to score, but poor Brandon took so many licks and took so many losses, you can just rename him "Dow Jones" Harton. Quite honestly, the line stunk the place up. Brandon had very few holes up until about ten minutes to go in the fourth. Murray was completely inept. Overthrows, underthrows, audibles that got Brandon Harton nearly killed...it was a spectacle, in the same sense as a trainwreck or a school bus fire. Mitchell, King and Conley begged for a good throw, but Murray looked like a hungover frat boy playing Ultimate Frisbee on Sunday morning.
The re-awakening of Blair Walsh was nice to see. After going through a year long funk, the little man from Boca Raton finally came through when we needed him. Seriously, watching him this year was like watching Greg Norman choke the Masters away to Nick Faldo in 1996. If you will remember, Greg had a SIX SHOT lead that he blew, hole by painstaking hole, as the gallery watched in horror. I thought Verne Lundquist was going to drown himself in Rae's Creek. When the 18th hole mercifully ended and Faldo knew he won the Green Jacket, he did not even celebrate. He just hugged Norman. I just wanted to hug Blair Walsh....like Joaquin Phoenix hugged Richard Harris in the Gladiator. Fortunately, he did not cost us a game, but he did make the collective rear-ends of 92,000 people pucker up tighter than a snare drum every time he trotted onto the field. Today, he was the hero. Unpuckered, I rejoiced for him and drank deeply from my surgically enhanced Coca-Cola as he kicked field goal after field goal. He better get his mind right though. Greg Norman has a clothing line and a cheap wine enterprise that affords him $600,000 yachts and such. Being a kicker prone to shank and slice ain't going to blow the skirt up of any NFL scouts. Maybe he should get a clothing line of his own....Jorts by Blair Walsh. He can stencil his name in red and black across the right rear pocket, I bet they'd sell like mad at Wal-Mart. Then he could buy that 12 foot Johnboat, complete with a Minnkota trolling motor, that he's always wanted and putter around Lake Allatoona. Take that, Greg Norman.
Rumors begin to circulate. Where is Carlton Thomas? Is his momma sick? Did his girlfriend have a baby? Did Frostproof, Florida actually have a frost? No. The information was hidden. It was the Ark of the Covenant on Saturday. I guess if the SID released his whereabouts, Mark Richt's face would have melted off and I would have been tied to a post with Harrison Ford, with him screaming "keep your eyes shut....or hand me that airplane bottle of Jack." (+1 for Raiders of the Lost Ark reference) Only after the game did we learn that Carlton had tried to sneak a human of the female persuasion into his hotel room the night before the game. He obviously got caught, which allowed us to learn two things: 1) Carlton Thomas is heterosexual; 2) women, indeed, do weaken legs...or your constitution. (+1 for Rocky reference) C'mon, Carlton. It's one night, the illustrious beauties meandering on the banks of Lake Lanier can wait until Sunday. And now...you can buy alcohol on Sunday, so when you have that "sea donkey" moment, you can just get a "sixer" and forget about it. (+4 for Booty Call and Dazed and Confused reference in the same sentence).
The score at halftime was 10-9 Kentucky. They score on a turnover by us, where the referees basically gift wrap a touchdown for them with two horrendous calls. I watched the halftime show, grinding my teeth, imagining the crowing coming from Columbia, South Carolina.
"Yay...we are going to the SEC Championship again, maybe we'll come within 35 this time!"
(taking a giant pull from my surgically enhanced Coca-Cola) As Vinny texts me, "I'm about to kill myself," I contemplate my reaction if we blew this one. Headbutt Laura? No, definitely not. Kill the fat guy next to me who bitches about something every three seconds? Maybe, if he keeps whining about Brandon Harton, I could. Power clean the first person in blue and toss them into the foul creek the runs by the stadium? Yes. Then, I thought better of it. I like Kentucky people, they are class for the most part, and their basketball team is my adopted tournament squad, since UGA goes about as often as Republican governor gets elected in Georgia. We trot out for the second half and I feel like we will take control. We get the ball and sputter again. Harton loses his helmet for the 87th time. I get another text from Vinny, referring to our offense in a manner that cannot be transcribed here. We eventually go up 12-10, but I'm just about at the end of my rope. My Coca-Cola is gone and I just polished off two hot dogs with the ferocity of two Cassvillians arguing over whether Ken Schrader's #25 Budweiser car or Bill Elliott's #94 McDonald's car looked better.
The drought gets broken finally. Murray finds Marlon Brown in the back of the end zone to make it 19-10. The defense is absolutely killing Kentucky. Shawn Williams lays out their tight end and dances around him, barking and likely foaming at the mouth. I love me some Shawn Williams. He reminds me of those nasty Miami safeties from the early 2000's, who would rip your head off and then take over South Beach on Saturday night with Nevin Shapiro (allegedly) (not that I care though, I love the U and always will). Jarvis gets 2.5 sacks and blocks a pass with such force that the ball turned back into a pig, oinked loudly and ran out of the tunnel by the south end zone. We hold on for a 19-10 victory and the SEC East banner resides in Athens. I watch the players celebrate and I realize that this team, while straining my very soul for the last 60 minutes, still has my heart. I love these guys. After the 0-2 start, the "Fire Richt Yesterday" bantering, the close calls to Tennessee and Ole Miss, the suspensions, and the overall stress of the season, we are 9-2 and going to Atlanta. I imagine the Columbia, South Carolina crowd again. The inferiority complex shining through, crying in their umbrella drinks, as they lament another year of irrelevance. It warms the heart, it really does.
It's on to Atlanta, twice. Before we meet one of the vaunted triumvirate of our Western SEC brethren, we gotta play Tech. I cannot express my utter hatred for these people (disclaimer: all my friends that attended Tech are excluded, I've never had a problem with any of you). It goes beyond any other opponent. It's not even close. I hate going to their stadium, I hate driving on North Avenue, hell, I hate their g&%$^$n sign that sits on I-75, polluting the atmosphere with drivel about their next chemistry experiment. Every totally negative experience that I've ever had at a college football game happened against Tech. Even at LSU, they'll cuss you six ways from Sunday and then offer you a plate of jambalaya. Even with Florida, you can have a drink with a Gator and get along just fine. Not with Tech. It's pure hate and I'll be there, regardless of my disdain for their stadium, to pull the Dawgs through. Somebody asked me today, "do you think the Dawgs can make it ten in a row on Saturday?"
