Recap of the Weekend: Full expectations, hurricanes, tornadoes and Dawgs back in the saddle.

I suppose y'all are aware of the current weather situation we are facing here in NYC. Fear not, my fellow Georgians. After dealing with 6,743 tornadoes, a blizzard, hurricanes coming out of the Gulf and people from Cassville/Adairsville/Pine Log all my life, I'm basically prepared for anything. I have canned goods, water, flashlights, candles, charged Ipads with 11,298 songs and two bottles of Gentleman Jack. In fact, I've already been singing tributes to our fair maiden approaching from the South, as her winds pick up on my street.

"Sandy, you're a fine girl, what a good wife you would be"

"Sandy, Sandy...when will those clouds disappear?"

"Sandy, what you gonna do, I think I could stay with you"

I always felt like tornadoes were much worse, to be honest. They are much more unpredictable and their power, while short-lived, is concentrated insanity. In the South, tornadoes are part of life. Every March and April, you have to watch the skies. If you recorded movies off the television in the 90's, I guarantee that at least half of them had a tornado warning running across the bottom of the screen. I'll never forget listening to the radio during power outages, usually 102.3 out of Rome:

"Alright y'all, we got us a report of a touchdown in the Chulio Road area, everybody down yonder needs to take cover."

We knew that it was time to go into hiding. That area was directly in line with Cassville and the whole family would pile up in a closet and hope it wasn't our turn. Honestly, that is all you can do. We did it so many times in the 90's that it became like clockwork. I would trot down the hall, "walking the mile, walking the mile." (+1 for Green Mile reference) Tornadoes get shortchanged in terms of weather notoriety, though. Why? They don't have names. Every hurricane and tropical storm gets a handle. In fact, there have been people who have complained that the names of these storms are not ethnic enough. Seriously, google it. If you have time to bitch about the racial indifference of the names of a large collection of cumulonimbus clouds in the Atlantic Ocean, then you need a hobby or need to get hit over the head by a tack hammer, because you are a moron. (+1 for Tommy Boy reference) I started naming tornadoes in 1994. No longer would I stand by and allow this injustice to permeate Southern culture. Of course, I keep them Cassville-centric in name and nature.

"You think that tornado was bad? Y'all should have seen Shane in June or Chastity in May, them storms were rough, y'all. I swear, when Dwayne blew through here last August, I thought for sure we would be getting a new deck."

I am going to ride this storm out in style. However, I know Sandy is serious for one reason, and one reason only.....Jim Cantore is here. He reported from Battery Park last night and I swear I saw drool coming out of his mouth when he described the possible damage she is going to do. Jim Cantore is the homing beacon of bad weather and when he comes to your hometown, you know bad things are about to happen. He was in Georgia last April when the tornadoes decimated parts of Bartow County. He was in Alabama. He was in New Orleans. When the Apocalypse comes, Jim Cantore will be there, telling Satan to get out of his shot of the rivers running red and the frogs raining down from the sky. 

Speaking of hurricanes, Category 5 Hurricane Jarvis blew into Jacksonville, Florida last Saturday with a vengeance. He laid waste to the Florida Gators, causing havoc and mayhem, doing damage and left the landscape completely flattened in a three hour assault of epic proportions. This storm was completely unexpected by the white trash Gainesville natives and their double wides floated down the St. John's River, along with their perfect season, their dignity, half of Jeff Driskel's brain cells, and Will Muschamp's medulla oblongata, which fell out after six post game aneurysms. Few wins have been more enjoyable. Few times have I wished harm upon opposing players more than on Saturday. Luckily, our boys obliged my bloodthirst and came at Florida unlike I had ever seen before, at least defensively.

