Ahhhhhh. My coffee tastes better today. My sausage and eggs tasted like the best 44 oz Porterhouse ever cooked. The birds are chirping, the squirrels are staying off my bird feeder and it ain't all that cold outside. Yes, we have defeated the hated Gators, as yours truly predicted a week ago. Not without its roadblocks, this victory was sweet nonetheless. Sweet because we broke a losing streak. Sweet because Florida's fringe fanbase is unbearable to deal with. Sweet because Mark Richt manned up on fourth down. Sweet because we stuck it to that turncoat, sour grapes, heart attack-in-waiting Will Muschamp. His remarks this week regarding UGA were inexcusable, unforgettable and excellent bulletin board material. Interesting though, Will is now 0-5 as a coach against UGA (he was an assistant at Auburn and LSU). It is just sad to me that a former defensive captain, from Rome freakin' Georgia, could disparage his alma mater in public. So I have a message for you, Will....and I'll put it in terms you can understand.
"&(&(*IHKJKLJSNSSKKSKIJSMJPK<OIIJEMEHHENSP:KOMS"
(that's Tasmanian Devil for "you suck and when Jeremy Foley fires you after the 2012 season and you get a job coaching defensive backs at Slippery Rock University, every bridge into Georgia will be nice and burned for you."
Anyhow, moving along. The first half was the stuff of legend.....if a legend is watching a Twilight marathon with fifteen teenagers, all equipped with Iphones with "Gold Digger" as their ringtone and every hour on the hour, they all scratch a fork across a plate in unison. I could not count how many times I looked at my Dad and said "here we go again." The opening kickoff was taken by Florida and ran straight up the gut to the 50. Luckily, a holding penalty negated it. It would be the only kickoff that went in our favor all day. The first play from scrimmage was a 78 yard pass and run by Jeff Demps, who was luckily only at 90%, so Brandon Boykin was able to haul him in from behind. Gary Danielson reminded us that Jeff Demps was hurt about 3,465 times before the next play from scrimmage took place.
I swear, I thought Gary was going to walk down to the field and propose to Demps on one knee. Verne could be the best man and Chris "Time to Die, Bitch" Rainey could be the ringbearer, since he is about 5'3. They could have honeymooned at the illustrious Adam's Mark hotel in Jacksonville and then lived at Demp's free house in Gainesville.....oh wait, Auburn is in two weeks, my bad.
Then our defense stood up and said "Naw, dawg." They held the vaunted Gator offense to no score, as a limping John Brantley misfired a couple of passes, Rainey dropped one and their replacement kicker booted one about 15 yards wide right. The announcers then made light of the fact that Charlie Weis was in the booth calling the game, rather than on the sidelines. "So he can get a better view of what's working," says Verne. Wrong, Verne, on all accounts. I have it on good authority that Lang's Seafood of Kingsland, Georgia was providing an all you can eat buffet up there. Men of Weisian girth do not miss all you can eat buffets. It just does not happen. When Rainey dropped that pass, he ate 42 popcorn shrimp in one bite. When other assistants cast a judgmental eye, he said "lay off me, I'm starving." (+1 for SNL reference)
A couple of series passed by without event, and then Florida broke the drought with a gutsy 4th and 19 pass play to the end zone, caught by Reed. Our safety completely missed the coverage and stood there like a bump on a pickle as Ogletree, our linebacker, got burned on the mismatch. Weis polishes off two catfish filets and radioes to Muschamp, "Damn Will, they don't have any tartar up here." We get the ball back and end up with a field goal by Walsh. Field goals ain't gonna get it done, we all know that and Mark Richt knows it too. We kick off and Demps takes it on 2, runs to the left hash, and bolts down the sideline untouched for a score. Gary Danielson meets him on the sideline, gets down on one knee with a ring, while five jort wearing trailer trash girls stand behind him and say, "He went to Jared." I pour myself a nice gin and gin, walk into the yard to keep from cussing in front of mom, and stare into the pasture. 17-3 and we are doing nothing on offense. A turnover. Walsh misses the first of two field goals. Our special teams are abominable. I am going to just walk through the barbed wire fence, find the first Brahma bull I see, and kick him squarely in the face. Getting trampled to death by an enraged 2,000 bull could not be worse than watching this.
Just before the half, Florida gets the ball back yet again. I draw up in a knot, imagining the 24-3 that is about to happen, and listening to the "Gator Bait" chant, which rivals "Rocky Top" as the most broken of broken records in the SEC. The defense, as it has done for the last month, holds and forces a punt. We have time for a score. Crowell and company get down to the red zone and bog down. It's 4th down and our maligned field goal kicker stays on the sideline. Richt is going for the touchdown because he knows it is now or never. A season and a career are on the line. Murray takes the snap and heaves it to our freshman receiver Michael "Mighty Whitey" Bennett, who comes down with it for the touchdown. 17-10! Gary Danielson says "we have a new ballgame!" Jeff Demps files for divorce, citing "irreconcilible differences" and sends Gary into a shame spiral. "He's gonna get the house and my 401(k)," Gary says to himself. Charlie Weis drinks hush puppy batter through a straw until security stops him.
The second half WAS stuff of legend...and by legend, I mean Jarvis Jones mutilating Florida's O-line and Richard Samuel manning up in a way that will be talked about for years. We owned Florida in the second half. Todd Grantham now has a half interest in Will Muschamp's house in Gainesville. President Adams set up a bogus research facility in Jeremy Foley's backyard, so he can hide his newest dishwasher that the alumni paid for. Florida gained 26 yards in the second half. Brantley misfired all over the place. They tried Demps in a misdirection at the goal line and he was knocked into December 2009 by Sanders Commings, causing Gary to leave the booth and attempt hari kari on the banks of the St. John's. Jarvis Jones looked at Florida's left tackle, Xavier Nixon, and said "here's my rent" and went to live in Florida's backfield. He abused Nixon so badly that Nixon filed a temporary restraining order in Duval County. Don't worry, Jarvis, I'm going to get Bobby Lee Cook to defend you.
We score again on a 4th down play where Tavarres King outjumped Florida's cornerback and tiptoed in bounds to make it 17-17. We kick off again and Andre Debose gets 10...20...30...40....57 yards to our twenty. As I empty my bottle of gin, I just grit my teeth. I've given up on the kickoff team at this point, they are like a bad dream. It's like dealing with fire ants, you can wipe out nest after nest, but they come back every year. Maybe the defense will hold again. The line allows no running back to get past the line of scrimmage and our secondary has their receivers on lock down. Rainey is limping around because Brandon Boykin rolled him up earlier. Plus, Jarvis Jones's new house gets in Brantley's way when he tries to throw. They settle for a field goal. It's 20-17 but I tell you, I'm feeling good. Charlie is looking for Maalox, it's gotta be the crab cakes.
Crowell has a shin contusion and is sitting this series out, so here comes Richard Samuel. There's eleven minutes to go and everything is on the line. Richard has not had much success running the ball this season, until this night. A fire inside Richard Samuel flickered, went from pilot light to raging inferno, and that man decided that Florida would not stop him. He hit holes harder than Chris Rainey hits his girlfriend. One play told us all we needed to know about Richard Samuel. He plowed over Jon Bostic, Florida's largest linebacker, and stood up, looked to the crowd and did the "Hulk Hogan: I'm about to gorilla press this P.O.S. right here" dance. It was over. The young man from Cass, asked to switch positions three times in his career, maligned by some Dawg fans for running too tentatively, will not be stopped. He scores on a ten yard run where Florida's defenders tripped over each other trying to get out of the way. 24-20 and your truly runs into the yard and stares into the pasture again. I'm gonna kick the bull, but this time, I'm gonna go down swinging.
Florida gets the ball and we hold them again and again. Butler has a couple of really bad punts but it doesn't matter. The Predator, aka Jarvis Jones, flat out destroys Nixon on a fourth down play and sacks Brantley. No, i saw the shoulder gun come out and fry Nixon, I really did. We get the ball yet again, with enough time left to give Florida a chance if we go three and out. Murray trots us out there with Samuel standing alone in the backfield. Handoff to Richard, second down and long. I'm stressed beyond belief. We have to pass in the fourth quarter in Jacksonville. I remember a few passes in Jacksonville in the fourth quarter, some dropped, some intercepted and returned for a touchdown, very few resulting in anything good. Murray takes the snap and heaves the rock to Chris Conley, of Dallas, Georgia. A true freshman. Chris outjumps their corner and comes down with the first down and then some. Conley swaggers to the sideline like a fifth year senior.
Then it was the moment that I will never forget. We are fourth and three around their fifteen and we need a first down to seal the game. There is no hiding what we are doing. Murray hands the ball to Richard, who steamrolls to the one yard line before he is brought down, dragging three Florida defenders to the ground with him. First down and the ballgame is over. Richard is mobbed by his teammates as he limps with a sprained ankle. The crowd goes crazy and players run to the stands, as Richard is helped off the field by medical staff. Although he is hurt, he is smiling. The young man from my hometown, 17 years old when he started at UGA, put the team on his back and willed us to victory. Chills ran down the collective spines of everyone at our party. Tears were in my eyes. In a fitting end, Muschamp barely looks at Richt at the handshake. Richt barely acknowledges him as well. Loosely translated, in Tasmanian Devil, that meant "Richard Samuel just dominated you, I'm going to the locker room to celebrate, be sure to get Charlie some Pepto Bismol because Lang's uses bacon grease to make their biscuits."
Other Highlights:
1) Clemson does their annual choke job and loses to Tech. Dabo Swinney withdraws from the South Carolina governor's race.
2) Texas Tech, after beating Oklahoma last week, loses to Iowa State 41-7. Talk about a hangover, that is like the day after 25 Jagerbombs and you wake up with a hospital bracelet on your wrist and a phone number written in Sharpie on your stomach.
3) Wisconsin loses to Ohio State. It was awesome background noise for my afternoon nap.
Dawgs Homecoming on Saturday. New Mexico State better watch out, or they might have to rename their school: "The Jarvis Jones Center for Concussion Research." Way to sic 'em, Dawgs. And Coach Richt...this doubting Thomas owes you an apology. I am sorry. Good luck next week.
Monday, October 31, 2011
Monday, October 24, 2011
Recap of the Weekend....Getting by on the bye week
So, the Dawgs were off on Saturday. As were the Gators. And the Gamecocks. Kentucky played Jacksonville State and Vandy played Army. The SEC East was quieter than my radio when I hear post 2001 Kenny Chesney song come on. The only team to tee it up was Tennessee, who played a tune up game with Alabama, and was promptly destroyed 37-6. They played Alabama close for a half, simply on adrenaline/hatred, and then the Tide woke up and the rout was on. I saw Saban's face as they ran into the locker room at halftime and I knew it was over. He looked like Robert Patrick in Terminator 2: Judgment Day and Tennessee was John Connor, except he gets caught this time and the Terminator makes mincemeat out of him. I swear, after the game ended, I saw Saban's arm morph into a sword and then back to an arm again.
Speaking of mincemeat, Auburn was turned into Spam by LSU on Saturday. There was a five minute interval where LSU scored 21 points, delivered two devastating hits on kickoffs, caused and recovered a fumble, and made Gene Chizik suddenly realize that he needed another $180,000 and possibly a hand grenade to have a prayer in this game. Alas, it was not to be. It turned out to be a snoozefest and poor Vern and Gary had to invent topics to discuss as they painfully watched the game end. I was fully expecting a "What is Britney doing with her life?" comment. LSU and Alabama are head and shoulders above the rest of us, and the November 5th game is shaping up to be epic.
I spent my weekend in Franklin, North Carolina. What a beautiful town and the western North Carolina mountains are something to see in the Fall. I went to Franklin's annual Pumpkin/Halloween festival on Saturday, which was awesome for people watching. There was banjo picking, funnel cakes at every corner and some of the local high schoolers did the "Thriller Dance" in the town square. It was disturbing to see so many Tennessee and Florida fans roaming about, though. They were EVERYWHERE. I understood the Tennessee contingent, as Franklin is a stone's throw from the Tennessee line. But Florida? After asking around, I found out that Franklin is a summer destination for snowbirds who live in Florida for half the year and then escape the heat in the mountains. A bunch of old Yankees, with skin like a Naugahyde couch, in their most loud blue and orange. Tennessee people in their loudest, Cheetos orange garb. I thought it uncanny, however, that somehow all of these people got together and decided to be hick trash for Halloween. It's amazing how the human spirit works, it really is.
I love rural North Carolina though. It is the quintessential South. Mountains, barbeque, moonshine, farms and roads called "Leon Caldwell Avenue" or "Burnt Church Road." Rural areas do not have subdivisions called "Rolling Meadows" or "Whispering Springs." They name their roads after people or events, which I love. Drive through Eastern Cobb County, Georgia. Once you navigate through the strip malls and the red lights, you will get to the residential areas. They have all these ridiculous names that seem to imply that you could possibly be in Italy or on some mountainside in the Rockies. Nope. I guess the names make the residents happy.
"Where do you guys live?"
"Rolling River Estates."
"Ooooooh, that sounds nice. I bet your Publix is really awesome."
I live in Cobb and I say this with all confidence: It is a rule that in suburban Atlanta, you must have a Publix every 500 yards. And a Starbucks (which I dig). However, it's so unbelievably homogeneous and uninspiring, kind of like a Georgia Tech football game. (who got spanked by Miami this weekend, which caused yours truly to blissfully consume three racks of ribs from Rib Country)
So, what are the rules for rural areas? We sure did not have a Publix. Or red lights. Or Starbucks. Honestly, there are not many rules for us. We are not homogeneous. Take Cassville for example (disclaimer: yes, I know we have subdivisions now). We had one store, lots of barbed wire fence, roads named after families and areas, one cemetery, three churches, a post office and a fire station. We had a county dumpster close by (with a spraypainted sign that said "No Dumpster Diving" of course) and we had several trailer parks, which is a given down here. There is also a rule that everyone must grow at least one tomato plant, at least one family member must actually like turnip greens and of course, everybody is at least 1/32 Cherokee.
Franklin was much bigger but it still had that small town feel. The only problem was the lack of a Waffle House. They had Huddle House. I committed sacrilege and actually ate there. When I asked for ketchup and the waitress handed me a bottle of Hunt's, I just looked to the sky and said "Be not far from me O Lord, O my strength, haste thee to help me." (+1 for Saving Private Ryan reference) (this is one of the prayers that Barry Pepper uttered before he smoked a Nazi during the Normandy landing) Hunt's ketchup is like going to the beach for vacation and it rains every day. If they served Pepsi, I would have gone bulimic in the bathroom and just bailed.
There is one constant in small towns and that is the local nut. The guy that everybody knows and understands that there is SOMETHING wrong with him, but nobody is quite sure what. It may be physical or mental, but he just can't get right. (+1 for Life reference) We had several over the years, including one man who was about 6'8. He used to roam around Cassville in the 60's and 70's and refused to cross Highway 41 on foot so he would crawl through a drainage ditch that ran under the highway. He would do work on people's farms for money and then spend it all on candy. Once, he was told to dig post holes for a new pasture that was being prepared. The farmer, a relative of mine, unfortunately did not inform him of exactly how many post holes he needed, so when he returned at the end of the day, he found the man in a 15 foot post hole, still digging. He would go around town at Christmas and everybody always had a gift for him and my grandmother used to cook him an entire pot of grits, which he would consume on their doorstep with all his presents scattered around. We had another guy for about ten years that wore a Santa Claus outfit and carried around a bucket everywhere he went. I never knew his name and I never looked in that bucket. Then there was another man who would walk between Cassville and White daily, muttering to himself. I would see him at the Waffle House from time to time, bumming cigarettes from customers and occasionally affording a cup of coffee. The list goes on and on, so maybe Cassville had nut(s) plural, but at least we were original.
Then of course, you had the meth addicts. They were less endearing than the crazies, but they were entertaining just the same. There was one lady who was hooked on meth that used to come in the store and want ice cream and candy at 6 AM. She had the telltale scabs on her arms and face, the rotting teeth and the faraway look. I was pretty young back then and I asked my Dad what was wrong with her, he said, "my first thought would be....a lot." (+1 for ConAir reference) She would buy 2-3 Snickers bars and plow through them on the bench and then walk back home. One day, she just started walking down the double yellow line on Cassville Road in traffic, singing "Seventeen" by Stevie Nicks. I just walked out there and escorted her home, and she never broke stride, "just like the one winged dooooove!"
Other Highlights:
1) Wisconsin lost to Michigan State on a Hail Mary pass with 0:00 left on the clock. That's one more undefeated team down and the second time in my life that I did not use a Big Ten game for background noise as I napped.