To quote our beloved Voice, "Yeah, Yeah, Yeah!"
32-17 Dawgs and I'll probably go to jail. Oh well, worth it! Happy Thanksgiving!
Other Highlights:
1) Laura allowed the car to run out of gas on the way home Saturday. I was awakened with an "uh oh" and a sputtering sound, coasting to a stop in middle of the off ramp at Marietta. For some reason, she can audit banks and large corporations, but the whole "gas light/empty" thing....slightly more challenging. It was all good, though. Thanks be to Officer Trehern of the Marietta Police Department for saving me a three mile walk.
2) I paid for and attended a viewing of "Breaking Dawn." It may be the worst 1 hour and 45 minute waste of film I've witnessed since watching Tech's offensive game film from the 2002 beating in Athens. (51-7 and it could have been 70, but Richt fell asleep with the rest of the team.) Seriously, Kristen Stewart is awkwardly bad, like Tech's offensive line and receivers. Robert Pattinson, with his afflicted "I love you, Bella, but I'm so...torn...up...inside" blabbering, reminded me of Paul Johnson explaining just how Tech blew the 2009 game against us. You suck, that's how.
It took me a second to digest this information. Although Larry hadn't broadcast his gravelly voice in awhile, it still lived on through internet videos, DVD's, books and the memories of thousands of Dawg fans nationwide. Plus, since he was still alive, there was always the tiniest glimmer of hope that he would come back. That familiar voice would open a game with "Get the picture..." and all would be right with the world. Although it was preposterous to hope for such a thing, I hoped nonetheless. That's the meaning of "irreplaceable."
Larry Munson is Georgia football. I remember in the 90's, watching the Dawgs on Saturdays after my morning basketball games, getting through the pregame chatter that CBS or ABC put together. As soon as the Dawgs would get ready to kickoff, my Dad would instantly mute the TV and turn on the radio. There was the Voice, barking into his microphone, scaring us all to death with hyperbolic descriptions of the other team's size and speed. Larry would have you believing that we had no shot, that if we came within three touchdowns, we'd be lucky and we might as well get back on the bus. Then, he'd come through with a "My God, a Freshman" type call that showed you the real Larry. His passion for the Dawgs was so deep that he would build up the other team so in case we lost, it wouldn't hurt so bad. Luckily, our fears and his would be unfounded, and the Dawgs would usually pull through.
So, thank you, Larry. Thank you for making every game special. Thank you for "bending girders" and "Sugar falling from the sky." Thank you for magnifying the great career of "that kid out of Johnson County" with your unforgettable calls. Thank you for breaking steel chairs, destroying property, and lighting cigars on the banks of the St. John's. Thank you for getting us through the 90's, I'll never forget Carswell's mobbing in Athens and Quincy leading us to a 29-28 comeback in Baton Rouge in '98. Thank you for making my time at UGA that much better. Thank you for "Hobnail Boots," Fred Gibson's "whatchamacallit" and simply, "Massaquoi." Thank you for the chill down my spine when the Battle Hymn is played and your voice booms, espousing the virtues of what it means to be a Dawg. We Georgians, from Rabun Gap to Bainbridge, from Rome to Augusta, from Dalton to Kingsland, the children of the red clay and the sandy south Georgia soil, are forever in your debt. Go Rest High, old friend, you will not be forgotten.
Sorry, it's emotional. Anyhow, on to the "game," if you want to call it that.
The SEC East title was on the line Saturday. You wouldn't have figured it with the sparse attendance and an offensive cupboard that was more bare than a printout of Kim Kardashian's brain activity from 2009 - present. I know it was the beginning of fall break and Kentucky is quite pitiful, but dang. The energy bus pulled out of Athens on Friday and got a flat tire on the way to Daytona, apparently. It was Senior Day and I felt sorry for the guys who gutted out four years in our program, playing the ridiculous schedules, practicing in the cold and the heat and enduring the time crunch all student-athletes face, only to be greeted with a half-hearted golf clap from 65,000. The only inspiring thing about the entire process was that I realized we are not losing very many people to graduation next year. Luckily, the crowd grew at kickoff, but I was still pissed at the indifference.
The game kicked off and Kentucky drove right down our throats, eliciting a few "WTH?" looks from the crowd. Kentucky is 1-5 (at the time) in league play. Vandy just beat them like they stole their TI-83 calculators. This should not be happening. The "D," lead by Shawn "Predator, Junior" Williams and Jarvis "Predator" Jones," then decided to clamp down. Williams was nailing people all day. I think their left tackle saw Jarvis's picture on the Jumbotron during the pregame and decided that Jarvis was indeed the "Predator" or at least 35 years old, so he just struck the tent and surrendered. Kentucky settled for a field goal. It would literally be the last positive offensive play for them. Abry Jones manhandled their line all day, as did "Motel 6" Jenkins, who put their center and guard on a sandwich and ate them at halftime. No, really, I saw him. Richt asked him if wanted something to drink and he said, "you know I want some Kool-Aid!" (+1 for Friday reference)
Then...we go on "offense." (and I mean "offense" like something smelly or bad that is disagreeable to one's visual, olfactory or auditory senses) Crowell runs the ball twice and is injured. Our guard, Chris Burnette rolled onto his ankle. OK, cool. Carlton Thomas will carry us. Oh, wait. Carlton is out too, for "personal reasons" according to the Sports Information Director. So, out trots our walk-on running back, Brandon Harton. Kentucky drops back in a coverage defense for the rest of the game. Brandon gained over 100 yards on this day, but you wouldn't have known it unless you peeped the box score. He did bust a few long runs in the 4th to get important first downs and get us in position to score, but poor Brandon took so many licks and took so many losses, you can just rename him "Dow Jones" Harton. Quite honestly, the line stunk the place up. Brandon had very few holes up until about ten minutes to go in the fourth. Murray was completely inept. Overthrows, underthrows, audibles that got Brandon Harton nearly killed...it was a spectacle, in the same sense as a trainwreck or a school bus fire. Mitchell, King and Conley begged for a good throw, but Murray looked like a hungover frat boy playing Ultimate Frisbee on Sunday morning.