We set the tone early, when Kosta "The Greek Streak II" Vavlas waylaid their kickoff return man on the first play. You could tell we were fired up. Florida instantly got a false start penalty, had a bad snap and went three and out. We get the ball and march right down their throats and score on a great run by Gurley. I thought to myself, "could we actually do this?" Then I remembered all the big games we had lost in the last four years and tempered myself. I remembered the beating we took from Bama in 2008. The 6-7 2010 season. Getting killed by LSU in the SEC Championship after leading at the half. We are preordained to lose this one. As Florida marched right down the field, my suspicions got confirmed with each first down. Driskel, while erratic, was doing pretty well against us and I thought, "here we go again." We force a fourth and one, however, on our 21 yard line. The Gators line up to go for it and you can tell this is one of those plays that can define a game. I just knew they would bust a 10 yarder and break our backs right there....

Shawn Williams. That name will ring forever if this season turns out to be a great one. He took the reigns earlier this week and called the defense out for being "soft." In a public interview, he lambasted our own people, some by name and others were implied. He even threw a verbal jab at the coaches for playing the wrong people. He is a senior from Damascus, Georgia with nothing to lose, so why not? Nothing he said was false. Nothing he said was embellished. All you had to do was look at our performance against Carolina and Kentucky to verify it. Well, apparently Shawn Williams struck a nerve. A big one. Not just with the entire defense, but with himself as well. On the fourth and one, Florida sweeps to the left and pitches to a receiver entrusted with the ball to get that one yard. As the play develops, you could see his hole. "Oh damn, he's going to get exactly one yard and keep this drive alive," I thought. The blockers were in place and he was headed to the marker. Suddenly, Shawn Williams shucks his blocker and darts right up to their receiver, grabs him around the neck and tackles him so violently that the Florida trainers spent the next five minutes wrapping his ribs in dressing, apparently some of them were broken. He was one inch short. He was also out for the game and another Florida lineman limped off the field on the same play. I watched the kids from the same dirt roads that I grew up on...kids from Damascus, Columbus, Keysville, Donalsonville, and Valdosta running off the field, telling Florida, "this ain't the 90's anymore." (I just got a chill typing this) Will Muschamp had a mini stroke on the sidelines and they looked panicked. Ripe for the picking.

Aaron Murray tried his best to give the game away in the first half. The defense was killing Florida, absolutely bullying them into early submission. They could do nothing. Luckily for them, #11 was playing another one of his "deer in the headlights" games and keeping them alive. Three interceptions in the first half. All terrible throws, all markers of Murray choking to death in the spotlight once again. He was 0-6 against top ten teams going into Saturday and this day was looking no different. The pass to Jay Rome was into triple coverage. The pass to Wooten was thrown 100 mph behind him. The other pass to Brown was so far over his head that the Marines launched a Harrier Jet and flew over the Stadium to assess any threats to public safety. Thank God for Todd Gurley and the offensive line, who played amazingly all night. The fact this game was even close is ALL on Murray and some ill-timed drops by the receivers. I fully expected Shawn Williams to walk up to Aaron, bite his head off ala Ozzy Osbourne, and tell Hutson Mason to go in. 

Despite the colossal failures of Murray, we still led. Driskel was getting pounded. They fumbled time and time again. Their offensive line was mauled by our defense. Rambo and Swann had huge interceptions. We had some serious fire tonight. Devin Bowman got called for a stupid personal foul and was met on the sidelines by Todd Grantham. I have rarely seen an ass chewing more animated, more frightening and more motivational than that one. Although I have questioned Richt's fire, I have never questioned Grantham's. In fact, the pregame brouhaha that CBS reported before kickoff? Grantham was going after their strength coach. I love that man. The players love him too because they know he will back them up, regardless of anything. Every challenge issued by Florida was met with force. Guys were making plays all over the field. Branden Smith, Garrison Smith and Mike Gilliard all had great performances. Jenkins and Geathers swallowed the middle whole and their rinky dink Wildcat plays were useless. Herrera and Jones teed off on Gillislee. Jordan Reed was the only Gator who was hurting us. He just kept making big catches.