2) A Franklin resident had a tractor parked out in front of his pasture with a plywood sign that said "Mahindra Tractors = JUNK" The offending tractor was disassembled and had birds nesting on it. Mahindra is located in Mumbai, India. Indian tractors? What's next? Cream of Wheat in the Waffle House? Forgettaboutit.
3) Occupy Atlanta is upon us. Since I am apolitical, I will not launch into a tirade about what a massive waste of time this liberal, pinko nonsense really is. Get a job, Democrats! =) (if you do not realize that I am joking, my brother will come by and hit you in the head with a tack hammer, because you're a retard) (+1 for Tommy Boy reference)
4) Booked another trip to NYC, which means three things....cocktails, pizza, cannolis, steak, Broadway, the NBA store, Mickey Mantle's, the 21 Club, Central Park, Katz's Deli, Gramercy Park Hotel, Beacon Theater, McSorley's, Sabrett hot dogs at 4 AM, and Little Italy manicotti with a Peroni to wash it down. (I'm using Otis Nixon arithmetic here)
5) The NBA owners and players union met for 16 hours straight to try and resolve this lockout. Nothing was accomplished. Guys are talking about starting their own League and more and more are going overseas. In 16 hours, I could have eaten five steaks, watched three football games, juggled my fantasy team, written 10 blogs, ran a mile and worked on my deadlift personal record. Just sayin.
It's Georgia - Florida week, or as I've come to call it, Halloween. I'm not saying it's the biggest game of the year, I'm saying it's the most pivotal. If we lay an egg down there again, look for Richt to be gone after the Tech game. If we pull it off and somehow beat Auburn and Tech, then we will likely meet LSU/Bama in the Georgia Dome. Then we will need Lady Luck, Erk Russell, Jesus, George Patton, Chuck Norris, the ghost army from The Return of the King, and a big game from Crowell to pull that one off. I've been on the horn all week with Chuck Norris, so stay tuned. Have a great week.
Speaking of mincemeat, Auburn was turned into Spam by LSU on Saturday. There was a five minute interval where LSU scored 21 points, delivered two devastating hits on kickoffs, caused and recovered a fumble, and made Gene Chizik suddenly realize that he needed another $180,000 and possibly a hand grenade to have a prayer in this game. Alas, it was not to be. It turned out to be a snoozefest and poor Vern and Gary had to invent topics to discuss as they painfully watched the game end. I was fully expecting a "What is Britney doing with her life?" comment. LSU and Alabama are head and shoulders above the rest of us, and the November 5th game is shaping up to be epic.
I spent my weekend in Franklin, North Carolina. What a beautiful town and the western North Carolina mountains are something to see in the Fall. I went to Franklin's annual Pumpkin/Halloween festival on Saturday, which was awesome for people watching. There was banjo picking, funnel cakes at every corner and some of the local high schoolers did the "Thriller Dance" in the town square. It was disturbing to see so many Tennessee and Florida fans roaming about, though. They were EVERYWHERE. I understood the Tennessee contingent, as Franklin is a stone's throw from the Tennessee line. But Florida? After asking around, I found out that Franklin is a summer destination for snowbirds who live in Florida for half the year and then escape the heat in the mountains. A bunch of old Yankees, with skin like a Naugahyde couch, in their most loud blue and orange. Tennessee people in their loudest, Cheetos orange garb. I thought it uncanny, however, that somehow all of these people got together and decided to be hick trash for Halloween. It's amazing how the human spirit works, it really is.
I love rural North Carolina though. It is the quintessential South. Mountains, barbeque, moonshine, farms and roads called "Leon Caldwell Avenue" or "Burnt Church Road." Rural areas do not have subdivisions called "Rolling Meadows" or "Whispering Springs." They name their roads after people or events, which I love. Drive through Eastern Cobb County, Georgia. Once you navigate through the strip malls and the red lights, you will get to the residential areas. They have all these ridiculous names that seem to imply that you could possibly be in Italy or on some mountainside in the Rockies. Nope. I guess the names make the residents happy.
"Where do you guys live?"
"Rolling River Estates."
"Ooooooh, that sounds nice. I bet your Publix is really awesome."
I live in Cobb and I say this with all confidence: It is a rule that in suburban Atlanta, you must have a Publix every 500 yards. And a Starbucks (which I dig). However, it's so unbelievably homogeneous and uninspiring, kind of like a Georgia Tech football game. (who got spanked by Miami this weekend, which caused yours truly to blissfully consume three racks of ribs from Rib Country)
So, what are the rules for rural areas? We sure did not have a Publix. Or red lights. Or Starbucks. Honestly, there are not many rules for us. We are not homogeneous. Take Cassville for example (disclaimer: yes, I know we have subdivisions now). We had one store, lots of barbed wire fence, roads named after families and areas, one cemetery, three churches, a post office and a fire station. We had a county dumpster close by (with a spraypainted sign that said "No Dumpster Diving" of course) and we had several trailer parks, which is a given down here. There is also a rule that everyone must grow at least one tomato plant, at least one family member must actually like turnip greens and of course, everybody is at least 1/32 Cherokee.
Franklin was much bigger but it still had that small town feel. The only problem was the lack of a Waffle House. They had Huddle House. I committed sacrilege and actually ate there. When I asked for ketchup and the waitress handed me a bottle of Hunt's, I just looked to the sky and said "Be not far from me O Lord, O my strength, haste thee to help me." (+1 for Saving Private Ryan reference) (this is one of the prayers that Barry Pepper uttered before he smoked a Nazi during the Normandy landing) Hunt's ketchup is like going to the beach for vacation and it rains every day. If they served Pepsi, I would have gone bulimic in the bathroom and just bailed.
There is one constant in small towns and that is the local nut. The guy that everybody knows and understands that there is SOMETHING wrong with him, but nobody is quite sure what. It may be physical or mental, but he just can't get right. (+1 for Life reference) We had several over the years, including one man who was about 6'8. He used to roam around Cassville in the 60's and 70's and refused to cross Highway 41 on foot so he would crawl through a drainage ditch that ran under the highway. He would do work on people's farms for money and then spend it all on candy. Once, he was told to dig post holes for a new pasture that was being prepared. The farmer, a relative of mine, unfortunately did not inform him of exactly how many post holes he needed, so when he returned at the end of the day, he found the man in a 15 foot post hole, still digging. He would go around town at Christmas and everybody always had a gift for him and my grandmother used to cook him an entire pot of grits, which he would consume on their doorstep with all his presents scattered around. We had another guy for about ten years that wore a Santa Claus outfit and carried around a bucket everywhere he went. I never knew his name and I never looked in that bucket. Then there was another man who would walk between Cassville and White daily, muttering to himself. I would see him at the Waffle House from time to time, bumming cigarettes from customers and occasionally affording a cup of coffee. The list goes on and on, so maybe Cassville had nut(s) plural, but at least we were original.
Then of course, you had the meth addicts. They were less endearing than the crazies, but they were entertaining just the same. There was one lady who was hooked on meth that used to come in the store and want ice cream and candy at 6 AM. She had the telltale scabs on her arms and face, the rotting teeth and the faraway look. I was pretty young back then and I asked my Dad what was wrong with her, he said, "my first thought would be....a lot." (+1 for ConAir reference) She would buy 2-3 Snickers bars and plow through them on the bench and then walk back home. One day, she just started walking down the double yellow line on Cassville Road in traffic, singing "Seventeen" by Stevie Nicks. I just walked out there and escorted her home, and she never broke stride, "just like the one winged dooooove!"
Other Highlights:
1) Wisconsin lost to Michigan State on a Hail Mary pass with 0:00 left on the clock. That's one more undefeated team down and the second time in my life that I did not use a Big Ten game for background noise as I napped.
2) A Franklin resident had a tractor parked out in front of his pasture with a plywood sign that said "Mahindra Tractors = JUNK" The offending tractor was disassembled and had birds nesting on it. Mahindra is located in Mumbai, India. Indian tractors? What's next? Cream of Wheat in the Waffle House? Forgettaboutit.
3) Occupy Atlanta is upon us. Since I am apolitical, I will not launch into a tirade about what a massive waste of time this liberal, pinko nonsense really is. Get a job, Democrats! =) (if you do not realize that I am joking, my brother will come by and hit you in the head with a tack hammer, because you're a retard) (+1 for Tommy Boy reference)
4) Booked another trip to NYC, which means three things....cocktails, pizza, cannolis, steak, Broadway, the NBA store, Mickey Mantle's, the 21 Club, Central Park, Katz's Deli, Gramercy Park Hotel, Beacon Theater, McSorley's, Sabrett hot dogs at 4 AM, and Little Italy manicotti with a Peroni to wash it down. (I'm using Otis Nixon arithmetic here)
5) The NBA owners and players union met for 16 hours straight to try and resolve this lockout. Nothing was accomplished. Guys are talking about starting their own League and more and more are going overseas. In 16 hours, I could have eaten five steaks, watched three football games, juggled my fantasy team, written 10 blogs, ran a mile and worked on my deadlift personal record. Just sayin.
It's Georgia - Florida week, or as I've come to call it, Halloween. I'm not saying it's the biggest game of the year, I'm saying it's the most pivotal. If we lay an egg down there again, look for Richt to be gone after the Tech game. If we pull it off and somehow beat Auburn and Tech, then we will likely meet LSU/Bama in the Georgia Dome. Then we will need Lady Luck, Erk Russell, Jesus, George Patton, Chuck Norris, the ghost army from The Return of the King, and a big game from Crowell to pull that one off. I've been on the horn all week with Chuck Norris, so stay tuned. Have a great week.
Wednesday, October 19, 2011
Professional Sports: In a state of flux....capacitor.
Flash back to 1989. It's October, and the World Series is between Oakland and San Francisco. The Bay Bridge Series. The Bash Brothers. Will the Thrill. Jose Uribe. Brett Butler. Walt Weiss. Dennis Eckersley's mustache. All were in place for a great series between two teams that had little trouble dispatching their opponents in their respective League Championship Series. Although the Series was marked by an earthquake and domination by the A's (swept the Giants 4-0 and it was never in doubt), it was this baseball fan's dream. I watched every game, owned every single player's trading card (Topps, Fleer, Upper Deck, Bowman....I hoarded them) and knew the stats and hometown of every guy on the field. This was nothing new, as I was religious about sports back then. The NBA Finals and The Super Bowl were no different. I cried when the Pistons won the Finals in '88'- and '89 because I hated Laimbeer so much. I watched Joe Montana connect with Jerry Rice again and again in the '90 Super Bowl, slaughtering the Broncos 55-10. From 1987-1997, you could not keep me away from it. Emmitt and the Cowboys smacking the Bills down 52-17. The 1990 Reds who somehow pulled out a World Series win over the heavily favored A's. Jordan and the Bulls over the Blazers in 1992 and the Suns in 1993. Nique windmill slamming in the old Omni. Aaaah, the good ol days.
Then something happened. A disturbance in the Force (+6 for Star Wars reference, since I'm sure it was said in all of them) occurred.
**Sidenote: Sir Alec Guinness (Obi Wan Kenobi) has one of the all time greatest lines in the first Star Wars. He, Luke, C3PO and R2D2 are standing on a hill above Mos Eisley, where they first meet Han Solo. Kenobi says aloud to the group, "Mos Eisley spaceport...you will never find a more wretched hive of scum and villainy. We must be cautious." I swear I heard somebody say this when I was passing through Acworth once....or was it Jonesboro?
Sorry for the digression. Anyhow, I got older and more conscious about my surroundings. I watched too much TV, logged on to Prodigy (remember Prodigy? 37 seconds to connect. Woohooo.) and learned too much about the personal lives of the players. Heroes retired. Steroids. Lockouts and strikes. Contract disputes. Voila....I was done. It was not a one day decision where I just decided to stop caring, it just sort of faded away, like the graduation rates from my high school. The information age completely annihilated my interest in professional sports. Sounds oxymoronic, right? Wrong. Ignorance is bliss when it comes to other's lives. Of this, I am certain.
Do I really need to know that Jordan gambled on golf? Or the fact that Mickey Mantle drank constantly, or Jerry Rice said a cuss word in an interview three years ago? Hell no. I don't care. Do we need to be inundated with talking heads discussing everything from T.O.'s newest "hey, look at me!" antics to Ozzie Guillen's latest tirade? No. It does not matter. Derek Jeter may be a womanizer, or not. He may drink a lot, carouse with multiple women and vote for Rick Perry. It had no bearing on his unbelievable putout of Jeremy Giambi in 2001. It had no bearing on his 3,000th hit. Nor did it effect the numerous World Series rings that now adorn his fingers.
I bought into all that nonsense, though. I even lost interest in the NBA for awhile. I stopped collecting cards, my posters came off the walls, my stat memorizations ended. Jordan was gone. Nique was gone. Instead of seeing Allen Iverson the player, I saw "hey, there's the guy who hates practice, maybe beats his girlfriend sometimes and can't get along with his coaches." I didn't see the unbelievable ability. I didn't see the toughness, where he charged into the lane against bigger men and played hurt. I thought of all the talk shows, the breaking news stories and the internet fodder. Yeah, he may not be the best guy in the world. He may have domestic problems. But at the end of the day, I should have just enjoyed watching him and now he's gone.
I miss the old days. Where sports news was reported without the personal diatribes, the character flaws meaning more than home runs or touchdowns, and the words of non-competitors carrying more weight than the competitors. Going back to Mickey Mantle, when I was a kid, he was all my Dad ever talked about when it came to baseball. I believed the 1961 Yankees were the greatest baseball team ever. (I still do, but it's a dead heat with the '98 Yankees and the '27 Yankees, all things considered) Dad never mentioned the drinking, the carousing, and the self destructive behavior. It was known back then, but not reported, or at least not to the magnitude of today's media. People left them alone. Heck, Mickey used to walk to Yankee Stadium before games. If they got in a bar fight the night before, so what? If he hit three home runs to beat Cleveland, the Bronx was happy. He could go home and get cussed out by his wife later, it was of no concern to the Pinstriped fanbase. Obviously, the Mick did just fine in his career, as did many of those Yankee players, who were just as wild as he. If they existed now, they would be demonized and picked apart by everyone. (Don't read the newest Mantle book called "The Last Boy," it focuses on his personal life and his shortcomings much more than his baseball career)
So, I've decided to get in my DeLorean (aka my 1997 Ford Ranger from high school) get to 88 miles per hour and go back in time. Back when I did not know about the athletes, I just enjoyed their accomplishments. Like Sir Charles once said, "I am not a role model." He was crucified for this statement, but I could not agree more. He was a fallible man playing a kid's game for millions of dollars. He is not there to teach life lessons, he is there to win and make money (in no particular order, but Charles did plenty of both). I am there to witness these events, not to analyze his political beliefs and his rap sheet. I watched every NBA game I could this season. I watch the NFL and MLB again. I'm talking smack to my friend Vinny about the Red Sox choking away the wild card. Why? Because I care. Yankees vs. Red Sox is a bitter rivalry and a monumental disaster like that one cannot go unmentioned. I'm not focusing on the contract problems, who is whining about their pay, who got drunk in the 6th inning, nor am I listening to the talking heads issue their opinions about post game interviews and such. I'm getting behind my teams. I'm enjoying every touchdown, every dunk and every home run again.
I'm back where Shawn Kemp just has a high top fade and a 45 inch vertical. And it's so nice to be back.
Then something happened. A disturbance in the Force (+6 for Star Wars reference, since I'm sure it was said in all of them) occurred.
**Sidenote: Sir Alec Guinness (Obi Wan Kenobi) has one of the all time greatest lines in the first Star Wars. He, Luke, C3PO and R2D2 are standing on a hill above Mos Eisley, where they first meet Han Solo. Kenobi says aloud to the group, "Mos Eisley spaceport...you will never find a more wretched hive of scum and villainy. We must be cautious." I swear I heard somebody say this when I was passing through Acworth once....or was it Jonesboro?
Sorry for the digression. Anyhow, I got older and more conscious about my surroundings. I watched too much TV, logged on to Prodigy (remember Prodigy? 37 seconds to connect. Woohooo.) and learned too much about the personal lives of the players. Heroes retired. Steroids. Lockouts and strikes. Contract disputes. Voila....I was done. It was not a one day decision where I just decided to stop caring, it just sort of faded away, like the graduation rates from my high school. The information age completely annihilated my interest in professional sports. Sounds oxymoronic, right? Wrong. Ignorance is bliss when it comes to other's lives. Of this, I am certain.