The re-awakening of Blair Walsh was nice to see. After going through a year long funk, the little man from Boca Raton finally came through when we needed him. Seriously, watching him this year was like watching Greg Norman choke the Masters away to Nick Faldo in 1996. If you will remember, Greg had a SIX SHOT lead that he blew, hole by painstaking hole, as the gallery watched in horror. I thought Verne Lundquist was going to drown himself in Rae's Creek. When the 18th hole mercifully ended and Faldo knew he won the Green Jacket, he did not even celebrate. He just hugged Norman. I just wanted to hug Blair Walsh....like Joaquin Phoenix hugged Richard Harris in the Gladiator. Fortunately, he did not cost us a game, but he did make the collective rear-ends of 92,000 people pucker up tighter than a snare drum every time he trotted onto the field. Today, he was the hero. Unpuckered, I rejoiced for him and drank deeply from my surgically enhanced Coca-Cola as he kicked field goal after field goal. He better get his mind right though. Greg Norman has a clothing line and a cheap wine enterprise that affords him $600,000 yachts and such. Being a kicker prone to shank and slice ain't going to blow the skirt up of any NFL scouts. Maybe he should get a clothing line of his own....Jorts by Blair Walsh. He can stencil his name in red and black across the right rear pocket, I bet they'd sell like mad at Wal-Mart. Then he could buy that 12 foot Johnboat, complete with a Minnkota trolling motor, that he's always wanted and putter around Lake Allatoona. Take that, Greg Norman.
Rumors begin to circulate. Where is Carlton Thomas? Is his momma sick? Did his girlfriend have a baby? Did Frostproof, Florida actually have a frost? No. The information was hidden. It was the Ark of the Covenant on Saturday. I guess if the SID released his whereabouts, Mark Richt's face would have melted off and I would have been tied to a post with Harrison Ford, with him screaming "keep your eyes shut....or hand me that airplane bottle of Jack." (+1 for Raiders of the Lost Ark reference) Only after the game did we learn that Carlton had tried to sneak a human of the female persuasion into his hotel room the night before the game. He obviously got caught, which allowed us to learn two things: 1) Carlton Thomas is heterosexual; 2) women, indeed, do weaken legs...or your constitution. (+1 for Rocky reference) C'mon, Carlton. It's one night, the illustrious beauties meandering on the banks of Lake Lanier can wait until Sunday. And now...you can buy alcohol on Sunday, so when you have that "sea donkey" moment, you can just get a "sixer" and forget about it. (+4 for Booty Call and Dazed and Confused reference in the same sentence).
The score at halftime was 10-9 Kentucky. They score on a turnover by us, where the referees basically gift wrap a touchdown for them with two horrendous calls. I watched the halftime show, grinding my teeth, imagining the crowing coming from Columbia, South Carolina.
"Yay...we are going to the SEC Championship again, maybe we'll come within 35 this time!"
(taking a giant pull from my surgically enhanced Coca-Cola) As Vinny texts me, "I'm about to kill myself," I contemplate my reaction if we blew this one. Headbutt Laura? No, definitely not. Kill the fat guy next to me who bitches about something every three seconds? Maybe, if he keeps whining about Brandon Harton, I could. Power clean the first person in blue and toss them into the foul creek the runs by the stadium? Yes. Then, I thought better of it. I like Kentucky people, they are class for the most part, and their basketball team is my adopted tournament squad, since UGA goes about as often as Republican governor gets elected in Georgia. We trot out for the second half and I feel like we will take control. We get the ball and sputter again. Harton loses his helmet for the 87th time. I get another text from Vinny, referring to our offense in a manner that cannot be transcribed here. We eventually go up 12-10, but I'm just about at the end of my rope. My Coca-Cola is gone and I just polished off two hot dogs with the ferocity of two Cassvillians arguing over whether Ken Schrader's #25 Budweiser car or Bill Elliott's #94 McDonald's car looked better.
The drought gets broken finally. Murray finds Marlon Brown in the back of the end zone to make it 19-10. The defense is absolutely killing Kentucky. Shawn Williams lays out their tight end and dances around him, barking and likely foaming at the mouth. I love me some Shawn Williams. He reminds me of those nasty Miami safeties from the early 2000's, who would rip your head off and then take over South Beach on Saturday night with Nevin Shapiro (allegedly) (not that I care though, I love the U and always will). Jarvis gets 2.5 sacks and blocks a pass with such force that the ball turned back into a pig, oinked loudly and ran out of the tunnel by the south end zone. We hold on for a 19-10 victory and the SEC East banner resides in Athens. I watch the players celebrate and I realize that this team, while straining my very soul for the last 60 minutes, still has my heart. I love these guys. After the 0-2 start, the "Fire Richt Yesterday" bantering, the close calls to Tennessee and Ole Miss, the suspensions, and the overall stress of the season, we are 9-2 and going to Atlanta. I imagine the Columbia, South Carolina crowd again. The inferiority complex shining through, crying in their umbrella drinks, as they lament another year of irrelevance. It warms the heart, it really does.
It's on to Atlanta, twice. Before we meet one of the vaunted triumvirate of our Western SEC brethren, we gotta play Tech. I cannot express my utter hatred for these people (disclaimer: all my friends that attended Tech are excluded, I've never had a problem with any of you). It goes beyond any other opponent. It's not even close. I hate going to their stadium, I hate driving on North Avenue, hell, I hate their g&%$^$n sign that sits on I-75, polluting the atmosphere with drivel about their next chemistry experiment. Every totally negative experience that I've ever had at a college football game happened against Tech. Even at LSU, they'll cuss you six ways from Sunday and then offer you a plate of jambalaya. Even with Florida, you can have a drink with a Gator and get along just fine. Not with Tech. It's pure hate and I'll be there, regardless of my disdain for their stadium, to pull the Dawgs through. Somebody asked me today, "do you think the Dawgs can make it ten in a row on Saturday?"
To quote our beloved Voice, "Yeah, Yeah, Yeah!"
32-17 Dawgs and I'll probably go to jail. Oh well, worth it! Happy Thanksgiving!
Other Highlights:
1) Laura allowed the car to run out of gas on the way home Saturday. I was awakened with an "uh oh" and a sputtering sound, coasting to a stop in middle of the off ramp at Marietta. For some reason, she can audit banks and large corporations, but the whole "gas light/empty" thing....slightly more challenging. It was all good, though. Thanks be to Officer Trehern of the Marietta Police Department for saving me a three mile walk.