In the fourth quarter, leading 10-9, I assessed the possibility of victory. Neither offense could get out of their own way. Our defense was much better than theirs. Their kicker was better than ours though. I felt sick. 12-10 Gators would just suck beyond all belief. Marshall Morgan is about as dependable as a fence built out of pool noodles. He did make one, but missed an easy one late in the game. I fully expected Shawn Williams to bitehis head off, bury him in a swamp in Kingsland, Georgia after the game and tell Jamie Lindley to kick for the rest of the season. Fortunately for us, Murray stopped making mistakes. He did not take over the game but he stopped killing us. 150 yards passing is not blowing anybody's skirt up. With 8:30 to go, Murray starts finding open men. To his defense, King, Brown and Lynch had big drops earlier. King especially was bad, he was WIDE OPEN on a third down and just flat dropped it and forced a punt. Malcom Mitchell made a catch on Purifoy, Florida's best and most talkative cover man. It was Purifoy that conned Bowman into his stupid penalty. Once again, he gets one of our guys to get emotional and the flag comes out. Mitchell costs us 15 yards and negates his gain on the play. I thought Shawn Williams was going to bite his head off, quarter him and send him to the four corners of Georgia as a warning to others. (+1 for Braveheart reference)

With 7:11 to go, Murray takes the snap and drops back and finds Mitchell, fresh off his ass chewing from Richt and Williams, who catches the ball. He spins out of Purifoy's grasp and sprints down the sideline. The Florida secondary closes the angles but Malcolm cuts to the middle, breaks two tackles, and finds the end zone for the game's second touchdown. It was one of the best plays of the season. The game is not over, but we were feeling pretty good. By "we" I mean the wonderful people I watched the game with, my family and friends from Cartersville, Georgia. I made an improptu trip to Cassville and got to watch the game with them. These are the people with who I have enjoyed the good times and suffered through the bad in terms of Georgia football. It was a celebration on Burnt Hickory Road. There was talk of jumping in a nearby creek. I volunteered to lead the way...I miss creeks.

Anyhow, Florida gets the ball with us leading 17-9. They are just simply inept with the ball. Driskel is feeling the pounding he had taken all game. Jarvis Jones had been all over him. Cornelius Washington, Alec Ogletree, Christian Robinson and the linebacking corps really closed the middle of the field. On this drive, they are gaining yards and getting too close. Gillislee finally gets a decent run. Driskel picks up a first down on a run that was slower developing than Auburn's math department. They creep into our territory and my nerves are frayed. Please God, no overtime. They pan into the stands and show the Florida "faithful" chomping away. I use "faithful" in quotes because they absolutely disappear when things go wrong for the Gators. No fanbase has a more selective memory than Florida. No fanbase backs out quicker than Florida. (except for the alumni, the Florida alums I know are very respectable people and diehards) When Jordan Reed catches the pass on the twelve and breaks the tackle, I just cringe. He is on the three and inexplicably jumps toward the end zone, as he flies through the air, Jarvis Jones tomahawks the ball right out of his hands and he fumbles into the end zone. Sanders Commings falls on the ball. The deal is sealed. One more perfect season goes own the tubes and it's not us circling the drain for a change.Gurley fittingly closed Florida out with a 16 yard run, dragging three tacklers and setting our bench off into a frenzy. 

So, here we are. We won a big game. I'm ecstatic over this victory and I'm eating crow right now with a side of hot sauce, It does not change my feelings about Richt completely, but apparently we CAN come alive and we CAN beat somebody worth beating. Will this lead to anything? Who knows? We must handle business against Ole Miss and Auburn in order to get back to Atlanta. This will take sustained intensity, which we have not been able to muster in awhile. I fully expect us to be in Atlanta, however. As a diehard, I cannot be any other way. I also fully expect to see Alabama there, so we MUST be at our best or it will be ugly. If we somehow get to Atlanta and pull off the impossible, I fully expect Shawn Williams to get the game ball regardless of anything or anyone. Take solace, though, Mr. Williams, because no matter what happens, I'm naming my next tornado after you. Go Dawgs!

You can't run with the Big Dawg, he's under the porch with the fleas.