Do I really need to know that Jordan gambled on golf? Or the fact that Mickey Mantle drank constantly, or Jerry Rice said a cuss word in an interview three years ago? Hell no. I don't care. Do we need to be inundated with talking heads discussing everything from T.O.'s newest "hey, look at me!" antics to Ozzie Guillen's latest tirade? No. It does not matter. Derek Jeter may be a womanizer, or not. He may drink a lot, carouse with multiple women and vote for Rick Perry. It had no bearing on his unbelievable putout of Jeremy Giambi in 2001. It had no bearing on his 3,000th hit. Nor did it effect the numerous World Series rings that now adorn his fingers.
I bought into all that nonsense, though. I even lost interest in the NBA for awhile. I stopped collecting cards, my posters came off the walls, my stat memorizations ended. Jordan was gone. Nique was gone. Instead of seeing Allen Iverson the player, I saw "hey, there's the guy who hates practice, maybe beats his girlfriend sometimes and can't get along with his coaches." I didn't see the unbelievable ability. I didn't see the toughness, where he charged into the lane against bigger men and played hurt. I thought of all the talk shows, the breaking news stories and the internet fodder. Yeah, he may not be the best guy in the world. He may have domestic problems. But at the end of the day, I should have just enjoyed watching him and now he's gone.
I miss the old days. Where sports news was reported without the personal diatribes, the character flaws meaning more than home runs or touchdowns, and the words of non-competitors carrying more weight than the competitors. Going back to Mickey Mantle, when I was a kid, he was all my Dad ever talked about when it came to baseball. I believed the 1961 Yankees were the greatest baseball team ever. (I still do, but it's a dead heat with the '98 Yankees and the '27 Yankees, all things considered) Dad never mentioned the drinking, the carousing, and the self destructive behavior. It was known back then, but not reported, or at least not to the magnitude of today's media. People left them alone. Heck, Mickey used to walk to Yankee Stadium before games. If they got in a bar fight the night before, so what? If he hit three home runs to beat Cleveland, the Bronx was happy. He could go home and get cussed out by his wife later, it was of no concern to the Pinstriped fanbase. Obviously, the Mick did just fine in his career, as did many of those Yankee players, who were just as wild as he. If they existed now, they would be demonized and picked apart by everyone. (Don't read the newest Mantle book called "The Last Boy," it focuses on his personal life and his shortcomings much more than his baseball career)
So, I've decided to get in my DeLorean (aka my 1997 Ford Ranger from high school) get to 88 miles per hour and go back in time. Back when I did not know about the athletes, I just enjoyed their accomplishments. Like Sir Charles once said, "I am not a role model." He was crucified for this statement, but I could not agree more. He was a fallible man playing a kid's game for millions of dollars. He is not there to teach life lessons, he is there to win and make money (in no particular order, but Charles did plenty of both). I am there to witness these events, not to analyze his political beliefs and his rap sheet. I watched every NBA game I could this season. I watch the NFL and MLB again. I'm talking smack to my friend Vinny about the Red Sox choking away the wild card. Why? Because I care. Yankees vs. Red Sox is a bitter rivalry and a monumental disaster like that one cannot go unmentioned. I'm not focusing on the contract problems, who is whining about their pay, who got drunk in the 6th inning, nor am I listening to the talking heads issue their opinions about post game interviews and such. I'm getting behind my teams. I'm enjoying every touchdown, every dunk and every home run again.
I'm back where Shawn Kemp just has a high top fade and a 45 inch vertical. And it's so nice to be back.
Monday, October 17, 2011
Recap of the Weekend...or 5-2 feels like flat Coke and cheap whiskey
Mental taxation. That is the phrase I use to describe the debauched, uninspired, perplexing and fallacious game that the Georgia Bulldogs played on Saturday. Notice I did not say "Dawgs." They don't deserve the moniker "Dawgs." There was nothing junkyard about this game, it just belonged in one. We have laid some eggs in Nashville, of this there is no doubt, but this one was a whole dozen of eggs. Big, brown, organic eggs for you Paleo dieters out there. I rank this game up there with our 2006 and 1994 losses to Vandy. Yes, we won on the scoreboard on Satruday and that's all that really matters....but we lost everywhere else.
There is very little worth mentioning about this game. Bobo called lateral runs all night long, our top RB sat out the first quarter because Coach "loves him" (whatever that means), and the O-line was marginal at best. The lone bright spots were receivers Marlon Brown and Michael Bennett, who flourished in the absence of Malcolm Mitchell. The defense was at its most porous, giving up over 200 yards rushing to an offense that was held to 4 yards rushing by Alabama and 41 yards rushing by South Carolina. When they flashed that particular statistic across the screen, I went in my house, grabbed my blender, filled it with rubbing alcohol, stuck my hand in there and hit puree. I thought my Dad was going to eat one of my holly bushes. Vinny dipped a log of Copenhagen in 12 minutes, Jeremy bit his Miller Lite bottle in half and Laura opened a third bottle of wine and said "this is a really dry red, don't you think?" If by "dry red" you mean some of the worst football of the season, then you got it. A whole case of it. Playing on this wine metaphor further, we drank it all night, got hammered, drunk texted our old flame with an "I loooooove you akhasansshf" then puked in the yard while Vandy, playing the part of the bitchy sorority sister, refused to hold our hair back.
Our special teams gets a paragraph all on their own. The hat trick of special teams futility was achieved on this day. First, it was yet....another....fake.....&*^%&.....punt that was successful against us. In fact, nobody was even close to the Vandy player who recieved the ball. He could have sat down, finished his 2011 taxes and still gotten the first down. Another preposterous failure by a squad that is rife with preposterous failures. Second, we have a kickoff run back on us. I think one guy's fingernail scratched his sock on the 30 as he blew by us. Unacceptable. Third and finally, with less than a minute to go, we allow Vandy to block a punt that put them in a position to beat us. Hell, if the Vandy player had just picked up the ball and kept running, game over...Vandy wins. Mmmmmm, that dry red is going down smooth at this point. Pour me a freaking highball and a chaser. Fortunately, the defense held and we got out of there with a win. A fitting end to a boring, frustrating and downright piss poor game. Oh yeah, we attempted SIX field goals, and missed two of them. Ugh, I'm going to stop before I drown myself in a urinal.
The post game shenanigans were quiet entertaining, however. Apparently, Vandy's head coach James Franklin took exception to the fact that Shawn Williams, one of our defensive players who actually pulled his weight, was excited about the victory. He said some choice words to Shawn and our DC, Todd Grantham, did his best Lou Ferrigno impression, turned green and launched into James Franklin like Charlie Weis at a Chinese buffet. If you get a chance, Youtube the melee and read Grantham's lips. It's like the first 15 minutes of Full Metal Jacket. The two teams and coaches gathered, some shoves were passed around but eventually calm was restored. Our guys started hooping and hollering, motioning for our fans to cheer...in Nashville, against Vandy.....our newest rival. And that's where we lose. No longer are we mentioned among the elite. We are an afterthought. We are the Smashing Pumpkins, with our very own Billy Corgan. We were good for awhile but now, everybody asks, "what the hell happened to Georgia?" Instead of drugs and inexplicable weirdness, we are a product of complacency, of a lack of desire and an overall poor approach to the game of football. We are resorted to hoping for a Carolina loss (which I NEVER thought could happen in my lifetime) and hoping that John Brantley's faulty ankle is not healed in time for the Cocktail Party. This is not the Georgia I grew up loving.
Not to mention, even if we do win the East, we play the winner of the November 5th tilt between Alabama and LSU, which may as well be the National Championship. These two teams are head and shoulders better than anyone in the East.....Coast. And the West Coast. If we play either of these teams, we will certainly be destroyed. This makes me sad, because people used to fear us. Now, we fear everybody else. Case in point:
Ole Miss scores early on a long bomb make it 7-0 over Alabama. Oxford goes crazy. Airplane bottles of Southern Comfort are outright chugged in the stands. Guys named Butler Browning IV and Harrison Handsberg III steal a Land Rover and crash it into Archie Manning's statue. "We have a chance!" the Rebels say. Then Trent Richardson walks onto the field and says, "I must break you," and proceeds to annhilate their defense all day long and the final was 51-7. (+1 for Rocky IV reference) We barely beat Ole Miss and looked positively anemic all day.
Tennessee holds LSU scoreless for the first quarter. The orange faithful have Neyland rocking, even though they are missing their QB and top receiver, due to injuries. They gain some yards and stop LSU's ground game for the first fifteen minutes. Then LSU gathers themselves, imposes their will on Tennessee and it's 31-7 before Tennessee can say, "hey momma, is it OK to marry a third cousin?" Seriously, the turnaround was unreal. This does not happen in Athens anymore. I'm going to start watching soccer.
Other News and Notes:
1) Georgia Tech loses to Virginia in Charlottesville again. It looks like I am safe from last week's "steel wool and antifreeze" threat. You suck and your coach looks like Nien Nunb from Return of the Jedi. (google it...Paul Johnson and Nunb, dead ringers.)
2) It's Texas vs. St. Louis in the World Series. At least, there will be something to watch on the weekdays between football games.
3) Boise State is being courted by the Big East. They are going to "think about it." What is there to think about? Boise is east of....Seattle....right?
4) The NBA is going to lockout and Stern says that Christmas games are likely to be cancelled. Players are defecting to Turkey and Greece to play ball in the meantime. The only turkey and grease I'll be watching will be on my plate at Thanksgiving. Get it together, guys. You are killing the fringe fanbase.
5) People who write the ads for Atlanta and northwest Georgia title pawn companies basically play on every stereotype known to man. I swear, there was one down in College Park that said, "get paid, boyeeee!" and I heard one today in Rome that said, "Y'all get on down here and get y'all some cash, ya hear?" Terrible/Effective.
Enjoy the week. Dawgs are off before we play the Lizards down in Jacksonville. Notice I said "Dawgs" again. The Junkyard Dawgs will wake up and tear em a new one. Dawgs 20 - UFail 12.
There is very little worth mentioning about this game. Bobo called lateral runs all night long, our top RB sat out the first quarter because Coach "loves him" (whatever that means), and the O-line was marginal at best. The lone bright spots were receivers Marlon Brown and Michael Bennett, who flourished in the absence of Malcolm Mitchell. The defense was at its most porous, giving up over 200 yards rushing to an offense that was held to 4 yards rushing by Alabama and 41 yards rushing by South Carolina. When they flashed that particular statistic across the screen, I went in my house, grabbed my blender, filled it with rubbing alcohol, stuck my hand in there and hit puree. I thought my Dad was going to eat one of my holly bushes. Vinny dipped a log of Copenhagen in 12 minutes, Jeremy bit his Miller Lite bottle in half and Laura opened a third bottle of wine and said "this is a really dry red, don't you think?" If by "dry red" you mean some of the worst football of the season, then you got it. A whole case of it. Playing on this wine metaphor further, we drank it all night, got hammered, drunk texted our old flame with an "I loooooove you akhasansshf" then puked in the yard while Vandy, playing the part of the bitchy sorority sister, refused to hold our hair back.
Our special teams gets a paragraph all on their own. The hat trick of special teams futility was achieved on this day. First, it was yet....another....fake.....&*^%&.....punt that was successful against us. In fact, nobody was even close to the Vandy player who recieved the ball. He could have sat down, finished his 2011 taxes and still gotten the first down. Another preposterous failure by a squad that is rife with preposterous failures. Second, we have a kickoff run back on us. I think one guy's fingernail scratched his sock on the 30 as he blew by us. Unacceptable. Third and finally, with less than a minute to go, we allow Vandy to block a punt that put them in a position to beat us. Hell, if the Vandy player had just picked up the ball and kept running, game over...Vandy wins. Mmmmmm, that dry red is going down smooth at this point. Pour me a freaking highball and a chaser. Fortunately, the defense held and we got out of there with a win. A fitting end to a boring, frustrating and downright piss poor game. Oh yeah, we attempted SIX field goals, and missed two of them. Ugh, I'm going to stop before I drown myself in a urinal.
The post game shenanigans were quiet entertaining, however. Apparently, Vandy's head coach James Franklin took exception to the fact that Shawn Williams, one of our defensive players who actually pulled his weight, was excited about the victory. He said some choice words to Shawn and our DC, Todd Grantham, did his best Lou Ferrigno impression, turned green and launched into James Franklin like Charlie Weis at a Chinese buffet. If you get a chance, Youtube the melee and read Grantham's lips. It's like the first 15 minutes of Full Metal Jacket. The two teams and coaches gathered, some shoves were passed around but eventually calm was restored. Our guys started hooping and hollering, motioning for our fans to cheer...in Nashville, against Vandy.....our newest rival. And that's where we lose. No longer are we mentioned among the elite. We are an afterthought. We are the Smashing Pumpkins, with our very own Billy Corgan. We were good for awhile but now, everybody asks, "what the hell happened to Georgia?" Instead of drugs and inexplicable weirdness, we are a product of complacency, of a lack of desire and an overall poor approach to the game of football. We are resorted to hoping for a Carolina loss (which I NEVER thought could happen in my lifetime) and hoping that John Brantley's faulty ankle is not healed in time for the Cocktail Party. This is not the Georgia I grew up loving.
Not to mention, even if we do win the East, we play the winner of the November 5th tilt between Alabama and LSU, which may as well be the National Championship. These two teams are head and shoulders better than anyone in the East.....Coast. And the West Coast. If we play either of these teams, we will certainly be destroyed. This makes me sad, because people used to fear us. Now, we fear everybody else. Case in point:
Ole Miss scores early on a long bomb make it 7-0 over Alabama. Oxford goes crazy. Airplane bottles of Southern Comfort are outright chugged in the stands. Guys named Butler Browning IV and Harrison Handsberg III steal a Land Rover and crash it into Archie Manning's statue. "We have a chance!" the Rebels say. Then Trent Richardson walks onto the field and says, "I must break you," and proceeds to annhilate their defense all day long and the final was 51-7. (+1 for Rocky IV reference) We barely beat Ole Miss and looked positively anemic all day.
Tennessee holds LSU scoreless for the first quarter. The orange faithful have Neyland rocking, even though they are missing their QB and top receiver, due to injuries. They gain some yards and stop LSU's ground game for the first fifteen minutes. Then LSU gathers themselves, imposes their will on Tennessee and it's 31-7 before Tennessee can say, "hey momma, is it OK to marry a third cousin?" Seriously, the turnaround was unreal. This does not happen in Athens anymore. I'm going to start watching soccer.
Other News and Notes:
1) Georgia Tech loses to Virginia in Charlottesville again. It looks like I am safe from last week's "steel wool and antifreeze" threat. You suck and your coach looks like Nien Nunb from Return of the Jedi. (google it...Paul Johnson and Nunb, dead ringers.)
2) It's Texas vs. St. Louis in the World Series. At least, there will be something to watch on the weekdays between football games.
3) Boise State is being courted by the Big East. They are going to "think about it." What is there to think about? Boise is east of....Seattle....right?
4) The NBA is going to lockout and Stern says that Christmas games are likely to be cancelled. Players are defecting to Turkey and Greece to play ball in the meantime. The only turkey and grease I'll be watching will be on my plate at Thanksgiving. Get it together, guys. You are killing the fringe fanbase.
5) People who write the ads for Atlanta and northwest Georgia title pawn companies basically play on every stereotype known to man. I swear, there was one down in College Park that said, "get paid, boyeeee!" and I heard one today in Rome that said, "Y'all get on down here and get y'all some cash, ya hear?" Terrible/Effective.
Enjoy the week. Dawgs are off before we play the Lizards down in Jacksonville. Notice I said "Dawgs" again. The Junkyard Dawgs will wake up and tear em a new one. Dawgs 20 - UFail 12.
Friday, October 14, 2011
Why I love/hate politics...Cassville comes through in the clutch
When you work at the center of a community like we did at Cass Grocery, when election time came around, there was always a buzz. Campaign signs would go up all over the community, especially in the acre lot behind the store, where Dad welcomed any and all candidates to place a sign. (with certain exceptions) The guys on the benches would be debating (or berating) the candidates...
(in reference to a candidate) "Hell, I know a boy that said he didn't wave at him at Longhorn the other day. He thinks he's big time. Me and the old lady ain't gonna vote for him."
It was strange to hear what people would hang their hats on when it came to voting. It could be a major issue like taxes or something as minor as being slightly unfriendly in public. In any event, our little precinct would usually end up being slightly Republican nationally and slightly Democrat when it came to state elections. So many of the older people remembered Herbert Hoover, a Republican, whom they blamed for the Great Depression, and FDR, a Democrat, who saved everybody. Mama Kim, my great grandmother, was a "yellow dog" Democrat. She voted for Michael Dukakis, Jimmy Carter, and Walter Mondale. She voted for Clinton twice. I tried to talk her out of it the second time...