2) I paid for and attended a viewing of "Breaking Dawn." It may be the worst 1 hour and 45 minute waste of film I've witnessed since watching Tech's offensive game film from the 2002 beating in Athens. (51-7 and it could have been 70, but Richt fell asleep with the rest of the team.) Seriously, Kristen Stewart is awkwardly bad, like Tech's offensive line and receivers. Robert Pattinson, with his afflicted "I love you, Bella, but I'm so...torn...up...inside" blabbering, reminded me of Paul Johnson explaining just how Tech blew the 2009 game against us. You suck, that's how.
Tuesday, November 15, 2011
Practical Knowledge....courtesy of 1810
I turned 30 this year. At such a milestone, one cannot help but take inventory of a life lived and decide whether you've lived up to your expectations and the expectations of others.(the "others" for me can be counted on two hands) I have to say I feel pretty dang good about life. I can't complain about anything worthwhile. I love my job somedays, my family every day and I am in good health except for my aching knees, thanks to years of basketball, absolutely no stretching and injuries I neglected because I refused to take pills...and still do.
You look back on your childhood and adolescence with fondness. You remember the good times and often wish for simpler days when you cruised the strip, blew precious gas money and just hoped a semi-attractive female gave you five seconds of her time. You look back on decisions that shaped you and your education. I was educated in the superb public schools of Georgia, which battles Mississippi, Alabama, and South Carolina for the lowest ranking public education system in the country. My senior year of high school, we were 49th, edging South Carolina by a nose. I'm telling you, I demanded a recount, nobody remembers who came in second, or next to last. I wanted the Class of '99 to make their mark, we needed that 50th place to etch our place in history.
"Hell you think your class was bad...you should have seen '99. Dude. Unreal." #winning
Unleash all the familiar stories. Teen pregnancy. 510 on the SAT. F's in Health and Team Sports. Students who care more about their cars and cussing out teachers than Physical Science. You know, the important stuff. Honestly, they haven't changed in adulthood either. I see people who can't afford their light bill, but by God, they got a Chrysler 300M with all the bells and whistles for a cool $650 per month. They can't pay child support but they lease a 63" television from Aaron's with 235% interest. I mean, really, what would life be without giant TV's and a false front of financial security?
**Sidenote: Seriously, what is it with Atlanta and Chrysler 300's? They are EVERYWHERE and people trick these things out and cruise around like it means something. FYI, it's not a Rolls or a Bentley, no matter how much you want it to be.
Anyhow, I am not disparaging my state. I am merely stating facts here. Anyone who attended school in Georgia would agree with me.
Here's another fact for you: I barely use my school education in the practical world. Other than simple arithmetic, grammar rules, and when Jeopardy comes on at 7:30, I'm at a loss. I am the king of useless knowledge and proud of it though. I can name all 159 Georgia counties without looking. Honestly, my PE teacher, Coach Henry Atwater, allowed me to shoot basketball the entire period every semester I was in his class. I would work on my free throws, post moves, shooting from the elbow and left handed layups. I have shot approximately 10,000 basketballs since high school. You know how many times I've been asked to solve a calculus problem since that time? 0.
10,000 > 0
See? Simple math. Coach Atwater was the man. I can still drill 'em from the elbow and my left handed layups are money. I couldn't tell you what "x" equals in an equation if my UgaSports.com subscription depended on it. Quite honestly, I don't need to know and refuse to put in the effort at this point. I never wanted to be an engineer or a computer programmer.
My most useful education came from Cass Grocery. As far as practical usage, there was no better place to learn. 1810 ran the gambit when it comes to reading, writing, math, science, health, law, and foreign language. Standing up there for 12-14 hours a day, interacting with the good people of Bartow County, taught yours truly everything I needed to make it to 30 years and beyond. I credit these people, along with my family and co-workers, in shaping the man you see before you in the present day. Here are some examples of what Cass Grocery taught me, correlated with public education of course.
Foreign Language:
A) Public School: "You need to learn a foreign language. It increases your ability to interact with other cultures. Now conjugate this, please."
B) Cass Grocery: The universal language is money. When one would feign the lack of an understanding of English for their benefit, I would simply increase the price of their purchase. Suddenly, their English was perfect as they questioned why their six pack of beer now costs $20. We didn't get ripped off and they knew we were not going to put up with lying, stealing and other such nonsense. Conjugate that, please.
Reading
A) Public School: "Identify the subject, verbs, and the predicate of this sentence. It will help you communicate effectively later in life. I swear. No, really. Y'all wake up!"
B) Cass Grocery: Once my Dad was working at the store and this woman accused him of selling cigarettes to her underage son. She handed Dad the receipt, showing the purchase of cigarettes, the time of purchase, and the date. She proceeded to dress Dad down, told him she called the police and that he was in big trouble. Her arrogance was palpable to be sure. My dad was strangely calm. Unfortunately for her, she failed to read the top of the receipt, which read "Cass-White Amoco, 1234 Cass-White Road, Cartersville, Georgia" and the time, which was 10:30 PM. 1810 never stayed open past 8:00 PM. There have been awkward moments at 1810, but this one may have topped them all. I'm talking "Finkle is Einhorn? Einhorn is Finkle?" awkwardness (+1 for Ace Ventura reference). The unholy tirade that ensued is legendary.
Math
A) (drawing a triangle) "I want you to find the angles in this triangle and calculate the area of said triangle. This will help you....uh, find angles and stuff."
B) Cass Grocery: (customer holding a PVC fitting):
"Hey Brad, I got this thingy right here that Daddy is trying to fix. We need a doodad that twists in there with a whatchamacallit to hold it in there."
(customer does hand motions for the twisting of the doodad and the holding action of the whatchamacallit as he hands me the fitting) I then use deductive reasoning (also known as picking up and trying every threaded fitting until he says, "yeah that's it") to solve his problem. No angles, no calculation of area. Toilet (non-triangle shaped, I guess) is fixed.
Science
A) "Keep your hands away from the Bunsen Burner, it is hot and could cause harm to your person. Y'all put down that frog! Hey, no smoking in here."
B) Cass Grocery:
Dad: "Hey, we just got a new shipment of Liquid Fire in. See the name? Liquid Fire. It's an industrial pipe cleaner with acid in it. Don't let that stuff get on you. It will burn clear through to the bone and I'm not driving your ass to the hospital because you were stupid."
Me: "Ok, Dad."
Law:
A) Public Education: "You should not hit people. You should not do drugs. You should not hit people while on drugs. You could go to jail."
B) Cass Grocery: (actual conversation I had when I was 14, edited to be true to form):
Me: "Hey, Bobby, you alright? I saw the cops at your house last night coming home from Kennesaw."