Normally, when the Dawgs are off for a weekend, I peruse the Dawgvent and discuss the upcoming games and what our chances are going forward. The Vent is usually rife with diehards like me, talking recruiting, injuries, who needs the week off to recover and where to tailgate at the next away game. Other SEC games are watched and picked apart: "We could run the ball on Florida," "LSU's offense is suspect," or "Auburn is downright terrible or Ole Miss will be harder to handle than we thought." Thread after thread, anticipating the next game....asking the "what ifs" and everybody going to Stubhub and Ticketmaster to preemptively check SEC Championship ticket prices.

That did not happen this weekend. In fact, I never logged on to the Dawgvent on Saturday, nor did I watch a second of the LSU/Carolina game. I watched a few plays of the Ole Miss/Auburn game to cheer on my brother's alma mater and luckily, they were able to pull it out. Oh great, I thought, another game where we will probably struggle. The Dawgs play Ole Miss this year at home. A game that was a clear victory two weeks ago is no more. They have a mobile quarterback and quick little running back that can take it to the house at any point. They "dink and dunk" you to death.....a concept that our defense cannot seem to grasp. I'm betting money that Ole Miss gives us pure hell in Athens and the game will be another in a long line of frustrating underperformances.

Think back to West Virginia in 2005. Total disaster. Remember Mississippi State in 2009? Tennessee and Carolina in 2007? Alabama in 2008. Vandy. Kentucky. Central Florida. The god-awful loss to Tech at home in 2008. Hell, I remember one year, we beat UAB 13-10 on a late field goal at home and Middle Tennessee State was in doubt until the fourth quarter. Troy stayed right with us at home in 2007. On several occasions, I have walked out of Sanford after a win and it felt LIKE WE LOST. We get people on the ropes, pull back and let them right back in the game. This has become one of our calling cards. Our other calling card is even worse....hit us in the mouth early and we fold up like a cheap tent. Since 2005, we truthfully have had ONE season worth talking about. Anyone who refutes this is living in a dream world, works for the University or recently received a lobotomy.

Being the diehard football junkie I am, I did some research though. I know we are all quick to blame the coaches. History and statistics show that we are not totally off base on that stance. Think about Alabama in 2003-2007, buried by probation and a severe lack of talent on the field and on the coaching staff. They were awful. We crushed them in Athens in 2003, they were painfully inept and Thomas Davis almost killed Spencer Pennington that day. Nobody in their right mind would predict they would have two more national titles in 2012. Mal Moore went out and got the right man for the job and everything changed. Urban Meyer at Florida, same story. Les Miles at LSU. Sleeping giants were awakened at those schools and our giant...well....he's hit the snooze button about 25 times in the last eight years.

I examined our recruiting numbers since 2004. While doing this, I uncovered some extremely disturbing trends, foolhardy decisions, and just downright negligence on the part of our coaching staff. However, I also figured out that many players washed out on their own and no amount of coaching could have saved them. The number of players who were non-contributors over the last seven years is astounding. You do not have to wonder when and where we have gone wrong....it's like Billy told me in Cassville once, "if you can't see that, you're blinder than a bat in a coal mine." Want glaring statistic?

From 2005-2008, we had 18 offensive linemen commit. Of those 18, four of them never played a snap. One of those four was our ONLY offensive line commitment of 2005. Of the remaining fourteen, Ben Harden and Kevin Perez never saw the field other than mop up duty against Western Oklahoma Tech. AJ Harmon and Tanner Strickland transferred and retired from football, respectively. Trinton Sturdivant tore his ACL twice. Scott Haverkamp transferred back to Kansas after one year. Kiante Tripp switched to defense. That leaves seven offensive lineman for four years of recruiting that actually stayed and finished their careers at UGA: Ben Jones (success), Chris Davis (serviceable), Josh Davis (project who only caught on in his senior year), Clint Boling (success), Cordy Glenn (success), Vince Vance (a JUCO transfer who only played two years) and Justin Anderson (started but never lived up to the hype out of HS). Ouch.

Want another one?