"Boy, I went through the Depression. I ain't NEVER gonna vote for another Republican, so you just hush."
And that was that. She couldn't drive, so Neen or I would take her to the polls, where she voted straight ticket Democrat every time. I guarantee you, if she were still alive, she would have voted for Obama. Old people love to vote. They take that right very seriously. I remember I took political science my freshman year at UGA and the second day of class we were discussing the largest lobbies in Washington. The AARP blew everyone out of the water. I thought of Mama Kim and laughed. I'll bet she is in Heaven right now eating chicken and dumplings telling Herbert Hoover what an idiot he was.
In all this hoopla, I would get really excited. I helped with local elections, usually putting out signs. Dad would get involved as well and that meant I got to ride around in the back of the truck with the Arrow T-50 stapler, stakes, and a hammer. I would jump out and have a sign in the ground before Dad could give me the "go ahead" wave from the prospective voter's front door. That job was made for me: a hyperactive, slightly activist Southern boy that would argue with older men about SPLOST, military policy, farm subsidies, taxes or whatever you threw at me. I was young and naive back then. I thought it all meant something and I was sure that I made a difference.
As I got older, I took a bite of the forbidden fruit from the tree of knowledge....I learned more about humans and their nature. Politics was a whole lot more than nailing a sign in somebody's yard. My least favorite moment was when a prominent local man ran for state assembly when I was in high school. He NEVER darkened the doors of our store for one reason or another, and frankly, we did not care. He was a transplant, he had a farm that he couldn't run worth a damn, and his arrogance was palpable. Well, when it was time to campaign and he realized that so many of his constituents frequented our little dusty corner, he begrudgingly drove his F-350 to 1810 Cassville Road and asked to set up on our benches and press the flesh. Funny thing, small town people have an uncanny way of sifting through the BS, and BS is what this was. Everyone knew he did not shop with us. Everyone knew what he was and that he was only doing this to garner votes and that once the election was over, he would never come back. Needless to say, he did not receive a warm welcome and I remember one of our customers telling him, "I ain't voting for you or that other sumbitch crook runnin against you either." He was defeated in a landslide.
That's the love/hate relationship I have with politics. This man was only there to use us and further his ambition, which I hated. However, the local constituency saw through him and let him know about it at the polls, which I loved. That's the beauty of America. Hell, no national politician knows me and very few state politicians do. They'll never get the chance, unless they back into me at the Waffle House or something. I understand campaigning, but you cannot tell me that it means anything other than "hey, remember to vote for this face." Sadly, it's like the SAT for college admissions, there's really no other way to get out there. I'm not saying that it's all fake, and there are plenty of men and women in office who are true to their constituency, but the political process as a whole has more flaws than Michael Moore has chins. Hell, our last governor ran on a platform that guaranteed he would allow Georgia to vote on our state flag. This was a BIG issue. A freaking piece of cloth. Is that his fault? No and yes. He played on emotion to gain votes, which is quite industrious and he would have been a fool NOT to do this, but it was sad to realize that those are the levels to which we are stooping. Thank God, the flag issue got resolved....I would hate for issues like job creation, failing farms, Atlanta's outdated infrastructure and the state's drastic bankruptcy filing numbers to get in the way.
So, as we anticipate a new presidential election, remember the story from benches. Are you voting for a face, or are you voting for somebody who actually gives a damn? Will you vote for somebody who says, "I promise to lower property taxes" with a wink or a guy who says, "Hey, how's your momma n' them?" As for me, I'll probably heat up some chicken and dumplings, chuckle about Mama Kim, and go to the polls and write in one of my neighbors for every position. I'm a "yellow dog" like that.
(in reference to a candidate) "Hell, I know a boy that said he didn't wave at him at Longhorn the other day. He thinks he's big time. Me and the old lady ain't gonna vote for him."
It was strange to hear what people would hang their hats on when it came to voting. It could be a major issue like taxes or something as minor as being slightly unfriendly in public. In any event, our little precinct would usually end up being slightly Republican nationally and slightly Democrat when it came to state elections. So many of the older people remembered Herbert Hoover, a Republican, whom they blamed for the Great Depression, and FDR, a Democrat, who saved everybody. Mama Kim, my great grandmother, was a "yellow dog" Democrat. She voted for Michael Dukakis, Jimmy Carter, and Walter Mondale. She voted for Clinton twice. I tried to talk her out of it the second time...
"Boy, I went through the Depression. I ain't NEVER gonna vote for another Republican, so you just hush."
And that was that. She couldn't drive, so Neen or I would take her to the polls, where she voted straight ticket Democrat every time. I guarantee you, if she were still alive, she would have voted for Obama. Old people love to vote. They take that right very seriously. I remember I took political science my freshman year at UGA and the second day of class we were discussing the largest lobbies in Washington. The AARP blew everyone out of the water. I thought of Mama Kim and laughed. I'll bet she is in Heaven right now eating chicken and dumplings telling Herbert Hoover what an idiot he was.
In all this hoopla, I would get really excited. I helped with local elections, usually putting out signs. Dad would get involved as well and that meant I got to ride around in the back of the truck with the Arrow T-50 stapler, stakes, and a hammer. I would jump out and have a sign in the ground before Dad could give me the "go ahead" wave from the prospective voter's front door. That job was made for me: a hyperactive, slightly activist Southern boy that would argue with older men about SPLOST, military policy, farm subsidies, taxes or whatever you threw at me. I was young and naive back then. I thought it all meant something and I was sure that I made a difference.
As I got older, I took a bite of the forbidden fruit from the tree of knowledge....I learned more about humans and their nature. Politics was a whole lot more than nailing a sign in somebody's yard. My least favorite moment was when a prominent local man ran for state assembly when I was in high school. He NEVER darkened the doors of our store for one reason or another, and frankly, we did not care. He was a transplant, he had a farm that he couldn't run worth a damn, and his arrogance was palpable. Well, when it was time to campaign and he realized that so many of his constituents frequented our little dusty corner, he begrudgingly drove his F-350 to 1810 Cassville Road and asked to set up on our benches and press the flesh. Funny thing, small town people have an uncanny way of sifting through the BS, and BS is what this was. Everyone knew he did not shop with us. Everyone knew what he was and that he was only doing this to garner votes and that once the election was over, he would never come back. Needless to say, he did not receive a warm welcome and I remember one of our customers telling him, "I ain't voting for you or that other sumbitch crook runnin against you either." He was defeated in a landslide.
That's the love/hate relationship I have with politics. This man was only there to use us and further his ambition, which I hated. However, the local constituency saw through him and let him know about it at the polls, which I loved. That's the beauty of America. Hell, no national politician knows me and very few state politicians do. They'll never get the chance, unless they back into me at the Waffle House or something. I understand campaigning, but you cannot tell me that it means anything other than "hey, remember to vote for this face." Sadly, it's like the SAT for college admissions, there's really no other way to get out there. I'm not saying that it's all fake, and there are plenty of men and women in office who are true to their constituency, but the political process as a whole has more flaws than Michael Moore has chins. Hell, our last governor ran on a platform that guaranteed he would allow Georgia to vote on our state flag. This was a BIG issue. A freaking piece of cloth. Is that his fault? No and yes. He played on emotion to gain votes, which is quite industrious and he would have been a fool NOT to do this, but it was sad to realize that those are the levels to which we are stooping. Thank God, the flag issue got resolved....I would hate for issues like job creation, failing farms, Atlanta's outdated infrastructure and the state's drastic bankruptcy filing numbers to get in the way.
So, as we anticipate a new presidential election, remember the story from benches. Are you voting for a face, or are you voting for somebody who actually gives a damn? Will you vote for somebody who says, "I promise to lower property taxes" with a wink or a guy who says, "Hey, how's your momma n' them?" As for me, I'll probably heat up some chicken and dumplings, chuckle about Mama Kim, and go to the polls and write in one of my neighbors for every position. I'm a "yellow dog" like that.
Thursday, October 13, 2011
Rainy Day Southern Movies...Gotta Love Em
I never thought I would say this, but thank God for rain. After enduring a summer with constant temperatures in the 90's and a drought that turned my grass into dust, this week has been quite refreshing. Despite the gloomy, overcast skies, I am glad to drag wet leaves in the house with my shoes. I am glad to have the constant dirt stripe on the bottom of my car doors. I am glad that my dogs smell especially ripe these days. I swear, we would have had more rain if Lou Holtz stood on top of the Downtown Atlanta Westin and sang "The Night the Lights Went Out in Georgia."
I am also glad that I don't stick to my car seat anymore. I advise each and every one of you...forgo black leather interior. It is NOT a perk. However, if you enjoy third degree burns on your hands and an awesome sweat outline on your back and legs, then by all means, get it. You better come up with a good story to explain your appearance, though. I usually go with the trusty "my AC is out" because "I was my feeding my chickens" doesn't work if you live in Marietta.
This weather is also good for watching movies. Nothing makes me happier than taking in a good movie on a gloomy day (ok, that's a lie. Pistachio ice cream, 99 cent Wendy's Double Stack burgers on my "cheat" day, the Marshall Tucker Band and free wi-fi make me happier) Anyhow, I was thinking, as I watched "Necessary Roughness" the other day, what are the BEST movies about the South? As I perused film history, I discount all movies that paint the South in a totally negative light. I know we have a jaded past and it should not be forgotten, however, I think some in the media just love to twist the knife too much. We are aware of our past and many of us (young and old, white and black) make a concerted effort to make it exactly that.....the past. Reopening old wounds at our expense to sell tickets and issues of magazines and newspapers will make you no friends in Cassville, Georgia, nor anywhere else down here.
Enough diatribe. When I concocted this list, I took into account three factors: 1) accuracy; 2) entertainment value; and 3) the storyline. When you think about it, there are hundreds of movies about us. The South has a mystique that seems to tantalize the rest of the nation. (I used mystique and tantalize in the same sentence. Sounds like names for X-Rated female American Gladiator contestants.) Maybe it's the live oaks and Spanish moss. Maybe it's our devotion to our music, football, food and our front porches. The South is an attitude, a lifestyle that cannot be emulated by any other region. I think the national media is fascinated by this uniqueness. It reverberates down to the smallest dirt road in the smallest town and no two places are the same. From Kentucky to Florida, from Carolina to Texas, we all share a common bond that other regions can only read about, and few understand.
When I think of the South, I think of so many things. It's a personal thing for me, as it seems to be with most Southerners. The dogwood outside my window, the wind blowing the sweet smell into my room. The midnight train blowing mournfully in the distance. Cass Grocery. My parents dancing to "Can't You See" in the living room. My brother and I pulling up wild onions and building forts. Mama Kim's lemonade. Neen telling me to "watch for Johnny No Shoulders" in the woods and wishing I didn't carry my gun every time. Meemaw's biscuits. Duane Allman. Ronnie Van Zant. Toy and Tommy Caldwell. Singing "I Have Decided to Follow Jesus" every Sunday as the benediction. North Campus in Athens, Georgia. Sunset on the Frederica River at St. Simon's Island. People, places and things that cannot be recreated by any form of media. What the media does recreate are generalities that somewhat touch on our roots, our lives and our attitude. Honestly, many of them do a great job of it.
However, I do have one complaint. What happened to Southern actors? James Van Der Beek saying "I don't want your life" in Varsity Blues was the low point. He is from Connecticut. I own Varsity Blues simply for Billy Bob's lines (who is from Acworth, Georgia). It's a travesty throughout. Ali Larter, Scott Caan and Paul Walker bumble through their lines, forcing an accent that makes me more uncomfortable than Hank Williams, Jr at the Democratic National Convention. So, here is my list of the 5 absolute best movies about the South, in no particular order:
1) Smokey and the Bandit: Bootlegging and Burt Reynolds. Jerry Reed. Buford T. Justice. Moronic Georgia State Troopers. Need I say more? The best line ever...."Mr. Trans Ammmmm, what's yo pleasure?" I could watch this movie every day and not get tired of it. Plus, it was filmed in Georgia in its entirety as far as I know. Just don't bother watching it on TV, because if I hear Jackie Gleason say "scumbum" once more, I'll gouge my eyes out. A comedy with no undertones, just a good time and a shout out to carefree living, fast cars, beer and trucker talk. #Winning
2) Coal Miner's Daughter: The main actors were all Southern born and bred. Sissy Spacek won an Oscar. Tommy Lee Jones should have. Levon Helm (the drummer for The Band) was excellent. A great biopic into post World War II Southern living, it does not justify anything, it only tells a story of how a girl from Nowhere, Kentucky overcame life obstacles to become one of the best and most famous country musicians in history. Her inspiration: her Daddy and her hard drinking, hard living former bootlegger husband. There are so many good lines in this movie but the most poignant was.."When you born in the mountains, you got three choices: coal mine, moonshine or move it on down the line."
3) Mississippi Burning: One of my favorite Gene Hackman movies. It shows the terrible nature of racism in the 60's but also shows that all Southerners were not evil, nor were they a part of the madness. R. Lee Ermey played the mayor of the town, who ended up hanging himself, although he was not part of any murder or a member of the Klan. He did it out of guilt for indifference. It also points out another obvious event: R. Lee Ermey dies in just about every movie he plays in. I thought it was far better than Ghosts of Mississippi, because I cannot take Alec Baldwin seriously as a Southerner. Further, Bobby DeLaughter was recently locked up in federal prison for lying to the FBI.
4) Days of Thunder: Granted, very few of the main actors are Southerners. It's a little hokey and over the top. However, Robert Duvall makes up for all of this and then some. His portrayal of Harry Hogg is money. It also gives a glimpse into NASCAR, which rarely happens at all. "Handsome" Harry Gant makes a cameo. Hardee's is the sponsor of a car, when does that happen anymore? Randy Quaid has the famous "monkey/football" line. And who can forget that immortal line..."now Cole....tars (tires) is what wins a race." Classic Southern humor with a little wedge taken out (sorry, couldn't resist)
5) Deliverance: All jokes aside, this is one of the greatest movies ever made. Burt is in this one too. Burt is to Southern acting what Robert DeNiro is to mob movies. The man just knows his damn role. This movie is about man fighting nature (Burt and friends vs. the river), nature fighting man (the entire area is being wiped away for a manmade lake), and man fighting man (Burt and friends vs. mountain men). Basically, it's one big fight with a rape, three murders and a chilling scene where James Dickey (the author of the book) plays the town sheriff who tells Jon Voight..."don't ever do anything like this again, and don't come back up here. I'd like to see this town die peaceful." (as the entire town cemetery is being disinterred in anticipation of the lake).
Honorable Mention: Fried Green Tomatoes, Steel Magnolias, O Brother Where Art Thou, Forrest Gump, A Time to Kill (these are almost interchangeable with the previous 5, depending on my mood)
That's my list and I'm sticking to it. You may disagree or think of one that I totally forgot, but that's the beauty of it. There are so many to choose from. Just remember 1) accuracy (so, The Blind Side is out, as are most football movies); 2) Entertainment Value (goodbye Gone With the Wind, bored me to death) and 3) the storyline (Smokey and the Bandit 2....I'd rather be covered in bees than watch it again).
(+1 for Little Nicky reference, by the way)
I am also glad that I don't stick to my car seat anymore. I advise each and every one of you...forgo black leather interior. It is NOT a perk. However, if you enjoy third degree burns on your hands and an awesome sweat outline on your back and legs, then by all means, get it. You better come up with a good story to explain your appearance, though. I usually go with the trusty "my AC is out" because "I was my feeding my chickens" doesn't work if you live in Marietta.
This weather is also good for watching movies. Nothing makes me happier than taking in a good movie on a gloomy day (ok, that's a lie. Pistachio ice cream, 99 cent Wendy's Double Stack burgers on my "cheat" day, the Marshall Tucker Band and free wi-fi make me happier) Anyhow, I was thinking, as I watched "Necessary Roughness" the other day, what are the BEST movies about the South? As I perused film history, I discount all movies that paint the South in a totally negative light. I know we have a jaded past and it should not be forgotten, however, I think some in the media just love to twist the knife too much. We are aware of our past and many of us (young and old, white and black) make a concerted effort to make it exactly that.....the past. Reopening old wounds at our expense to sell tickets and issues of magazines and newspapers will make you no friends in Cassville, Georgia, nor anywhere else down here.