Bobby: "Oh hell, boy, you ain't gonna believe this. My ex old lady showed up drunk at the house, wantin' to see them youngins. I pulled out them papers and done showed her, you can't see the damn kids if you're drunk or I don't thank (think) its in their best intrists (interests) or whatever. You know how she is, that woman don't know nuthin (nothing) but two things: drinkin and pissin me off. That bitch got all mad and punched me right in the mouth. Then her damn boyfriend got out of the car. I told that sorry sumbitch to stay right whar (where) he was or he woulda got his head blowed off. I went in the house and told Momma to take the youngins to the basement. I got me a baseball bat and went out thar (there) and told her to take her happy ice (ass) on back to that dumpster she calls a house and don't come back here no more. She sassed me and crossed her arms and said her name was on the house too and she wasn't nowheres (nowhere) without the kids. So you know what I done? I baseballbatted (hit it with a baseball bat) her car, busted out them headlights. She said, "I'm on (I'm gonna) call the cops!" Call em! Call em! I said. Take me to damn jail. I don't keer (care). The cops come upair (up there) and started asking us stuff. I told I knowed mah (my) rights and I ain't criminatin (incriminating) myself or nuthin. So, they take me in for busting her car and damned if they didn't bust her for a DUI. Then they run licenses and pick up her boyfriend on a warrant! Sumbitch had three charges up at Calhoun for forgin' checks! Momma bailed me out. That damn car is still in my driveway, I'm gonna light it on far (fire) when I get home."
Me: "Dang. You need a pack of Marlboros?" (with a full understanding of constitutional and state law)
So, there you have it. For every calculated piece of curriculum I heard from my teachers, there was another lesson learned at 1810. I say that I definitely use advice like "don't never check a hot car's radiator" or "don't drink too much, or your old lady will divorce you and take everthang (everything) you got" much more than calculus, conjugated words, and the various forms of foliage that grow in southeastern Uzbekistan. (which is near Macon, Georgia...right?)
Disclaimer: This is no way discourages education, nor casts aspersions on my former teachers or current teachers. It is hard to mold (change and/or shape) minds that are already molded (rotting/covered in fungi).
That's a homonym. See? I learned something.
B) Cass Grocery: (actual conversation I had when I was 14, edited to be true to form):
Me: "Hey, Bobby, you alright? I saw the cops at your house last night coming home from Kennesaw."
Bobby: "Oh hell, boy, you ain't gonna believe this. My ex old lady showed up drunk at the house, wantin' to see them youngins. I pulled out them papers and done showed her, you can't see the damn kids if you're drunk or I don't thank (think) its in their best intrists (interests) or whatever. You know how she is, that woman don't know nuthin (nothing) but two things: drinkin and pissin me off. That bitch got all mad and punched me right in the mouth. Then her damn boyfriend got out of the car. I told that sorry sumbitch to stay right whar (where) he was or he woulda got his head blowed off. I went in the house and told Momma to take the youngins to the basement. I got me a baseball bat and went out thar (there) and told her to take her happy ice (ass) on back to that dumpster she calls a house and don't come back here no more. She sassed me and crossed her arms and said her name was on the house too and she wasn't nowheres (nowhere) without the kids. So you know what I done? I baseballbatted (hit it with a baseball bat) her car, busted out them headlights. She said, "I'm on (I'm gonna) call the cops!" Call em! Call em! I said. Take me to damn jail. I don't keer (care). The cops come upair (up there) and started asking us stuff. I told I knowed mah (my) rights and I ain't criminatin (incriminating) myself or nuthin. So, they take me in for busting her car and damned if they didn't bust her for a DUI. Then they run licenses and pick up her boyfriend on a warrant! Sumbitch had three charges up at Calhoun for forgin' checks! Momma bailed me out. That damn car is still in my driveway, I'm gonna light it on far (fire) when I get home."
Me: "Dang. You need a pack of Marlboros?" (with a full understanding of constitutional and state law)
So, there you have it. For every calculated piece of curriculum I heard from my teachers, there was another lesson learned at 1810. I say that I definitely use advice like "don't never check a hot car's radiator" or "don't drink too much, or your old lady will divorce you and take everthang (everything) you got" much more than calculus, conjugated words, and the various forms of foliage that grow in southeastern Uzbekistan. (which is near Macon, Georgia...right?)
Disclaimer: This is no way discourages education, nor casts aspersions on my former teachers or current teachers. It is hard to mold (change and/or shape) minds that are already molded (rotting/covered in fungi).
That's a homonym. See? I learned something.
Sunday, November 13, 2011
Recap of the Weekend...or payback is better than Mama Kim's sweet potato casserole (almost)
Nah, nothing is better than Mama Kim's sweet potato casserole. Seriously, that woman covered sweet potatoes with marshmallows and pecans in such a way that it caused yours truly to contemplate voluntary manslaughter when somebody took the last piece at Christmas 1998. Luckily, morality prevailed and my brother is still among us today. I told you, my appetite is legen....wait for it.......dary. (+1 for How I Met Your Mother reference)
Well, well, well....I don't know how to start. When I saw Trooper Taylor chest bumping and towel spinning before kickoff , I prayed to God and Erk Russell that he would tear his ACL and have to go to Athens Regional, where the pro Georgia staff would blare Larry Munson highlights in his room while they sewed his knee back together with barbed wire. This guy chest bumped Nick Fairley after he injured Aaron Murray at Auburn last year, making an enemy out of the Dawgnation and especially yours truly. It's all I could think about on Saturday before the game. As I poured my Wild Turkey and Sprite (Wild Turkey in honor of our enemies, the War EaglePlainsTigersmen), I contemplated another loss to these people. Auburn. The same Auburn who copies our fight song. The same Auburn, whose roster is routinely made up of Georgians. The same Auburn with a giant alumni club in Atlanta. We could not endure another loss and I could not endure another Trooper Taylor Show. I would certainly have gone to Ace Hardware in Adairsville, bought the most expensive chainsaw they had and cut his Escalade in half. (+1 for Any Given Sunday reference)
During warmups, I saw our guys looking at Auburn's sideline and I saw some confident nodding, so I felt pretty good. I assume they were sizing up Auburn's players, or commenting on the girth of their cheerleaders, but in any event, things looked up. Auburn's band played #1 of the 4,967 songs they would play on Saturday. Seriously, these geeks never shut up. They even played when UGA was honoring some faculty during a commercial break, which I thought was extremely rude. However, I have become accustomed to this, inadequacy often breeds intolerable rudeness.