Since 2004, we have had FORTY-ONE players leave, transfer, head to JUCO and flunk out, get dismissed or get thrown completely out of school. Many of these guys never saw the field once. I am not counting the O-linemen above, nor am I counting the guys who quit due to injury. (i.e. Bryce Ros, Quintin Banks, Antavious Coates) That's more people than Tech has fans. That's higher than an Auburn fan can count. Forty-one people who smoked, drank, rear-ended & license-suspended, punched, kicked and clawed their way right out of school. Suddenly, the slide of our program is not so far-fetched, is it? We are recruiting morons with no discipline, fools who cannot spell "shotgun" and idiots who cannot get out of their own way. While our fanbase points fingers and laughs at other programs, maybe we should look in the damn mirror. Or maybe they hide it better? Who knows? The numbers do not lie.

"The SEC is a line of scrimmage league," says Will Muschamp, the head coach of the Florida Gators. While I hate to agree with a vile traitor like Muschamp, a UGA alumnus who disparaged his alma mater when he took the Florida job, I must acknowledge the accuracy of that statement. Looking at these numbers, we are coming to the line of scrimmage completely shorthanded. It's a wonder we have won half of the games we played. Where we are not shorthanded, we have underachievers with no coaching. Remember Brandon Miller? Reshad Jones? Probably not. They were five-star recruits who drastically underachieved in their UGA career. Miller, because he was out of position and Jones, because he was not coached and an undisciplined player who was good for 2-3 personal fouls a game. However, they were ALL we had. Their backups were packing their bags to move to Alabama State or suspended for a parking ticket on their moped.

Right now, we have a true freshman starting on the offensive line. He is doing well, but he could have used a year to grow up. Our center is playing his first meaningful snaps. Our left tackle has been moved at least twice in his career and he was abused by South Carolina. We couldn't sub anyone in for him because there was nobody to take his place. We already have one redshirt freshman offensive lineman that Coach Will Friend has basically cast aside as a bust. We started the year missing two All-Americans on defense who simply cannot behave themselves, their draft stock be damned. I guess smoking grass and partying is better than $2,000,000 a year in the NFL. Where we were supposed to be strong, we are not. When we were supposed to grow up, we regressed. When we had the spotlight, we caved and the men who recruited these players stand idly by, hoping for someone else to lose so we can climb back into the race. That is no way to run a winning program in this conference, where you cannot win on talent alone.

Face it Dawg fans, we have hit the wall of complacency like a runaway Mack truck. If you are happy with 9-3 and the Capital One Bowl, then more power to you. Our rivals will raid our state, take every good player we have and bomb us back to the 90's. I wrote a pointed, yet respectful letter to our Athletic Director last season regarding these feelings. His response was essentially "get behind Richt or jump off the ship." Newsflash: I am behind my school, not a person. If they cannot understand that and we remain on this path, it's going to be a long decade, y'all. We have already lost six players from the 2010 class and five from the 2011 class. I hope and pray we turn this around soon and we go back to our winning ways. Until then I say good luck to the Dawgs....

All 37 of them.

Recap of the Weekend: The loss of hope and generic tequila makes Bradley a dull boy

Nothing hurts worse than the loss of hope. Hope is the driving force that keeps us alive. Well, that and Nutella, but I digress. Hope carries us to new heights, hope restores us on bad days and hope makes life worth living, even when it may not be. Rarely have I experienced the complete loss of hope in my life, I am one of those that hangs on forever, til the bitter end....I'd be that last guy at Pickett's Charge saying "we got this!"

**Side note: I went to Gettysburg two years ago and walked the exact path of Pickett's Charge. 600 yards of open ground with no cover, outnumbered and outgunned. It's like driving a car made of balsa wood in the wrong direction down I-75 at rush hour. Robert E. Lee had an "Auburn" moment that day, I've surmised. Just an inordinate, inexplicable amount of stupidity.