Enough diatribe. When I concocted this list, I took into account three factors: 1) accuracy; 2) entertainment value; and 3) the storyline. When you think about it, there are hundreds of movies about us. The South has a mystique that seems to tantalize the rest of the nation. (I used mystique and tantalize in the same sentence. Sounds like names for X-Rated female American Gladiator contestants.) Maybe it's the live oaks and Spanish moss. Maybe it's our devotion to our music, football, food and our front porches. The South is an attitude, a lifestyle that cannot be emulated by any other region. I think the national media is fascinated by this uniqueness. It reverberates down to the smallest dirt road in the smallest town and no two places are the same. From Kentucky to Florida, from Carolina to Texas, we all share a common bond that other regions can only read about, and few understand.
When I think of the South, I think of so many things. It's a personal thing for me, as it seems to be with most Southerners. The dogwood outside my window, the wind blowing the sweet smell into my room. The midnight train blowing mournfully in the distance. Cass Grocery. My parents dancing to "Can't You See" in the living room. My brother and I pulling up wild onions and building forts. Mama Kim's lemonade. Neen telling me to "watch for Johnny No Shoulders" in the woods and wishing I didn't carry my gun every time. Meemaw's biscuits. Duane Allman. Ronnie Van Zant. Toy and Tommy Caldwell. Singing "I Have Decided to Follow Jesus" every Sunday as the benediction. North Campus in Athens, Georgia. Sunset on the Frederica River at St. Simon's Island. People, places and things that cannot be recreated by any form of media. What the media does recreate are generalities that somewhat touch on our roots, our lives and our attitude. Honestly, many of them do a great job of it.
However, I do have one complaint. What happened to Southern actors? James Van Der Beek saying "I don't want your life" in Varsity Blues was the low point. He is from Connecticut. I own Varsity Blues simply for Billy Bob's lines (who is from Acworth, Georgia). It's a travesty throughout. Ali Larter, Scott Caan and Paul Walker bumble through their lines, forcing an accent that makes me more uncomfortable than Hank Williams, Jr at the Democratic National Convention. So, here is my list of the 5 absolute best movies about the South, in no particular order:
1) Smokey and the Bandit: Bootlegging and Burt Reynolds. Jerry Reed. Buford T. Justice. Moronic Georgia State Troopers. Need I say more? The best line ever...."Mr. Trans Ammmmm, what's yo pleasure?" I could watch this movie every day and not get tired of it. Plus, it was filmed in Georgia in its entirety as far as I know. Just don't bother watching it on TV, because if I hear Jackie Gleason say "scumbum" once more, I'll gouge my eyes out. A comedy with no undertones, just a good time and a shout out to carefree living, fast cars, beer and trucker talk. #Winning
2) Coal Miner's Daughter: The main actors were all Southern born and bred. Sissy Spacek won an Oscar. Tommy Lee Jones should have. Levon Helm (the drummer for The Band) was excellent. A great biopic into post World War II Southern living, it does not justify anything, it only tells a story of how a girl from Nowhere, Kentucky overcame life obstacles to become one of the best and most famous country musicians in history. Her inspiration: her Daddy and her hard drinking, hard living former bootlegger husband. There are so many good lines in this movie but the most poignant was.."When you born in the mountains, you got three choices: coal mine, moonshine or move it on down the line."
3) Mississippi Burning: One of my favorite Gene Hackman movies. It shows the terrible nature of racism in the 60's but also shows that all Southerners were not evil, nor were they a part of the madness. R. Lee Ermey played the mayor of the town, who ended up hanging himself, although he was not part of any murder or a member of the Klan. He did it out of guilt for indifference. It also points out another obvious event: R. Lee Ermey dies in just about every movie he plays in. I thought it was far better than Ghosts of Mississippi, because I cannot take Alec Baldwin seriously as a Southerner. Further, Bobby DeLaughter was recently locked up in federal prison for lying to the FBI.
4) Days of Thunder: Granted, very few of the main actors are Southerners. It's a little hokey and over the top. However, Robert Duvall makes up for all of this and then some. His portrayal of Harry Hogg is money. It also gives a glimpse into NASCAR, which rarely happens at all. "Handsome" Harry Gant makes a cameo. Hardee's is the sponsor of a car, when does that happen anymore? Randy Quaid has the famous "monkey/football" line. And who can forget that immortal line..."now Cole....tars (tires) is what wins a race." Classic Southern humor with a little wedge taken out (sorry, couldn't resist)
5) Deliverance: All jokes aside, this is one of the greatest movies ever made. Burt is in this one too. Burt is to Southern acting what Robert DeNiro is to mob movies. The man just knows his damn role. This movie is about man fighting nature (Burt and friends vs. the river), nature fighting man (the entire area is being wiped away for a manmade lake), and man fighting man (Burt and friends vs. mountain men). Basically, it's one big fight with a rape, three murders and a chilling scene where James Dickey (the author of the book) plays the town sheriff who tells Jon Voight..."don't ever do anything like this again, and don't come back up here. I'd like to see this town die peaceful." (as the entire town cemetery is being disinterred in anticipation of the lake).
Honorable Mention: Fried Green Tomatoes, Steel Magnolias, O Brother Where Art Thou, Forrest Gump, A Time to Kill (these are almost interchangeable with the previous 5, depending on my mood)
That's my list and I'm sticking to it. You may disagree or think of one that I totally forgot, but that's the beauty of it. There are so many to choose from. Just remember 1) accuracy (so, The Blind Side is out, as are most football movies); 2) Entertainment Value (goodbye Gone With the Wind, bored me to death) and 3) the storyline (Smokey and the Bandit 2....I'd rather be covered in bees than watch it again).
(+1 for Little Nicky reference, by the way)
Monday, October 10, 2011
Recap of the Weekend...or 4-2 is great and I hope Smokey got fleas.
Well, the Dawgs pulled out another victory, this time against the wretched Volunteers of Tennessee in Neyland Stadium, no less. There is no place more fun to win and conversely, there is no worse place to lose than Neyland Stadium. When you are victorious, you get to watch 104,000 orange clad heathens leave in silence as you celebrate with 3,000 of your closest friends in the most upper of upper decks. In fact, Laura and I sat so high up in 2003 that I felt a tap on my shoulder and turned around...it was God. He said, "hey dude, did Pollack hurt himself on that 3rd and long?" We won that day, 41-14. It was glorious. When you lose, it's pure hell. The 104,000 are now screaming at you, Rocky Top blaring for the 3,987th time, fireworks go off, second cousins lock their chastity belts, chaos ensues and you just want to disappear. Luckily, we and every second cousin were spared this year. 20-12 was the final, but quite honestly, it never felt as though they threatened us.
Our offense was anemic at times, but I was proud of Crowell and Mitchell stepping up and playing above their experience. Malcolm Mitchell can flat out fly, there is no two ways about it. Tennessee is not what they used to be, but I'm telling you, Neyland is tough no matter what. Aaron Murray continues his slight sophomore slump, he missed some wide open throws but he did not turn it over, so that's a plus. Walsh actually made a field goal. The line held up well other than the 3rd and 56 debacle where we were called for four straight holding penalties and a personal foul. I have never seen a longer third down in my life. In typical Georgia fashion, we did not try anything other than a handoff to remedy the situation. Saying Mike Bobo is going to call a draw play on third and long is like saying there is going to be traffic on I-285 at 5:30 today. It's a no brainer.
The defense continued to impress. Da'Rick Rogers was a non factor. He is also a non factor in life as well. He is now 0-2 against the team he spurned on Signing Day, his boy Nash Nance hasn't sniffed the field yet and they look to have yet another losing season in the SEC. Good call! Bray did complete some passes but he never really damaged us. We damaged him though. In fact, the last three opponents have finished the game with a different quarterback because we killed their first string QB. Glad to see Christian Robinson back. Mike Gilliard is absolutely lighting people up, as is Shawn Williams. They had two intentional grounding penalties because of our blitz packages, which is bigger than a sack if you ask me. They had -28 rushing yards, continuing another streak of dominance by our D-Line and linebackers, who are breaking RB's down like syllables these days. It was a good win, our 4th in a row, and I hope we blow Vandy out of the water so we can rest up for Florida.
Speaking of Florida, I've never seen a UF team look as bad as they did on Saturday. They were like Ned Beatty in Deliverance, standing in their whitey-tighties, jorts in a pile on the ground, while LSU tells them to squeal like a pig. Unfortunately, Burt Reynolds didn't show up to help them. First of all, Burt went to FSU so he would let it happen and laugh. Secondly, the only man who could save them (Urban Meyer) is hiding at ESPN because he fears Saban. Will Muschamp looked like somebody shot his dog. Will is a UGA alum and I'll always hold him in high regard, but he is going to have a stroke. They interviewed him post-game and it went something like this....
Reporter: "Coach, today was a tough one. The home crowd was extremely hostile today, and it just didn't seem that your offense could get its feet under them. How are you going to handle the remainder of the season with Brantley's situation being so tenuous?
Muschamp: "Argeikneeienmjeio! Agiinaojrnmrp0!" (spins away to the locker room Tasmanian Devil-style and destroys Mike the Tiger's cage.)
Charlie Weis gained 20 pounds during the game, I think. I swear, if he laid on the beach, Greenpeace would show up and try to roll him back into the ocean. I saw that Yahoo article about a whale being found about 800 yards from shore in England. I thought, "that Charlie Weis cleaned out a Ryan's buffet and he was in a food coma out there." Poor Chris Rainey will be lucky to survive the season, he is a spread receiver playing running back in a pro set offense. When you are 5'8 and 170 lbs, you are not going to go up the middle and SEC defenses are too fast to try the corners. Alabama strung him out, as did LSU, and Rainey's speed was neutralized. The SEC West is unreal this year. I don't know what East team will be in the Dome come December, but it looks like it will be lambs to the slaughter at this point.
Other notable events from this weekend:
1) The Big Three in Florida all lost and none of them are ranked in the top 25. I'm looking to the sky for Halley's Comet with Bigfoot riding it all the way to the ground.
2) Georgia Tech is #12 in the AP poll. If they crack the top ten, I will eat steel wool and drink antifreeze.
3) The NLCS is Milwaukee vs. St. Louis and the ALCS is Detroit vs. Texas. To quote Tom Hanks in A League of Their Own..."Let's go girls, dozens of people are ready to watch the game!" No Yankees and No Red Sox make Bradley a dull boy (+1 for The Shining reference). Pulling for Texas though, since they drafted Jonathan Taylor and Zach Cone.
4) LSU is the first team I've seen to get penalized for an "egregious celebration" and have a TD called back. This penalty makes me want to vomit. They can't get paid, they can't have jobs, and they can't have a good time. Pathetic, NCAA.
5) It appears Missouri will be the next member of the SEC. It makes sense, really. I mean, Missouri is southeast of.....Wyoming...right?
Have a great week. Dawgs vs. Dores in Nash-vegas on Saturday. Vandy is always fun, when you win, their fans are like, "I bet you can't even spell quantum physics, you rednecks!" Au contraire, my neighbors to the north, au contraire....I can spell just fine.
We may be from Georgia, but we ain't all Peach's. Dawgs 34 Dores 10. Book it.
Our offense was anemic at times, but I was proud of Crowell and Mitchell stepping up and playing above their experience. Malcolm Mitchell can flat out fly, there is no two ways about it. Tennessee is not what they used to be, but I'm telling you, Neyland is tough no matter what. Aaron Murray continues his slight sophomore slump, he missed some wide open throws but he did not turn it over, so that's a plus. Walsh actually made a field goal. The line held up well other than the 3rd and 56 debacle where we were called for four straight holding penalties and a personal foul. I have never seen a longer third down in my life. In typical Georgia fashion, we did not try anything other than a handoff to remedy the situation. Saying Mike Bobo is going to call a draw play on third and long is like saying there is going to be traffic on I-285 at 5:30 today. It's a no brainer.
The defense continued to impress. Da'Rick Rogers was a non factor. He is also a non factor in life as well. He is now 0-2 against the team he spurned on Signing Day, his boy Nash Nance hasn't sniffed the field yet and they look to have yet another losing season in the SEC. Good call! Bray did complete some passes but he never really damaged us. We damaged him though. In fact, the last three opponents have finished the game with a different quarterback because we killed their first string QB. Glad to see Christian Robinson back. Mike Gilliard is absolutely lighting people up, as is Shawn Williams. They had two intentional grounding penalties because of our blitz packages, which is bigger than a sack if you ask me. They had -28 rushing yards, continuing another streak of dominance by our D-Line and linebackers, who are breaking RB's down like syllables these days. It was a good win, our 4th in a row, and I hope we blow Vandy out of the water so we can rest up for Florida.
Speaking of Florida, I've never seen a UF team look as bad as they did on Saturday. They were like Ned Beatty in Deliverance, standing in their whitey-tighties, jorts in a pile on the ground, while LSU tells them to squeal like a pig. Unfortunately, Burt Reynolds didn't show up to help them. First of all, Burt went to FSU so he would let it happen and laugh. Secondly, the only man who could save them (Urban Meyer) is hiding at ESPN because he fears Saban. Will Muschamp looked like somebody shot his dog. Will is a UGA alum and I'll always hold him in high regard, but he is going to have a stroke. They interviewed him post-game and it went something like this....
Reporter: "Coach, today was a tough one. The home crowd was extremely hostile today, and it just didn't seem that your offense could get its feet under them. How are you going to handle the remainder of the season with Brantley's situation being so tenuous?
Muschamp: "Argeikneeienmjeio! Agiinaojrnmrp0!" (spins away to the locker room Tasmanian Devil-style and destroys Mike the Tiger's cage.)
Charlie Weis gained 20 pounds during the game, I think. I swear, if he laid on the beach, Greenpeace would show up and try to roll him back into the ocean. I saw that Yahoo article about a whale being found about 800 yards from shore in England. I thought, "that Charlie Weis cleaned out a Ryan's buffet and he was in a food coma out there." Poor Chris Rainey will be lucky to survive the season, he is a spread receiver playing running back in a pro set offense. When you are 5'8 and 170 lbs, you are not going to go up the middle and SEC defenses are too fast to try the corners. Alabama strung him out, as did LSU, and Rainey's speed was neutralized. The SEC West is unreal this year. I don't know what East team will be in the Dome come December, but it looks like it will be lambs to the slaughter at this point.
Other notable events from this weekend:
1) The Big Three in Florida all lost and none of them are ranked in the top 25. I'm looking to the sky for Halley's Comet with Bigfoot riding it all the way to the ground.
2) Georgia Tech is #12 in the AP poll. If they crack the top ten, I will eat steel wool and drink antifreeze.
3) The NLCS is Milwaukee vs. St. Louis and the ALCS is Detroit vs. Texas. To quote Tom Hanks in A League of Their Own..."Let's go girls, dozens of people are ready to watch the game!" No Yankees and No Red Sox make Bradley a dull boy (+1 for The Shining reference). Pulling for Texas though, since they drafted Jonathan Taylor and Zach Cone.
4) LSU is the first team I've seen to get penalized for an "egregious celebration" and have a TD called back. This penalty makes me want to vomit. They can't get paid, they can't have jobs, and they can't have a good time. Pathetic, NCAA.
5) It appears Missouri will be the next member of the SEC. It makes sense, really. I mean, Missouri is southeast of.....Wyoming...right?
Have a great week. Dawgs vs. Dores in Nash-vegas on Saturday. Vandy is always fun, when you win, their fans are like, "I bet you can't even spell quantum physics, you rednecks!" Au contraire, my neighbors to the north, au contraire....I can spell just fine.
We may be from Georgia, but we ain't all Peach's. Dawgs 34 Dores 10. Book it.
Saturday, October 8, 2011
Call in the scabs...the new NBA!
So, the owners and the players called off their Monday meeting to discuss the collective bargaining agreement, further endangering the season and making fans like me groan in disgust. After the high tide of the 2011 Finals, where the NBA's popularity skyrocketed to heights it had not reached since 2008, here we are...about to be locked out for the second time in David Stern's tenure. This is not a knock on Mr. Stern AT ALL. When he took over in 1984 for Larry O'Brien, he revived a league that was literally hanging by a thread. The NBA owes David Stern more than it could ever repay him. These lockouts are a product of greed amongst players and owners, the ever increasing number of street agents and entourages, television meddling in the affairs of the NBA and in my opinion, a complete lack of respect for the game. The "I'm Gonna Get Mine" generation has come home to roost and it has infected everybody in the League, except Brian Scalabrine, who is still sitting at the end of the Bulls bench looking to high five somebody.