They kicked off to us and Boykin did his usual damage and got us decent field position. Murray trotted out there and picked Auburn apart with precision passing and Crowell and Carlton Thomas gashed them for 8-10 yards every touch. Marching down the field, I noticed that Trooper Taylor started his towel waving. I could see myself, standing in line at Ace Hardware amongst the good people of Adairsville, holding a nice Husqvarna with an evil grin on my face. Then approaching Auburn with that same grin, calling Harvey Updyke on his cell in prison, saying "prepare to be one-upped, you nutcase." Dad would bail me out, I'm sure of it.
Murray finds King in the end zone to make it 7-0. I'm really proud of Tavarres King, the guy has flat stepped up since Boise State.
**Sidenote: I love saying "flat" when describing actions. It's a Southern saying that adds emphasis when needed. Like when some old fan says, "That Malcolm Mitchell can flat out run, boy." It means that Malcolm Mitchell can, indeed, run very fast. Mama Kim could flat cook a sweet potato casserole. See? It works.
We kick the ball back to Auburn and the WarEaglePlainsTigersMen basically mirror us offensively. They march down the field, pass to McCalebb, pass to Blake, pass to Lutzenkirchen. Poor guy. It probably took him thirty minutes to bubble in his name on the SAT. That would explain his low score and his acceptance into Auburn. However, the dude is a pretty good tight end. Malzahn and his "smoke and mirrors" offense run a trick play, where Uzomah and Lutzenkirchen hook up for a score. Two Georgians. Grrrrrrr. Trooper's towel is in full swing, chest bumps all around......and I can smell the 2:1 oil in my chainsaw.
Murray marches us right back down the field again. Carlton Thomas is on fire. The little man from Frostproof, Florida came out to make statement, to be forgiven for his indiscretions that got him suspended last week. Statement made. He had 127 yards this day and threw several key blocks that helped Murray stay in the pocket and toss TD's all over Auburn's secondary. Michael "Mighty Whitey" Bennett catches a 40 yarder falling down, over his left shoulder to make it 14-7. The Georgia sideline erupts and Jarvis Jones's internal computer turns on and zeroes in on Clint Moseley. Shawn Williams does the same. Shawn Williams is Predator Junior, as Emory Blake would find out in the second quarter. Our defense has become a swagger infested killing machine....jaws flapping, along with dreadlocks and Jarvis Jones's shoulder gun frying quarterbacks like a six piece bucket at Church's. Abry Jones, Jenkins, Tyson, Washington and Geathers are denying the middle like an overbearing bouncer checking ID's at the old Crystal Chandelier in Rome. Auburn would have a total of 9 first downs all day. The second leading rushing team in the SEC looked like a hungover fraternity flag football team trying to run the Statute of Liberty. Inept. Incapable. Incapacitated.
The game turned on the kickoff after Mighty Whitey scored. Tre Mason took our kickoff from one yard deep in the end zone and sprints up the middle with abandon. I give the man credit, he seemed fearless....or really stupid. Quintavious "Cootie" Harrow of Columbus, Georgia was sprinting from the right side, unblocked and zeroed in on Mason's chest. Cootie unleashed a lick that sent Mason to the turf, his shoulder blades striking the ground first. The Sanford Stadium crowd, already sensing something was brewing, went berserk. A collective "ooooooohhhhhh" came forth from 92,000 people. The entire kickoff team swarmed Cootie. It's already on Youtube with 2,000 hits. Auburn returned to their sideline, tail between their legs, reminiscing about the beatdown delivered to them by the LSU Tigers courtesy of big hits on kickoffs. Little did they know, another embarrasment was coming their way. They punted quickly on that series.
We traded fumbles with Auburn at the 50 yard line. Crowell dropped a ball trying to cut around a blocker. Then on Auburn's first play, Dyer tried to execute a reverse to McCalebb, which he dropped and Geathers fell on it. Onterrio McCalebb saw Kwame coming and cleared out, he was giving up 175 pounds and 6 inches. It would have been like an anvil hitting Wile E. Coyote if Kwame landed on Onterrio. Kwame and Onterrio....sounds like a cheesy clothing store in the mall. It would be like Hollister, you walk by and are instantly high from the overpowering smell of cheap cologne. Anyhow, we drive down easily, courtesy of another great route by King and runs by Crowell and Thomas. Murray finds fullback Bruce Figgins for a ten yard completion and score to make it 21-7. I love Bruce Figgins. The man waylays people on running plays, gets little credit except for "I wouldn't want to fight Bruce Figgins," from the occasional opposing player. Trooper's towel has gone silent. In fact, I can't really see him. Somebody saw him checking Craigslist on his laptop for "Irrelevant and Useless Positions of Meaninglessness" under the bench, so that explains his absence.
Then the game got out of hand, courtesy of the defense. It was like the early 80's all over again, when we were Junkyard as hell and battered people. I swear I heard "Owner of a Lonely Heart" blaring out of the speakers of an '84 Camaro on Baldwin Street. I've said it before, I would NEVER have survived the early 80's at UGA. Too much good football + less rules + a 19-20 year old me = a massive brawl with Notre Dame fans at the 1980 National Championship and we all fall into Lake Ponchartrain fighting in the back of a pickup truck that was on fire. Auburn receives the kickoff and Quan Bray gets nowhere. They run two unsuccessful plays. On third down, Moseley bobbles the snap for a second and then fires a pass to his right. In his haste, he did not see Bacarri Rambo hiding behind his receiver. Rambo jumps the route, taking his league leading interception to the house on a zigzag run that was effectuated by a devastating block on Emory Blake by Shawn Williams. Shawn hit Blake so hard that Blake's car threw a rod back in Auburn. Shawn and Baccari are two southwest Georgia boys that bleed red and black and flat destroy people every week. To the good people of Early and Seminole County, thank you for sending us these heat seeking missiles. The sideline and the stadium exploded. We got a penalty. It didn't matter. This game was over. I picked Jeremy Brock up over my head and Gorilla pressed him, channeling my inner Ultimate Warrior from Parts Unknown.