I lost hope Saturday, completely and utterly. I have been disappointed before watching UGA losses. 2002 Florida. 2004 Tennessee. 2007 Tennessee. 2008 Bama. All of those games were heartbreaking, games you look back on and want to punch random inanimate objects. This Saturday's loss however, tops them all. My hope for UGA football climbed to the top of the Empire State Building and took a header into a garbage truck owned by some morally casual Italians named Sal and Tony. Then it was compacted in said garbage truck, shipped off to the landfill in New Jersey, where two homeless guys use it for a toilet. "Wow, that's a little extreme," you might think. Well, when you see an entire team quit on national television, I don't think there is any room for anything other than extreme.

I listened to all the talk. I believed we were ready.

"Win it for Bennett!"

"Statement game."

"Coming out party."

"Gurshall for Heisman."

"Spurrier has gout, he's out for the season."

The Pourhouse was excited. People were buzzing beforehand, excited that Florida won so our big showdown with them in three weeks would be epic. One for the ages. "I can't wait to see Muschamp's face when we whup their asses!" one guy remarked. "I'm glad we got Murray and not Mettenberger!" another replied. A confidence brimming over with the $1.00 Bud Light special and a week's worth of fluff from all the sportscasters predicting that UGA's offense would win the day. I could hear Longstreet telling the doomed soldiers of Pickett's Brigade:

"Gentlemen, tomorrow is our day. Disregard their superior numbers. Disregard your lack of footwear. Disregard the lack of cover. Disregard the grapeshot coming from their cannons. Just believe."

We kickoff and you can tell Williams-Brice is absolutely erupting. They get the ball and march it right down our throats. Five plays and two and a half minutes. Our All-American brownie eater, Bacarri Rambo, had an interception stolen right out of his hands on the second play. Our line provided zero push. Their quarterback, a Georgian named Connor Shaw, had a field day against our pathetic secondary. His pass to Bruce Ellington for the first score was so wide open that Shawn Williams might has well have been standing in Athens on that play. I say to myself, "Harumph. Inauspicious beginning. We will bounce back." A sneaking suspicion told me that we would not, though.

The only bouncing I saw was the ball off Kelcy Quarles's hand on Murray's second pass, right into the waiting hands of their linebacker. Murray had an awful night, one of the worst performances I have ever seen by a three year starter. He had that look from his freshman year again. When I saw that look, I knew we were done. It's the look I mentioned last week. It's the look I have seen at least 2-3 times a season since he took over as quarterback. It's the "holy $#@# we are losing" mouth opened stare that spells disaster. He didn't get much help from his supporting cast either. Wooten dropped the 75th pass of his career. Kenarious Gates got flat out abused by Jadeveon Clowney. This guy ran his mouth all week and backed it up. Kudos to him.....the chocolate chip Kudos that tasted so good. (c'mon 90's kids, you had a box of Kudos a week. I know I did) If we are giving Kudos to Clowney, then our O-line gets Kashi. A bowl of Kashi with no milk. Kashi is a disgusting, organic concoction  that has an aftertaste like potting soil. (Believe me I know, I accidentally ate plenty of it at Cass Grocery hauling it around) Our line was physically manhandled all night. Carolina brought the heat and we wilted like a plastic bag in a campfire at Rock Creek in Blue Ridge.

Carolina scored again, quickly. Shaw found his tight end, once again, so open that he could have tweeted "I Luv My Momma #soufcrackalacky" and Moonwalked into the corner. He was also from the state of Georgia. It was 14-0 in about five minutes. Some angst reared its head in the Pourhouse. They showed the replay. Amarlo Herrera must have forgotten where he was or was worried about his Physics test on Monday, because he was about twelve steps slow on the play. Speaking of twelve steps, I think some people at the Pourhouse took their first of twelve on this night. One kid was drinking straight from the pitcher, talking about how much he was sick of Bobo, Richt, Obama, the elevator in his building, global warming, Al Gore and the price of cigarettes. I saw one group do three tequila shots a piece and then stare angrily at the bar. Usually, when Jose Cuervo introduces himself at a party, good things happen and the chances of dark secrets being made increases. Not tonight. It was angry drinking, with generic tequila and the only dark secret lingering this night was "just where on I-85 did our football get off the bus?"