If this season locks out, I don't know if the NBA can recover. Small market teams like Sacramento and Indianapolis could fold (or hopefully move to a better city for basketball, like Pittsburgh or hell, add another New York team). Imagine, the New York Kings. Play their games at St. John's in Queens (the Kings of Queens....thank you, I'll be here all week) until their new arena is constructed next to Yankee Stadium in the Bronx. That would give New York three teams in three of the five boroughs (The Nets will be in Brooklyn in 2012) and NYC would embrace it. I have no doubt. Cities like Atlanta, Charlotte, Memphis and New Orleans would suffer immensely, as they have a hard time maintaining a fanbase in SEC football country anyway. A lockout would give the fans all the reason NOT to ever go back. NewYork, Chicago and LA would probably be OK. Minnesota and Toronto? Probably not. Oklahoma City? They just learned what basketball was about three years ago. I really hate to imagine the fallout.
So, as a solution to this madness, what shall we do?
Mr. Stern....this is my official declaration.....I will be a scab for the NBA. I'm 6'4, 196 lbs after lunch, I have tendinitis in my left knee so I can't dunk anymore and my shot is off because I've done too many wall balls at Crossfit. I don't have any tattoos (thanks to Granddaddy), no illegitimate kids (Shawn Kemp, where you at?), and I will take the league minimum. I get by on hustle, a mean streak, a mean right jump hook, and a lack of fear of injury and/or technical fouls. Essentially, I'm Dave Cowens with a side of Kevin McHale and a dash of Rasheed Wallace. Not too shabby huh? The fans can rally around my beard too. "Fear the Beard," they'll say. I'll even wear a headband if it will sell tickets and keep the League going. I would request a sweet Jumbotron video of me diving for a loose ball, limping away from a sweet finger roll where I crashed into ESPN's camerman, and giving Lakers fans the bird at the Staples Center. I must play at least twenty minutes per game. I would also encourage you to hire other scabs like me, just one per team though. The other members need to be retired players who are still pining away for the spotlight (because they never won a ring, their career didn't play out or just somebody you can't live without), and the lone scab gets to handpick those players. So, since I'm the lone scab, I'm picking my team:
Starters
G - Tim Hardaway (often injured, wasted best years in Golden State, needs to remake his image)
G - Penny Hardaway (injuries derailed him early and he never recovered, he MUST wear the old Penny shoes from 1993, I had em and loved em)
C - Patrick Ewing (never won a ring, has a theory about losing named after him, holds the NBA record for sweating profusely and having the biggest knee pads ever)
F- Me
F - Shawn Kemp (never won a ring, had 75 kids, never reached full potential. He would still keep his high top fade and all his kids would attend our games and have their own section)
Bench
F- Jack Haley (the greatest bench sitter ever, Rodman's best friend, Scalabrine wishes he was Haley)
F- Robert Horry (this guy is a four leaf clover, a rabbit's foot and your luckiest pair of socks all in one, has seven rings. If he and Steve Kerr went to Vegas with you, you would own Caesar's Palace before the night ended)
F- Charles Oakley (to protect me from all the fights I plan to start on the court, nobody wants a piece of Oak)
G- Trent Tucker (has an NBA rule named after him plus he has a beard too. And his name is alliteration, no brainer that he makes the squad.)
G- Muggsy Bogues (because I loved the Charlotte Hornets and Muggsy with a passion when I was 12. He is also 5'3 and had about ten blocked shots in his career, resulting in ten new oil changers down at Jiffy Lube)
G- Sedale Threatt (because I want to be able say his name a lot....See-Dale shoot, See-Dale run, See-Dale score, instant poster/rally cry)
C - Kevin Duckworth (simply a mammoth human being, like 7'0, 365 and had a wingspan of 11' 7" but it takes two minutes for him to run from paint to paint, when he fouls somebody they usually die on the way to the hospital)
C- Eddie Lee Wilkins (born and raised in Cassville, Georgia. Two guys from Cassville in the NBA at the same time. That's never happened before, strangely, but by God, it's happening now)
Could you imagine the fun we'd have? We would of course be the scabs for the New York Knicks, unless the Kings relocated. I can see it now, Trent Tucker and I in a barbershop (like the one in Coming to America) in the Bronx getting our beards trimmed at the same time. Me, Oakley and Duckworth going out to bars and I just try to start trouble so Oak can wreck somebody and Duckworth clears the entire place out with one swing. I help smooth things over with Tim Hardaway and the gay community by getting him a Prada endorsement. Penny wears his shoes everywhere. Shawn Kemp has three more kids during training camp. One of Ewing's kneepads is used to break the fall of a suicidal Wall Street tycoon who bet everything on a failed dot com and jumped from the Empire State Building, which is luckily next to Madison Square Garden. Eddie Lee and I stealing road signs off Broadway like we are on Cass-White Road all over again. What a season. I predict 79-3 with us sweeping the scab Timberwolves in their last season before they move to Fargo, North Dakota.
Alas, it will be a dream. It looks like a lockout, y'all. However, I hope Mr. Stern reads and considers my proposal. I will be on the horn with my team ASAP, ready to hit Manhattan like an '84 Camaro T-Top IROC-Z "gettin on it" in Pine Log, Georgia. Have my special Penny Hardaway shoes ready, a flat in the Meatpacking District next to James Gandolfini and a permanent reservation for me and Muggsy at Sparks Steakhouse after every game. Why Muggsy? Because I love Muggsy. And he's tiny, so he won't eat all his steak and that way, I get seconds for free. I told you, my appetite is legendary.
If this season locks out, I don't know if the NBA can recover. Small market teams like Sacramento and Indianapolis could fold (or hopefully move to a better city for basketball, like Pittsburgh or hell, add another New York team). Imagine, the New York Kings. Play their games at St. John's in Queens (the Kings of Queens....thank you, I'll be here all week) until their new arena is constructed next to Yankee Stadium in the Bronx. That would give New York three teams in three of the five boroughs (The Nets will be in Brooklyn in 2012) and NYC would embrace it. I have no doubt. Cities like Atlanta, Charlotte, Memphis and New Orleans would suffer immensely, as they have a hard time maintaining a fanbase in SEC football country anyway. A lockout would give the fans all the reason NOT to ever go back. NewYork, Chicago and LA would probably be OK. Minnesota and Toronto? Probably not. Oklahoma City? They just learned what basketball was about three years ago. I really hate to imagine the fallout.
So, as a solution to this madness, what shall we do?
Mr. Stern....this is my official declaration.....I will be a scab for the NBA. I'm 6'4, 196 lbs after lunch, I have tendinitis in my left knee so I can't dunk anymore and my shot is off because I've done too many wall balls at Crossfit. I don't have any tattoos (thanks to Granddaddy), no illegitimate kids (Shawn Kemp, where you at?), and I will take the league minimum. I get by on hustle, a mean streak, a mean right jump hook, and a lack of fear of injury and/or technical fouls. Essentially, I'm Dave Cowens with a side of Kevin McHale and a dash of Rasheed Wallace. Not too shabby huh? The fans can rally around my beard too. "Fear the Beard," they'll say. I'll even wear a headband if it will sell tickets and keep the League going. I would request a sweet Jumbotron video of me diving for a loose ball, limping away from a sweet finger roll where I crashed into ESPN's camerman, and giving Lakers fans the bird at the Staples Center. I must play at least twenty minutes per game. I would also encourage you to hire other scabs like me, just one per team though. The other members need to be retired players who are still pining away for the spotlight (because they never won a ring, their career didn't play out or just somebody you can't live without), and the lone scab gets to handpick those players. So, since I'm the lone scab, I'm picking my team:
Starters
G - Tim Hardaway (often injured, wasted best years in Golden State, needs to remake his image)
G - Penny Hardaway (injuries derailed him early and he never recovered, he MUST wear the old Penny shoes from 1993, I had em and loved em)
C - Patrick Ewing (never won a ring, has a theory about losing named after him, holds the NBA record for sweating profusely and having the biggest knee pads ever)
F- Me
F - Shawn Kemp (never won a ring, had 75 kids, never reached full potential. He would still keep his high top fade and all his kids would attend our games and have their own section)
Bench
F- Jack Haley (the greatest bench sitter ever, Rodman's best friend, Scalabrine wishes he was Haley)
F- Robert Horry (this guy is a four leaf clover, a rabbit's foot and your luckiest pair of socks all in one, has seven rings. If he and Steve Kerr went to Vegas with you, you would own Caesar's Palace before the night ended)
F- Charles Oakley (to protect me from all the fights I plan to start on the court, nobody wants a piece of Oak)
G- Trent Tucker (has an NBA rule named after him plus he has a beard too. And his name is alliteration, no brainer that he makes the squad.)
G- Muggsy Bogues (because I loved the Charlotte Hornets and Muggsy with a passion when I was 12. He is also 5'3 and had about ten blocked shots in his career, resulting in ten new oil changers down at Jiffy Lube)
G- Sedale Threatt (because I want to be able say his name a lot....See-Dale shoot, See-Dale run, See-Dale score, instant poster/rally cry)
C - Kevin Duckworth (simply a mammoth human being, like 7'0, 365 and had a wingspan of 11' 7" but it takes two minutes for him to run from paint to paint, when he fouls somebody they usually die on the way to the hospital)
C- Eddie Lee Wilkins (born and raised in Cassville, Georgia. Two guys from Cassville in the NBA at the same time. That's never happened before, strangely, but by God, it's happening now)
Could you imagine the fun we'd have? We would of course be the scabs for the New York Knicks, unless the Kings relocated. I can see it now, Trent Tucker and I in a barbershop (like the one in Coming to America) in the Bronx getting our beards trimmed at the same time. Me, Oakley and Duckworth going out to bars and I just try to start trouble so Oak can wreck somebody and Duckworth clears the entire place out with one swing. I help smooth things over with Tim Hardaway and the gay community by getting him a Prada endorsement. Penny wears his shoes everywhere. Shawn Kemp has three more kids during training camp. One of Ewing's kneepads is used to break the fall of a suicidal Wall Street tycoon who bet everything on a failed dot com and jumped from the Empire State Building, which is luckily next to Madison Square Garden. Eddie Lee and I stealing road signs off Broadway like we are on Cass-White Road all over again. What a season. I predict 79-3 with us sweeping the scab Timberwolves in their last season before they move to Fargo, North Dakota.
Alas, it will be a dream. It looks like a lockout, y'all. However, I hope Mr. Stern reads and considers my proposal. I will be on the horn with my team ASAP, ready to hit Manhattan like an '84 Camaro T-Top IROC-Z "gettin on it" in Pine Log, Georgia. Have my special Penny Hardaway shoes ready, a flat in the Meatpacking District next to James Gandolfini and a permanent reservation for me and Muggsy at Sparks Steakhouse after every game. Why Muggsy? Because I love Muggsy. And he's tiny, so he won't eat all his steak and that way, I get seconds for free. I told you, my appetite is legendary.
Friday, October 7, 2011
Misspelled Words and Drunk Chainsawing...Cassville Pastimes
Nothing drives me more crazy than mispronounced, misspelled and incorrectly used words. It is my number one pet peeve. Some people don't like smacking food at the dinner table, people who click pens 1,000 times while they are sitting at a desk, or late night barking dogs, but I'm ok with it. You can smack at the dinner table but you better not misspell "Hollandaise." Your Rockwaller (Rottweiler) can yap all night next door, but you better not say "I got up and consequently went to work," or I will scream "redundant, useless adverb!" and throw things at your car.
However, the result of my number one pet peeve is often quite humorous. Down here, we are not afraid to misspell words and completely destroy the English language. We Southerners lay waste to verbiage worse than Amy Winehouse at an "all you can smoke" crack buffet. (Still too soon? Oh well.) Hell, in my tiny map dot, we are downright famous for our butcherings. As mentioned in a previous post, within a 1/2 mile of the store, there was a road sign that had been vandalized with "No Mercey" in red paint. It remained there for years. We also had "Peach's For Sell;" "Houses 4 Sell Buy Owner;" "Gerage Sales;" "Church Benifit for Pawpaws Serjury;" and my personal favorite, "Larry's Lawn Care and Maintenants: Fast n' Convineenent."
No, really. The guy came to the store with a roll of duct tape and a neon green posterboard and asked if he could put his advertisement up. Who was I to say no? He quickly affixed his masterpiece to the Coke Machine among the other posters: A wrestling ad informing the Cassville faithful that "Beautiful" Bobby Eaton would be at the Dairi King (yes, King, my C'ville peeps may remember this place) as a guest referee and another ad for chow puppies. In Cassville, we are not afraid to have some chows. In fact, any small town down South is full of chows. I guarantee that when somebody fills out an application to live in a trailer park, there is a box to check that says "Chows." If yes, how many and are you expecting puppies? If no, please return from whence you came. Anyhow, apparently "convineenent" was a little too long, so the first five letters were huge and the last few were tiny, so he could squeeze the entire word on the posterboard. Resourceful. I almost fired our lawn guy right then and hired Larry.
Speaking of resourceful, one of our old neighbors, Danny (name changed to protect the...innocent?) had trouble with a huge oak tree on his property. It had been struck by lightning and was dying more and more every day, to the point where he was worried that it was going to fall on his house, or worse yet, his truck. He talked about it for days. He couldn't afford a tree service and Georgia Power refused to take it down because it was not physically touching the power lines. What does Danny do? What any good Cassvillian does in this situation. You buy five cases of Natty Light, have a party and when everybody is ripped out of frame, you get out your chainsaw and annihilate the offending tree yourself. Hell, he even bought a chainsaw file from me that morning. That's determination. There were several problems with this, though:
Number One: The tree was GINORMOUS. (not a word, I use it for effect, sue me)
Number Two: The tree could only fall one of two ways, in the street or on his house.
Number Three: Everybody is piss drunk, Don Williams' hit "Tulsa Time" is blaring over the speakers and nobody is paying a lick of attention to Danny, sawing away shirtless with jean shorts and a Marlboro hanging out of his lip.
Two hours of cutting and the oak tree is ready to hit the dirt. It lurches, pops and cracks, and falls directly in the street, destroying the power lines, the transformer and the pole it was affixed upon. A huge ball of flame erupts from the transformer and the power in Cassville is history for three hours. I scramble around at the store, putting milk and lunch meat on ice trying to keep it from spoiling, cursing Danny but laughing at the same time. The cops and Georgia Power arrive in a flash (aka slower than frozen pond water). There's Danny, covered in wood chips, drunk as Cooter Brown's second cousin....saying "I tried to tell y'all!" The cops take charge "throw down the chainsaw, sir." Danny replies that he paid too much for this Husqvarna (he can spell that correctly, by God) and opts to return the chainsaw to its case gently. "Now, it's touching the gotdam par (power) lines!" he exclaims. He is hauled off to jail as Georgia Power begins the long process of fileting the dead tree and replacing the power lines. Danny is a legend, he really is.
So, what do we surmise from this? In Cassville, we may not be able to spell very well, we may have too many chows, and we may not be able to drunk chainsaw worth a damn, but we know how to get the State of Georgia and its numerous entities to get off their keysters and help us.....whether its convineenent for them or not. Bless us.
However, the result of my number one pet peeve is often quite humorous. Down here, we are not afraid to misspell words and completely destroy the English language. We Southerners lay waste to verbiage worse than Amy Winehouse at an "all you can smoke" crack buffet. (Still too soon? Oh well.) Hell, in my tiny map dot, we are downright famous for our butcherings. As mentioned in a previous post, within a 1/2 mile of the store, there was a road sign that had been vandalized with "No Mercey" in red paint. It remained there for years. We also had "Peach's For Sell;" "Houses 4 Sell Buy Owner;" "Gerage Sales;" "Church Benifit for Pawpaws Serjury;" and my personal favorite, "Larry's Lawn Care and Maintenants: Fast n' Convineenent."
No, really. The guy came to the store with a roll of duct tape and a neon green posterboard and asked if he could put his advertisement up. Who was I to say no? He quickly affixed his masterpiece to the Coke Machine among the other posters: A wrestling ad informing the Cassville faithful that "Beautiful" Bobby Eaton would be at the Dairi King (yes, King, my C'ville peeps may remember this place) as a guest referee and another ad for chow puppies. In Cassville, we are not afraid to have some chows. In fact, any small town down South is full of chows. I guarantee that when somebody fills out an application to live in a trailer park, there is a box to check that says "Chows." If yes, how many and are you expecting puppies? If no, please return from whence you came. Anyhow, apparently "convineenent" was a little too long, so the first five letters were huge and the last few were tiny, so he could squeeze the entire word on the posterboard. Resourceful. I almost fired our lawn guy right then and hired Larry.