The second half saw Murray throw a total of one pass. A heavy dose of Crowell and Thomas is all we needed. We basically double dawg dared Auburn to stop us, and they got their tongues stuck to the pole and we stole their lunch money. (+1 for Christmas Story reference) They did nothing offensively. They could not run. They could not pass. Grantham looked at Gus Malzahn, Ric Flair strutted from one hash to another, and said "Wooooooooo!" It was beautiful. Richt had a evil smirk on his face as our first team offense trotted out there again and again, battering them into submission. Payback for Fairley. Payback for the Cam Newton Show, when he blew kisses to our defense in a brash display of cockiness before the game started last year. I can't stand that guy. It ain't the money thing, it ain't the cocky attitude....I just don't like him. Speaking of not liking someone, Trooper Taylor disappeared in the second half. He took his backwards hats, towels and chest bumps and went to apply for the assistant waterboy position at Georgia State. Bill Curry would be happy to have him, I'm sure. A piece of Tech scum like Curry and a showboat like Taylor go together like Auburn and probation. It just fits.
I predicted 31-13 and I am happy to say it was worse than that. Our rivalry was voted as one of the nastiest in college football in the Sporting News and I have to agree somewhat. It only happened recently but it's definintely nasty these days. We got along with all Auburn folks, but there was an edge to this game. It was like two guys meeting a year after one stole the other's girlfriend, it's cool now but everybody is just waiting on the tension to get sliced with the knife. Well, our guys chainsawed the tension and stacked up Auburn's team like next year's firewood. (see the chainsaw theme again? I'm obsessed. I'm in the car on the way to Ace now) I thoroughly enjoyed this game. We have to clinch the SEC East next week against Kentucky or it's all for naught. I feel our guys will be ready. 35-10 Dawgs and I will be there, to relish in the victory, with my damn chainsaw.
Other Highlights:
1) Penn State played their first game without Joe Paterno since 1965. Other things that haven't happened since 1965: a) Me giving a damn about a Big Ten game; b) Me allowing a man to rape a child in my presence AND not killing him with a baseball bat; c) Me drinking gluten free beer
2) Boise and Stanford both go down in unimpressive fashion, rendering the West Coast as relevant as cassette tapes, Rob Lowe, decaf coffee, sugar free brownies, Auburn's running game and Nevin Shapiro's standing reservation at Joe's Crab Shack in Miami.
3) Florida State and Miami played and nobody cared. That has not happened in my lifetime. Other things that have not happened in my lifetime: a) Watched a Braves game from 1st to the 9th inning without sleeping; b) Driven on I-285 without construction being done; and c) Left Athens without a "dude, guess what you did" story.
Well, well, well....I don't know how to start. When I saw Trooper Taylor chest bumping and towel spinning before kickoff , I prayed to God and Erk Russell that he would tear his ACL and have to go to Athens Regional, where the pro Georgia staff would blare Larry Munson highlights in his room while they sewed his knee back together with barbed wire. This guy chest bumped Nick Fairley after he injured Aaron Murray at Auburn last year, making an enemy out of the Dawgnation and especially yours truly. It's all I could think about on Saturday before the game. As I poured my Wild Turkey and Sprite (Wild Turkey in honor of our enemies, the War EaglePlainsTigersmen), I contemplated another loss to these people. Auburn. The same Auburn who copies our fight song. The same Auburn, whose roster is routinely made up of Georgians. The same Auburn with a giant alumni club in Atlanta. We could not endure another loss and I could not endure another Trooper Taylor Show. I would certainly have gone to Ace Hardware in Adairsville, bought the most expensive chainsaw they had and cut his Escalade in half. (+1 for Any Given Sunday reference)
During warmups, I saw our guys looking at Auburn's sideline and I saw some confident nodding, so I felt pretty good. I assume they were sizing up Auburn's players, or commenting on the girth of their cheerleaders, but in any event, things looked up. Auburn's band played #1 of the 4,967 songs they would play on Saturday. Seriously, these geeks never shut up. They even played when UGA was honoring some faculty during a commercial break, which I thought was extremely rude. However, I have become accustomed to this, inadequacy often breeds intolerable rudeness.
They kicked off to us and Boykin did his usual damage and got us decent field position. Murray trotted out there and picked Auburn apart with precision passing and Crowell and Carlton Thomas gashed them for 8-10 yards every touch. Marching down the field, I noticed that Trooper Taylor started his towel waving. I could see myself, standing in line at Ace Hardware amongst the good people of Adairsville, holding a nice Husqvarna with an evil grin on my face. Then approaching Auburn with that same grin, calling Harvey Updyke on his cell in prison, saying "prepare to be one-upped, you nutcase." Dad would bail me out, I'm sure of it.
Murray finds King in the end zone to make it 7-0. I'm really proud of Tavarres King, the guy has flat stepped up since Boise State.
**Sidenote: I love saying "flat" when describing actions. It's a Southern saying that adds emphasis when needed. Like when some old fan says, "That Malcolm Mitchell can flat out run, boy." It means that Malcolm Mitchell can, indeed, run very fast. Mama Kim could flat cook a sweet potato casserole. See? It works.
We kick the ball back to Auburn and the WarEaglePlainsTigersMen basically mirror us offensively. They march down the field, pass to McCalebb, pass to Blake, pass to Lutzenkirchen. Poor guy. It probably took him thirty minutes to bubble in his name on the SAT. That would explain his low score and his acceptance into Auburn. However, the dude is a pretty good tight end. Malzahn and his "smoke and mirrors" offense run a trick play, where Uzomah and Lutzenkirchen hook up for a score. Two Georgians. Grrrrrrr. Trooper's towel is in full swing, chest bumps all around......and I can smell the 2:1 oil in my chainsaw.
Murray marches us right back down the field again. Carlton Thomas is on fire. The little man from Frostproof, Florida came out to make statement, to be forgiven for his indiscretions that got him suspended last week. Statement made. He had 127 yards this day and threw several key blocks that helped Murray stay in the pocket and toss TD's all over Auburn's secondary. Michael "Mighty Whitey" Bennett catches a 40 yarder falling down, over his left shoulder to make it 14-7. The Georgia sideline erupts and Jarvis Jones's internal computer turns on and zeroes in on Clint Moseley. Shawn Williams does the same. Shawn Williams is Predator Junior, as Emory Blake would find out in the second quarter. Our defense has become a swagger infested killing machine....jaws flapping, along with dreadlocks and Jarvis Jones's shoulder gun frying quarterbacks like a six piece bucket at Church's. Abry Jones, Jenkins, Tyson, Washington and Geathers are denying the middle like an overbearing bouncer checking ID's at the old Crystal Chandelier in Rome. Auburn would have a total of 9 first downs all day. The second leading rushing team in the SEC looked like a hungover fraternity flag football team trying to run the Statute of Liberty. Inept. Incapable. Incapacitated.