We get the ball back and punt almost immediately. Bobo ran his patented "let's give us no chance to gain a first down" offense and Collin Barber came in to kick it away after about 17 seconds of offensive futility. The ball careened through the night sky into the arms of Ace Sanders. He drops it and picks it up and runs straight up the middle. A couple of walk-ons almost made the tackle and they would have, if they had been in the same zip code as Sanders. He dashed untouched for another score. Our horrendous special teams play continues and it is 21-0. The Carolina fanbase is beside themselves. ESPN is kicking themselves for picking up this debacle. UGA players are playing with themselves on the sideline and the coaching staff is standing by themselves, exposed in a garnet spotlight of unprepared, uninspired football that officially derailed our season. The rest of the game is of no consequence. They scored fourteen more. We scored a meaningless touchdown with two minutes to go. Murray overthrew everything and everyone. Our receivers could not catch a bullet in the ass during a Mexican gang fight over a brick of meth. Gurley and Marshall ran hard, but with very few holes, it was all for naught. Their offensive line "bullied" our defensive line. They held us against our locker and gave us an "Indian Rug Burn" and called us fat nerds. As far as our secondary goes, the only words that come to mind are "porous," "Swiss cheese," "cardboard cutout" and "sticky icky." All the while, Spurrier just smirked. He knew.

Why was this loss different? Why do I feel different than when Tennessee stole our national championship hopes in 2004? Or when DJ Shockley's only pass against Florida in 2002 cost us that game and another national championship shot? Because my hope is gone, it's officially broken. Back then, I would chalk it up to one thing or another and move on. Back then, I felt like we were on the brink of a great run. Flash forward to last Saturday, I realized that I can no longer, in my heart of hearts, invest any more emotion or belief that we will ever be successful under Mark Richt. We have the most favorable schedule that we've had in YEARS. We have upperclassmen everywhere. Our coaches are all seasoned veterans. All-Americans, Heisman hopefuls, freshman phenoms....and yet, we are reduced to a footnote once again by virtue of a 35-7 shellacking by a school that we used to count as a victory every season. Out-everythinged by a much tougher, better coached group of players, most of which I have never even heard of. Who the hell is DJ Swearinger? Akeem Auguste? Courtney Taylor?  6-0 is what they are. I don't know what we are.

So, we continue on to Kentucky. I've never been happier for an off week and less captivated by the remainder of a season since Ray Goff. Who cares now? We had the biggest stage in college football and the only performances I can remember that have been worse than ours are:

1) Roseanne Barr's rendition of the Star Spangled Banner
2) Keanu Reeves in "Feeling Minnesota"
3) Bill Clinton's "definition of is" rambling that reduced my brain to ashes
4) Adam Sandler movies post-2004
5) The dinner scene in Twister when everyone drops their forks when Jamie Gertz says "F5"

To quote Remember the Titans: "Attitude reflect(s) leadership, Captain." We have no leader, plain and simple. That ship has sailed. It sailed into the Bermuda Triangle and is in the Twilight Zone with Jimmy Hoffa, Ted Williams's frozen head and Christian Slater's acting career. I will never hate Coach Richt and I am thankful for what he has done. He brought us back from the worst decade in the history of our school. However, if we continue on this path, I'll be thanking the next coach for the very same thing.

Recap of the Weekend: Dawgs win by the skin of our whatchamcallit

First of all, let me apologize to my loyal readers about the lack of UGA football posts. Frankly, the games have been rather inconsequential to this point. The closest game we have had since the season started was the 41-20 beating we gave Missouri. We clobbered FAU and Vandy like they stole something, most people at the Pourhouse stopped watching those games and started talking about more important things, like the best sushi on the Lower East Side or how slow the "R" train has been during the latest construction. The FAU game was the biggest snoozer of all, in fact, I think the Pourhouse had to buy ESPN Gameplan to get it on the television. Have you ever watched a regional ESPN Gameplan broadcast? It looks like one of those old home videos my brother and I used to make in the early 90's. You get motion sickness from the awesome camera work and the announcers sound like the guys who also commentate for Smoky Mountain Wrestling.