Speaking of resourceful, one of our old neighbors, Danny (name changed to protect the...innocent?) had trouble with a huge oak tree on his property. It had been struck by lightning and was dying more and more every day, to the point where he was worried that it was going to fall on his house, or worse yet, his truck. He talked about it for days. He couldn't afford a tree service and Georgia Power refused to take it down because it was not physically touching the power lines. What does Danny do? What any good Cassvillian does in this situation. You buy five cases of Natty Light, have a party and when everybody is ripped out of frame, you get out your chainsaw and annihilate the offending tree yourself. Hell, he even bought a chainsaw file from me that morning. That's determination. There were several problems with this, though:
Number One: The tree was GINORMOUS. (not a word, I use it for effect, sue me)
Number Two: The tree could only fall one of two ways, in the street or on his house.
Number Three: Everybody is piss drunk, Don Williams' hit "Tulsa Time" is blaring over the speakers and nobody is paying a lick of attention to Danny, sawing away shirtless with jean shorts and a Marlboro hanging out of his lip.
Two hours of cutting and the oak tree is ready to hit the dirt. It lurches, pops and cracks, and falls directly in the street, destroying the power lines, the transformer and the pole it was affixed upon. A huge ball of flame erupts from the transformer and the power in Cassville is history for three hours. I scramble around at the store, putting milk and lunch meat on ice trying to keep it from spoiling, cursing Danny but laughing at the same time. The cops and Georgia Power arrive in a flash (aka slower than frozen pond water). There's Danny, covered in wood chips, drunk as Cooter Brown's second cousin....saying "I tried to tell y'all!" The cops take charge "throw down the chainsaw, sir." Danny replies that he paid too much for this Husqvarna (he can spell that correctly, by God) and opts to return the chainsaw to its case gently. "Now, it's touching the gotdam par (power) lines!" he exclaims. He is hauled off to jail as Georgia Power begins the long process of fileting the dead tree and replacing the power lines. Danny is a legend, he really is.
So, what do we surmise from this? In Cassville, we may not be able to spell very well, we may have too many chows, and we may not be able to drunk chainsaw worth a damn, but we know how to get the State of Georgia and its numerous entities to get off their keysters and help us.....whether its convineenent for them or not. Bless us.
Wednesday, October 5, 2011
You Need to Be a Part of It...New York, New York
It's May 2008. I get on the plane wondering, "what the heck have I agreed to here?" Laura kept reassuring me that I would not be robbed at gunpoint as soon as we stepped off the plane. It was her idea to take me to New York. I would have been just fine on a boat in the Keys or putting away some cold ones in the mountains. Nope. I gave it a shot. All the stereotypes swelled in my head..."all yankees are rude, New York is too big, its too cold, its a crime ridden cess pool of blacktop and honking horns..." You know, all the things that so many Southerners say about New York their entire lives...without actually setting foot in any state further north than Tennessee.
I had been warned before I left.
"Boy, you better get a permit and carry a Glock upair (up there) cause they'll knife you for sure!"
Getting "knifed" is a wonderful old school Southern word. I remember when the old men used to talk about a bar that existed near Kingston, Georgia. It was the kind of place where they swept up the teeth on the floor at the end of every night and shady deals were done over shots of liquor. Even the cops stayed away. I asked Billy if he ever went in there...
"Hayul (Hell) no! That place was rough, boy. They shoot ya, or sh*t, they'd knife ya for just looking crossways in there."
If Kingston (pop. 2,000 plus 4,000 cows) was so bad, there is no telling what New York City (pop. 9,000,000) would be like. I was likely to get knifed in a hurry, since we actually landed in Newark, New Jersey. New Jersey, according to most Southerners, is simply giant prison with oil refineries and nobody is nice. In fact, it's against the law. We gathered our luggage and walked outside to catch a cab to NYC. I fully expected the cold Northern air to freeze me solid, like Han Solo in carbonite. My Dad would have to fly the Millenium Falcon to Jersey and bust me out. Lo and behold, it was 75 degrees. The cabbie was a really nice man from Ghana, who took us through the Lincoln Tunnel and into Manhattan. Before we hit the Tunnel, he said, "now you will see the skyline to your left." It materialized before my eyes. I probably looked like a 5 year old with my face smashed into the glass. I had never seen anything like it in my life. (that's what she said!) I always thought Atlanta was big, but I quickly realized that you could fit 10 Atlantas in NYC and not notice it.
He turned down by Grand Central Station and went to 48th Street, where our hotel was located. As I opened my door, I looked for stray knives flying through the air or packs of thugs prepared to rob us as soon as we hit the pavement. There were none. There was no snow either. A nice doorman assisted us with our bags, called me "sir" and said "Welcome to New York." I quickly took off my helmet, flak jacket, my bandolier of 50 cal. rounds and threw away my Mace and the Life Alert I had dangling from my neck. We unpacked our suitcases and threw ourselves to the mercy of the city, electing to head north to see Grand Central.
The next five days were five of the most wonderful days I have ever spent in my life. It started at Grand Central and ended when I watched the skyline disappear in the rearview heading back to Jersey. Every stereotype, everything I had ever heard about New York that would turn you off, was dead wrong. I rode the subway without incident, in fact, it was one of the most efficient mass transit systems I have ever seen. I wasn't hassled by homeless every three steps...the same cannot be said for Atlanta, that's for sure. I remember I was only begged for money once, and a giant Italian beat cop walked over and told the man to "get lost." He apologized to me and said, "that don't go around here." That's another saying from back home and it warmed the heart, it really did. I almost asked him if he would say, "Leave the gun, take the cannolis" but I did not want to push my luck. (+1 for the Godfather reference) In any event, I never felt unsafe. I would go as far to say that I would rather walk down 5th Avenue at 4 AM than Glade Road in Acworth, Georgia.
Speaking of food, if you are a hungry man like me, then New York is your place. Amongst my friends, my appetite is quite legendary. I was like a pig in slop. Hot dogs and pizza (the best ever) on the street, steak and fish in the restaurants, the best sushi ever.....hell, I even tried a knish, which was not so good. I got verklempt and ended up looking like a schlemiel. (+2 for Saturday Night Live and Independence Day reference) Little Italy was a small slice of heaven for yours truly. A real cannoli made by real Italians, with older Italian guys hanging around the front door of the restaurant like Goodfellas. Another group was watching harness races on a giant television with cigars in every single mouth. As I walked out, I said, "y'all have a good one, fellas." One of them exclaimed, "hey, listen to the manners on this one, hey, youse come back anytime!" Oh I will, Salvatore, I will. (That's what I imagined his name to be)
I did the all tourist stuff. The Empire State building. Rockefeller Center. NBC Studios. Central Park. All very worthwhile and I actually saw where Sinead O'Connor burned that picture of the Pope on SNL in the early 90's. I always liked her music, I ain't gonna lie, but what a moron. Speaking of Catholicism, I also went to St. Patrick's Cathedral. A very moving experience for this Baptist, I can assure you. I' ve been to New York six times since and I go to St. Patrick's every single time. After St. Patrick's, I realize a few things...I haven't been robbed yet, I'm still not frozen and not one single person has been rude to me. In fact, I was taking a stroll by myself one morning and got on the subway to go downtown. I got lost and pulled out a map. Within seconds, three New Yorkers were telling me exactly where I should go. "Where are you from?" they would say chuckling. I would tell them and they would reply, "We hope you really enjoy New York and have fun!" You think that would happen in Atlanta? Hell to the naw, Bobby.
The bar/nightlife scene is incomparable. No, really, I felt like a freshman in Athens again, I was so excited. Except I was going to places that had been in business since 1925 and Joe Dimaggio used to drink dry martinis there or Mickey Mantle had a beer there after a three home run game. I call my Mom and Dad and tell them that I just sat in a booth where Frank Sinatra had a drink in 1947. I cannot get over the history of these places. Strangely, everybody gets along too. There were no bar fights, no drama, no old grudges being settled and the NYPD showing up and throwing everybody out. (the last three times I've been out in Atlanta, there was a fight in the bar) I went to the oldest bar in the United States, a place called McSorley's. I sat down and ordered a beer and the bartender, hearing my Cassville drawl, said "What part of Brooklyn are YOU from?" I knew I would love this place and I had about twenty new friends by the end of the night.
So, with every stereotype basically destroyed, all I had left was a town with insanely good food, an incomparable nightlife, decent weather, history around every corner, and very nice people who are fiercely proud of their town. Kind of like back home, except for the nightlife. Trying to steal road signs in Manhattan would be next to impossible and it's pretty hard to roll a brownstone on 54th Street with 25,000 people looking at you. That being said, we are not all that different, Southerners and New Yorkers. We are proud of who we are and do not apologize for it. Their lifestyle may not suit you, but I encourage any Southerner to give it a chance, I promise you will not regret it.
Just don't get a damn knish......oy vey.
I had been warned before I left.
"Boy, you better get a permit and carry a Glock upair (up there) cause they'll knife you for sure!"
Getting "knifed" is a wonderful old school Southern word. I remember when the old men used to talk about a bar that existed near Kingston, Georgia. It was the kind of place where they swept up the teeth on the floor at the end of every night and shady deals were done over shots of liquor. Even the cops stayed away. I asked Billy if he ever went in there...
"Hayul (Hell) no! That place was rough, boy. They shoot ya, or sh*t, they'd knife ya for just looking crossways in there."
If Kingston (pop. 2,000 plus 4,000 cows) was so bad, there is no telling what New York City (pop. 9,000,000) would be like. I was likely to get knifed in a hurry, since we actually landed in Newark, New Jersey. New Jersey, according to most Southerners, is simply giant prison with oil refineries and nobody is nice. In fact, it's against the law. We gathered our luggage and walked outside to catch a cab to NYC. I fully expected the cold Northern air to freeze me solid, like Han Solo in carbonite. My Dad would have to fly the Millenium Falcon to Jersey and bust me out. Lo and behold, it was 75 degrees. The cabbie was a really nice man from Ghana, who took us through the Lincoln Tunnel and into Manhattan. Before we hit the Tunnel, he said, "now you will see the skyline to your left." It materialized before my eyes. I probably looked like a 5 year old with my face smashed into the glass. I had never seen anything like it in my life. (that's what she said!) I always thought Atlanta was big, but I quickly realized that you could fit 10 Atlantas in NYC and not notice it.
He turned down by Grand Central Station and went to 48th Street, where our hotel was located. As I opened my door, I looked for stray knives flying through the air or packs of thugs prepared to rob us as soon as we hit the pavement. There were none. There was no snow either. A nice doorman assisted us with our bags, called me "sir" and said "Welcome to New York." I quickly took off my helmet, flak jacket, my bandolier of 50 cal. rounds and threw away my Mace and the Life Alert I had dangling from my neck. We unpacked our suitcases and threw ourselves to the mercy of the city, electing to head north to see Grand Central.
The next five days were five of the most wonderful days I have ever spent in my life. It started at Grand Central and ended when I watched the skyline disappear in the rearview heading back to Jersey. Every stereotype, everything I had ever heard about New York that would turn you off, was dead wrong. I rode the subway without incident, in fact, it was one of the most efficient mass transit systems I have ever seen. I wasn't hassled by homeless every three steps...the same cannot be said for Atlanta, that's for sure. I remember I was only begged for money once, and a giant Italian beat cop walked over and told the man to "get lost." He apologized to me and said, "that don't go around here." That's another saying from back home and it warmed the heart, it really did. I almost asked him if he would say, "Leave the gun, take the cannolis" but I did not want to push my luck. (+1 for the Godfather reference) In any event, I never felt unsafe. I would go as far to say that I would rather walk down 5th Avenue at 4 AM than Glade Road in Acworth, Georgia.
Speaking of food, if you are a hungry man like me, then New York is your place. Amongst my friends, my appetite is quite legendary. I was like a pig in slop. Hot dogs and pizza (the best ever) on the street, steak and fish in the restaurants, the best sushi ever.....hell, I even tried a knish, which was not so good. I got verklempt and ended up looking like a schlemiel. (+2 for Saturday Night Live and Independence Day reference) Little Italy was a small slice of heaven for yours truly. A real cannoli made by real Italians, with older Italian guys hanging around the front door of the restaurant like Goodfellas. Another group was watching harness races on a giant television with cigars in every single mouth. As I walked out, I said, "y'all have a good one, fellas." One of them exclaimed, "hey, listen to the manners on this one, hey, youse come back anytime!" Oh I will, Salvatore, I will. (That's what I imagined his name to be)
I did the all tourist stuff. The Empire State building. Rockefeller Center. NBC Studios. Central Park. All very worthwhile and I actually saw where Sinead O'Connor burned that picture of the Pope on SNL in the early 90's. I always liked her music, I ain't gonna lie, but what a moron. Speaking of Catholicism, I also went to St. Patrick's Cathedral. A very moving experience for this Baptist, I can assure you. I' ve been to New York six times since and I go to St. Patrick's every single time. After St. Patrick's, I realize a few things...I haven't been robbed yet, I'm still not frozen and not one single person has been rude to me. In fact, I was taking a stroll by myself one morning and got on the subway to go downtown. I got lost and pulled out a map. Within seconds, three New Yorkers were telling me exactly where I should go. "Where are you from?" they would say chuckling. I would tell them and they would reply, "We hope you really enjoy New York and have fun!" You think that would happen in Atlanta? Hell to the naw, Bobby.
The bar/nightlife scene is incomparable. No, really, I felt like a freshman in Athens again, I was so excited. Except I was going to places that had been in business since 1925 and Joe Dimaggio used to drink dry martinis there or Mickey Mantle had a beer there after a three home run game. I call my Mom and Dad and tell them that I just sat in a booth where Frank Sinatra had a drink in 1947. I cannot get over the history of these places. Strangely, everybody gets along too. There were no bar fights, no drama, no old grudges being settled and the NYPD showing up and throwing everybody out. (the last three times I've been out in Atlanta, there was a fight in the bar) I went to the oldest bar in the United States, a place called McSorley's. I sat down and ordered a beer and the bartender, hearing my Cassville drawl, said "What part of Brooklyn are YOU from?" I knew I would love this place and I had about twenty new friends by the end of the night.
So, with every stereotype basically destroyed, all I had left was a town with insanely good food, an incomparable nightlife, decent weather, history around every corner, and very nice people who are fiercely proud of their town. Kind of like back home, except for the nightlife. Trying to steal road signs in Manhattan would be next to impossible and it's pretty hard to roll a brownstone on 54th Street with 25,000 people looking at you. That being said, we are not all that different, Southerners and New Yorkers. We are proud of who we are and do not apologize for it. Their lifestyle may not suit you, but I encourage any Southerner to give it a chance, I promise you will not regret it.
Just don't get a damn knish......oy vey.
Sunday, October 2, 2011
Recap of the Weekend...or being 3-2 is not as good as Little Italy pizza
So, the Dawgs were victorious this Saturday, taking home a 24-10 victory over the other Bulldogs from the "Crooked Letter, Crooked Letter." They were not as physical, nor were they as offensively sound as I thought they would be. They did try to start a fight at midfield before the game by gathering on our "G" and jumping around. Our players took umbriage and ran to defend our turf. I saw Jarvis Jones running, with his dreads flying in the wind, challenging about ten of them. That man is the Predator. I fully expected a tiny gun to appear out of his shoulder pads and barbeque one of them, ala Jesse "The Body" Ventura. He should barbeque some of our fans too, as the stadium was about 80% full at kickoff. You know what, though? I think the Johnny Come Latelys are all gone now and I'm glad, stay gone. Bunch of slack jawed......
Going with that theme, our defense dug in like an Alabama tick and didn't have time to bleed. Poor Chris Relf ran for his life all game long. They had no running game. Cornelius Washington actually ate Chris Relf when he sacked him in the first quarter, but not before he discarded their right tackle with a forearm shiver that would have made the Ultimate Warrior proud. The offense clicked with Crowell running like he stole something and Malcolm Mitchell coming up with great catches and runs that they could not stop. When halftime rolled around, I was feeling pretty good. 21-3 and they were looking more run over than Lindsey Lohan's mug shot.
The second half was like watching paint dry, offensively. In typical fashion, we played a vanilla offense and pissed away two or three touchdowns with obscenely conservative play calling. We play not to lose, instead of putting the hammer down and flattening them. We had a 3rd and inches and Bobo calls an off tackle run, which was stopped short. WE HAVE THE BIGGEST O-LINE IN THE COUNTRY. Our RB on the play, Richard Samuel, is 6'2 235 lbs. RUN THE BALL DOWN THEIR %&$% THROAT! We botched a field goal snap. Crowell had 7 yards in the second half. Murray threw two interceptions. A cacophony of bonehead plays and a frustrating lack of energy or urgency to make a statement. The defense was still going strong, however. Todd Grantham has got our boys playing like their heads are on fire. Nobody is scoring on us now. Nobody is running on us. We are picking passes off left and right. There is a chastity belt on our end zone and Grantham has buried the key with Jimmy Hoffa. Although I left frustrated, it was still a win in the SEC and you cannot look a gift horse in the mouth, I guess. I swear, after the game ended, Jarvis Jones started punching buttons on his wrist and killed two or three Mississippians. He is the Predator. Seriously.