The game turned on the kickoff after Mighty Whitey scored. Tre Mason took our kickoff from one yard deep in the end zone and sprints up the middle with abandon. I give the man credit, he seemed fearless....or really stupid. Quintavious "Cootie" Harrow of Columbus, Georgia was sprinting from the right side, unblocked and zeroed in on Mason's chest. Cootie unleashed a lick that sent Mason to the turf, his shoulder blades striking the ground first. The Sanford Stadium crowd, already sensing something was brewing, went berserk. A collective "ooooooohhhhhh" came forth from 92,000 people. The entire kickoff team swarmed Cootie. It's already on Youtube with 2,000 hits. Auburn returned to their sideline, tail between their legs, reminiscing about the beatdown delivered to them by the LSU Tigers courtesy of big hits on kickoffs. Little did they know, another embarrasment was coming their way. They punted quickly on that series.
We traded fumbles with Auburn at the 50 yard line. Crowell dropped a ball trying to cut around a blocker. Then on Auburn's first play, Dyer tried to execute a reverse to McCalebb, which he dropped and Geathers fell on it. Onterrio McCalebb saw Kwame coming and cleared out, he was giving up 175 pounds and 6 inches. It would have been like an anvil hitting Wile E. Coyote if Kwame landed on Onterrio. Kwame and Onterrio....sounds like a cheesy clothing store in the mall. It would be like Hollister, you walk by and are instantly high from the overpowering smell of cheap cologne. Anyhow, we drive down easily, courtesy of another great route by King and runs by Crowell and Thomas. Murray finds fullback Bruce Figgins for a ten yard completion and score to make it 21-7. I love Bruce Figgins. The man waylays people on running plays, gets little credit except for "I wouldn't want to fight Bruce Figgins," from the occasional opposing player. Trooper's towel has gone silent. In fact, I can't really see him. Somebody saw him checking Craigslist on his laptop for "Irrelevant and Useless Positions of Meaninglessness" under the bench, so that explains his absence.
Then the game got out of hand, courtesy of the defense. It was like the early 80's all over again, when we were Junkyard as hell and battered people. I swear I heard "Owner of a Lonely Heart" blaring out of the speakers of an '84 Camaro on Baldwin Street. I've said it before, I would NEVER have survived the early 80's at UGA. Too much good football + less rules + a 19-20 year old me = a massive brawl with Notre Dame fans at the 1980 National Championship and we all fall into Lake Ponchartrain fighting in the back of a pickup truck that was on fire. Auburn receives the kickoff and Quan Bray gets nowhere. They run two unsuccessful plays. On third down, Moseley bobbles the snap for a second and then fires a pass to his right. In his haste, he did not see Bacarri Rambo hiding behind his receiver. Rambo jumps the route, taking his league leading interception to the house on a zigzag run that was effectuated by a devastating block on Emory Blake by Shawn Williams. Shawn hit Blake so hard that Blake's car threw a rod back in Auburn. Shawn and Baccari are two southwest Georgia boys that bleed red and black and flat destroy people every week. To the good people of Early and Seminole County, thank you for sending us these heat seeking missiles. The sideline and the stadium exploded. We got a penalty. It didn't matter. This game was over. I picked Jeremy Brock up over my head and Gorilla pressed him, channeling my inner Ultimate Warrior from Parts Unknown.
The second half saw Murray throw a total of one pass. A heavy dose of Crowell and Thomas is all we needed. We basically double dawg dared Auburn to stop us, and they got their tongues stuck to the pole and we stole their lunch money. (+1 for Christmas Story reference) They did nothing offensively. They could not run. They could not pass. Grantham looked at Gus Malzahn, Ric Flair strutted from one hash to another, and said "Wooooooooo!" It was beautiful. Richt had a evil smirk on his face as our first team offense trotted out there again and again, battering them into submission. Payback for Fairley. Payback for the Cam Newton Show, when he blew kisses to our defense in a brash display of cockiness before the game started last year. I can't stand that guy. It ain't the money thing, it ain't the cocky attitude....I just don't like him. Speaking of not liking someone, Trooper Taylor disappeared in the second half. He took his backwards hats, towels and chest bumps and went to apply for the assistant waterboy position at Georgia State. Bill Curry would be happy to have him, I'm sure. A piece of Tech scum like Curry and a showboat like Taylor go together like Auburn and probation. It just fits.
I predicted 31-13 and I am happy to say it was worse than that. Our rivalry was voted as one of the nastiest in college football in the Sporting News and I have to agree somewhat. It only happened recently but it's definintely nasty these days. We got along with all Auburn folks, but there was an edge to this game. It was like two guys meeting a year after one stole the other's girlfriend, it's cool now but everybody is just waiting on the tension to get sliced with the knife. Well, our guys chainsawed the tension and stacked up Auburn's team like next year's firewood. (see the chainsaw theme again? I'm obsessed. I'm in the car on the way to Ace now) I thoroughly enjoyed this game. We have to clinch the SEC East next week against Kentucky or it's all for naught. I feel our guys will be ready. 35-10 Dawgs and I will be there, to relish in the victory, with my damn chainsaw.
Other Highlights:
1) Penn State played their first game without Joe Paterno since 1965. Other things that haven't happened since 1965: a) Me giving a damn about a Big Ten game; b) Me allowing a man to rape a child in my presence AND not killing him with a baseball bat; c) Me drinking gluten free beer
2) Boise and Stanford both go down in unimpressive fashion, rendering the West Coast as relevant as cassette tapes, Rob Lowe, decaf coffee, sugar free brownies, Auburn's running game and Nevin Shapiro's standing reservation at Joe's Crab Shack in Miami.
3) Florida State and Miami played and nobody cared. That has not happened in my lifetime. Other things that have not happened in my lifetime: a) Watched a Braves game from 1st to the 9th inning without sleeping; b) Driven on I-285 without construction being done; and c) Left Athens without a "dude, guess what you did" story.
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About Me
- Brad
- I'm good at people watching and the memorization of useless facts. I'm voracious eater, reader, Crossfitter and Dawg fan. Shamelessly devoted to the cause of making 9-5 not suck so bad.