After the game, we hung out in Athens to let traffic clear and I annihilated two pieces of pizza at Little Italy. Little Italy is near and dear to the hearts of many UGA grads and I am no exception. That greasy goodness only cost me $5.00. In Atlanta, it would have been $15.00 and I would have had to share space with Tech people, so it was a no brainer. Then it was on to the house for the Bama-Florida finale. During the one-sided affair, where Alabama gave Florida a Cleveland Steamer in their own house, Gary Danielson announced that Georgia is now in the driver's seat in the East, with Carolina losing at home to Auburn. (which made me laugh to no end). Woohooo! We are in the driver's seat! But what the hell are we driving? Judging by our second half lapses in the last two games, I'm going with a 1988 Ford Aerostar Van with a donut on the right rear wheel. At first, it ran well and served a purpose, but then it got too many miles on it and minivans became the butt of too many jokes. Oh well, I will take it if we get to Atlanta in December. We better be driving a 1969 Pontiac GTO when that day comes, though.
Then I got to thinking, SEC programs are like cars, they all have their own personality/reputation that is unique to them. You would never confuse Alabama for Vanderbilt, just like you would not confuse a Silverado for an Isuzu PUP. So, I decided to make my list of what vehicle matches up with an SEC team based on their performance/reputation. This list is brought to you by The Spin Doctors, Amy Grant, Sublime and Charlie Daniels (that's what is playing on the Ipod and I'm random like that, sue me)
SEC EAST
1) Florida Gators
The Florida Gators are a 1999 Blue Ford Mustang convertible with chrome rims and a vanity plate. They have always been around and had good years in suprts, but their popularity waned for about twenty years until they changed some things up (Spurrier) and they exploded. Everybody gets tired of them, and they are little bit redneck/obnoxious, but they are a pretty good product at the end of the day. It's just that the wrong people get their hands on them, unfortunately.
2) Georgia Bulldogs
My Dawgs are a 1973 Red and White Ford Gran Torino. It's a nice ride, and a lot of people really like it (a lot really hate it too), but it just cannot get itself included in the "best ever" categories for one reason or another. Thank God for Starsky and Hutch or this car's popularity wouldn't be anywhere near what it is. (1980-1983, Herschel, etc) It's kind of redneck but enough blue bloods think they are cool to keep it somewhat genteel.
3) Kentucky Wildcats
The Cats are an early 70's Plymouth Roadrunner with its trademark giant spoiler. They only show up once every twenty years and are really good (1977 for Kentucky) and then disappear for years. They simply cannot get it right anymore and their fanbase, while loyal, is tiny and hard to find. It's not a bad car and the giant spoiler sets it apart and gets it recognized, but that's about it. (Jared Lorenzen, nuf said)
4) South Carolina Gamecocks
The Cocks are a 1993 Honda Prelude with 280,000 miles. It's not flashy, it's not winning any awards and has no history to speak of, but it's been around forever and won't go away anytime soon. It has loyal fanbase and there are lots of them, but at the end of the day, you tend to forget about them. It's a decent car but you'll never hear anyone say, "That Honda Prelude is the best car on the road today."
5) Tennessee Volunteers
The Vols are a 1989 IROC-Z Camaro with T-Tops. It has a proud history with many great years but it has been taken over by rednecks and its reputation has taken a hit. One year, it's growling in the left lane on the Interstate and blowing by you, and the next year, it's on blocks in a trailer park in Ringgold, Georgia. It has a loyal following, 1/2 are rednecks who don't know what they have and the other 1/2 just wish for the good ol days.
6) Vanderbilt Commodores
The Dores are a 1985 DeLorean. It doesn't belong. It's weird. Most people don't know how or why it came to be. Before it can do anything great, it needs 1.21 jigowatts of electricity and Marty McFly. (a coach and lower academic standards) It was in Back to the Future, so that's a plus. (Vandy's in Nashville) It's the butt of jokes and will never be taken seriously, but doggone it, you pull for em.
SEC WEST
1) Alabama Crimson Tide
The Tide is a 1963 Corvette with a Supercharged engine. They have been around a long time and have a very storied history and most people respect them. There is also a large gathering of people who hate them. Their fans are loyal to a fault and are not afraid to gush over their accomplishments, and it does have a redneck factor in there. They've had some years that were better than others (the 80's for Bama and for the Corvette), but the overall track record speaks for itself. The body style has changed but the name remains the same.
2) Auburn Tigers
Auburn is a 2003 Hummer with a lift kit and mud tires (ironically used in their recruiting trips in Chizik's first year, go figure). It explodes onto the scene and is mega popular and then bad things happen, facts and figures add up, and it's gone just that fast. (The Hummer was found to be a gas guzzling money pit, Auburn gets probation every ten years) They are somewhat obnoxious and not always dependable but they are pretty tough and pass the eye test most of the time (Hummers are pretty cool looking, as are Auburn's uniforms)
3) Arkansas Razorbacks
The Razorbacks are a 2001 2-door Ford Explorer. They were good in the past but now they are only driven by meth heads and pizza deliverymen. (The Explorer was unbelievably popular in the early 90's, Arkansas has some good years in the 60's) Nobody really knows much about them and there is nothing much to tell, they are fairly nondescript (Explorers are pretty bland when it comes to vehicles; I honestly do not know one single Arkansas fan, never been to Fayetteville, and have no clue who their rivals are) At the end of the day, it's not a bad ride but there is always something better out there.
4) LSU Tigers
The Bayou Bengals are a 1994 Chevrolet Z-71 with Flowmasters and a brush guard. A loud and boisterous vehicle that always looks like a tailgate party could break out at any second. (LSU has the wildest fans, period.) It burst on the scene only recently as a go-to truck but it has been a mainstay nationally ever since. (The Z-71 really took off in the early 90's; LSU in the early 2000's after being dormant for years) They are flashy, arrogant and there is a major redneck faction but you have to respect what they've accomplished. It's always good to have a friend with a big truck anyway. (LSU fans have the best tailgate food, period)
5) Ole Miss
The Rebels are a 2001 Land Rover with a flat tire. A very nice, relatively expensive vehicle that attracts the rich and shameless (Ole Miss is notorious for being private school U, lots of guys named Butler Browning IV, etc) It looks dang good and drives great when running, but it breaks down constantly and the repairs cost too much. (Ole Miss has the potential to be much more than they are as a football team, but you can't argue with the hotness of their female population) At the end of the day, it's all for show and you'd be better off with another car. (They can party, they have a cool town but their football team will likely never break the mold)
6) Mississippi State Bulldogs
The Starkville Bulldogs are 1995 Chevy S-10 with a cracked windshield. A very nondescipt truck with almost no reputation at all and only one true rival (Ole Miss is the only real rival I know of, the Ranger is Ford's answer to the S-10) You don't get really excited when they are around and it has a small engine (I don't know who State recruits nor do I know any Mississippi State fans and they have a tiny stadium) Every now and then it gets some attention but overall, it's an afterthought as a vehicle (They have the cowbells and State had a couple of good years with Jackie Sherill in the 90s but has never really been in the national title hunt in recent memory)
I hope everyone enjoyed the weekend. Congrats to the Tide and LSU for being #1 and #2 in the new poll. As for my Dawgs, we travel to Obnoxiousville to take on the Volunteers. If we come out with a win, I'll be happier than Cam Newton's dad was when the bagman showed up at his door and said, "here's your suitcase, sir."
Going with that theme, our defense dug in like an Alabama tick and didn't have time to bleed. Poor Chris Relf ran for his life all game long. They had no running game. Cornelius Washington actually ate Chris Relf when he sacked him in the first quarter, but not before he discarded their right tackle with a forearm shiver that would have made the Ultimate Warrior proud. The offense clicked with Crowell running like he stole something and Malcolm Mitchell coming up with great catches and runs that they could not stop. When halftime rolled around, I was feeling pretty good. 21-3 and they were looking more run over than Lindsey Lohan's mug shot.
The second half was like watching paint dry, offensively. In typical fashion, we played a vanilla offense and pissed away two or three touchdowns with obscenely conservative play calling. We play not to lose, instead of putting the hammer down and flattening them. We had a 3rd and inches and Bobo calls an off tackle run, which was stopped short. WE HAVE THE BIGGEST O-LINE IN THE COUNTRY. Our RB on the play, Richard Samuel, is 6'2 235 lbs. RUN THE BALL DOWN THEIR %&$% THROAT! We botched a field goal snap. Crowell had 7 yards in the second half. Murray threw two interceptions. A cacophony of bonehead plays and a frustrating lack of energy or urgency to make a statement. The defense was still going strong, however. Todd Grantham has got our boys playing like their heads are on fire. Nobody is scoring on us now. Nobody is running on us. We are picking passes off left and right. There is a chastity belt on our end zone and Grantham has buried the key with Jimmy Hoffa. Although I left frustrated, it was still a win in the SEC and you cannot look a gift horse in the mouth, I guess. I swear, after the game ended, Jarvis Jones started punching buttons on his wrist and killed two or three Mississippians. He is the Predator. Seriously.
After the game, we hung out in Athens to let traffic clear and I annihilated two pieces of pizza at Little Italy. Little Italy is near and dear to the hearts of many UGA grads and I am no exception. That greasy goodness only cost me $5.00. In Atlanta, it would have been $15.00 and I would have had to share space with Tech people, so it was a no brainer. Then it was on to the house for the Bama-Florida finale. During the one-sided affair, where Alabama gave Florida a Cleveland Steamer in their own house, Gary Danielson announced that Georgia is now in the driver's seat in the East, with Carolina losing at home to Auburn. (which made me laugh to no end). Woohooo! We are in the driver's seat! But what the hell are we driving? Judging by our second half lapses in the last two games, I'm going with a 1988 Ford Aerostar Van with a donut on the right rear wheel. At first, it ran well and served a purpose, but then it got too many miles on it and minivans became the butt of too many jokes. Oh well, I will take it if we get to Atlanta in December. We better be driving a 1969 Pontiac GTO when that day comes, though.
Then I got to thinking, SEC programs are like cars, they all have their own personality/reputation that is unique to them. You would never confuse Alabama for Vanderbilt, just like you would not confuse a Silverado for an Isuzu PUP. So, I decided to make my list of what vehicle matches up with an SEC team based on their performance/reputation. This list is brought to you by The Spin Doctors, Amy Grant, Sublime and Charlie Daniels (that's what is playing on the Ipod and I'm random like that, sue me)
SEC EAST
1) Florida Gators
The Florida Gators are a 1999 Blue Ford Mustang convertible with chrome rims and a vanity plate. They have always been around and had good years in suprts, but their popularity waned for about twenty years until they changed some things up (Spurrier) and they exploded. Everybody gets tired of them, and they are little bit redneck/obnoxious, but they are a pretty good product at the end of the day. It's just that the wrong people get their hands on them, unfortunately.
2) Georgia Bulldogs
My Dawgs are a 1973 Red and White Ford Gran Torino. It's a nice ride, and a lot of people really like it (a lot really hate it too), but it just cannot get itself included in the "best ever" categories for one reason or another. Thank God for Starsky and Hutch or this car's popularity wouldn't be anywhere near what it is. (1980-1983, Herschel, etc) It's kind of redneck but enough blue bloods think they are cool to keep it somewhat genteel.
3) Kentucky Wildcats
The Cats are an early 70's Plymouth Roadrunner with its trademark giant spoiler. They only show up once every twenty years and are really good (1977 for Kentucky) and then disappear for years. They simply cannot get it right anymore and their fanbase, while loyal, is tiny and hard to find. It's not a bad car and the giant spoiler sets it apart and gets it recognized, but that's about it. (Jared Lorenzen, nuf said)
4) South Carolina Gamecocks
The Cocks are a 1993 Honda Prelude with 280,000 miles. It's not flashy, it's not winning any awards and has no history to speak of, but it's been around forever and won't go away anytime soon. It has loyal fanbase and there are lots of them, but at the end of the day, you tend to forget about them. It's a decent car but you'll never hear anyone say, "That Honda Prelude is the best car on the road today."
5) Tennessee Volunteers
The Vols are a 1989 IROC-Z Camaro with T-Tops. It has a proud history with many great years but it has been taken over by rednecks and its reputation has taken a hit. One year, it's growling in the left lane on the Interstate and blowing by you, and the next year, it's on blocks in a trailer park in Ringgold, Georgia. It has a loyal following, 1/2 are rednecks who don't know what they have and the other 1/2 just wish for the good ol days.
6) Vanderbilt Commodores
The Dores are a 1985 DeLorean. It doesn't belong. It's weird. Most people don't know how or why it came to be. Before it can do anything great, it needs 1.21 jigowatts of electricity and Marty McFly. (a coach and lower academic standards) It was in Back to the Future, so that's a plus. (Vandy's in Nashville) It's the butt of jokes and will never be taken seriously, but doggone it, you pull for em.
SEC WEST
1) Alabama Crimson Tide
The Tide is a 1963 Corvette with a Supercharged engine. They have been around a long time and have a very storied history and most people respect them. There is also a large gathering of people who hate them. Their fans are loyal to a fault and are not afraid to gush over their accomplishments, and it does have a redneck factor in there. They've had some years that were better than others (the 80's for Bama and for the Corvette), but the overall track record speaks for itself. The body style has changed but the name remains the same.
2) Auburn Tigers
Auburn is a 2003 Hummer with a lift kit and mud tires (ironically used in their recruiting trips in Chizik's first year, go figure). It explodes onto the scene and is mega popular and then bad things happen, facts and figures add up, and it's gone just that fast. (The Hummer was found to be a gas guzzling money pit, Auburn gets probation every ten years) They are somewhat obnoxious and not always dependable but they are pretty tough and pass the eye test most of the time (Hummers are pretty cool looking, as are Auburn's uniforms)
3) Arkansas Razorbacks
The Razorbacks are a 2001 2-door Ford Explorer. They were good in the past but now they are only driven by meth heads and pizza deliverymen. (The Explorer was unbelievably popular in the early 90's, Arkansas has some good years in the 60's) Nobody really knows much about them and there is nothing much to tell, they are fairly nondescript (Explorers are pretty bland when it comes to vehicles; I honestly do not know one single Arkansas fan, never been to Fayetteville, and have no clue who their rivals are) At the end of the day, it's not a bad ride but there is always something better out there.
4) LSU Tigers
The Bayou Bengals are a 1994 Chevrolet Z-71 with Flowmasters and a brush guard. A loud and boisterous vehicle that always looks like a tailgate party could break out at any second. (LSU has the wildest fans, period.) It burst on the scene only recently as a go-to truck but it has been a mainstay nationally ever since. (The Z-71 really took off in the early 90's; LSU in the early 2000's after being dormant for years) They are flashy, arrogant and there is a major redneck faction but you have to respect what they've accomplished. It's always good to have a friend with a big truck anyway. (LSU fans have the best tailgate food, period)
5) Ole Miss
The Rebels are a 2001 Land Rover with a flat tire. A very nice, relatively expensive vehicle that attracts the rich and shameless (Ole Miss is notorious for being private school U, lots of guys named Butler Browning IV, etc) It looks dang good and drives great when running, but it breaks down constantly and the repairs cost too much. (Ole Miss has the potential to be much more than they are as a football team, but you can't argue with the hotness of their female population) At the end of the day, it's all for show and you'd be better off with another car. (They can party, they have a cool town but their football team will likely never break the mold)
6) Mississippi State Bulldogs
The Starkville Bulldogs are 1995 Chevy S-10 with a cracked windshield. A very nondescipt truck with almost no reputation at all and only one true rival (Ole Miss is the only real rival I know of, the Ranger is Ford's answer to the S-10) You don't get really excited when they are around and it has a small engine (I don't know who State recruits nor do I know any Mississippi State fans and they have a tiny stadium) Every now and then it gets some attention but overall, it's an afterthought as a vehicle (They have the cowbells and State had a couple of good years with Jackie Sherill in the 90s but has never really been in the national title hunt in recent memory)
I hope everyone enjoyed the weekend. Congrats to the Tide and LSU for being #1 and #2 in the new poll. As for my Dawgs, we travel to Obnoxiousville to take on the Volunteers. If we come out with a win, I'll be happier than Cam Newton's dad was when the bagman showed up at his door and said, "here's your suitcase, sir."
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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.