This weekend was slightly different, however. We finally got a primetime TV slot on a big network, playing a heated rival at home. Recipe for success, right? As I walked to the Pourhouse, I walked through a "Free Palestine" protest in Union Square. One guy had a sign that said, "Take Palestine back from the baby-killing spawn of Satan" or something to that effect. It's always nice to see New Yorkers enjoying their weekends. I can think of nothing better than to get off work on Friday and tell my family, "Kids, instead of going to Central Park and playing baseball tomorrow, let's say we go down to Union Square and blatantly offend people we don't like? Yay!!!!" I swear, get over yourselves, you live in the greatest city in the world. If you want to be pissed off about something that is thousands of miles away, be mad that the moon is not made of spare ribs. (+1 for SNL reference)

We piled into the Pourhouse and realized that the bar was split in half, as Virginia Tech also calls the bar "home" for their alumni. They had a riveting matchup against Cincinnati and a capacity crowd of 22 people filled the other half of the bar. I swear I heard a mouse sneeze over there during the third quarter. Anyhow, we affixed our posteriors in our usual spot and awaited kickoff. Quentin (aka Qdoba to me) and I were discussing that if we did not turn the ball over, we would massacre the Cheeto-colored heathens from the Smoky Mountains without much trouble. For some reason, I just did not feel great about the game from the get-go. Something was amiss. Can these people, who have to go to Dollywood for fun, beat us at home? Can these people, who apparently do not get drunk enough orally, upset this whole thing for us?

Our freshman running backs decided to make this game their personal track meet. "Gurshall," to which they are affectionately being referred, made a mockery of the UT defense all day. Gurley dragged guys all over the field and Keith Marshall broke two runs that made UT's secondary look like the Falcons on Tecmo Bowl. The Falcons were always terrible on Tecmo Bowl. I always played as the Raiders and would handoff to Bo Jackson. Just run Bo to the right and hold down "A." I would win 76-0 every time. Keith did his best Bo Jackson-Tecmo Bowl impersonation on his first touchdown. He just decided he was going to score, and it was so. The safety came near him and it was like Keanu Reeves in the Matrix stopping bullets.....he held out his hand and calmly said "No." We were up big in the blink of an eye, the only glaring mistake was Murray's interception. I felt my body relax and we all toasted to the Dawgs and our apparent victory that was going to be easier than finding a funnel cake in Pigeon Forge.

Wrong. In 4:30, Tennessee scored 20 points. Four-%^$**((&*((&UJH&& minutes and thirty ^&%**&& seconds. I asked Qdoba, "did we have a stroke after that last touchdown?" First, Malcolm Mitchell misplays a punt and puts us in a hole. This is getting to be a common occurence with him. Bobo does his patented "let's telegraph what we are going to do" offensive scheme and Tennessee gets great field position. They score with relative ease. Then Murray fumbles on a sack and AJ Johnson recovers for Tennessee. Easy score. Then Marshall fumbles and they recover. Another easy score. Gurley mishandles a kickoff. Marshall Morgan proved that the crossbar in Athens does indeed have a bullseye on it. The defensive backs are getting beat repeatedly. Murray gets that freshman "what the hell is happening" face and Richt's facial expression says, "Ya know, maybe I should cut the grass tomorrow. No, I'll let Kathryn do it. Then maybe we will get ice cream. Yeah, ice cream." I was beside myself and Qdoba was worried that I was going to headbutt our table in half. In 4:30, I can do the following activities:

1) Run 4/5 of a mile.
2) Eat seven hot dogs and a whole plate of fusilli from Angelo's in Little Italy
3) Ride the subway for forty blocks
4) Try to watch the news without vomiting
5) Learn and master the "stanky leg" dance

Tennessee can apparently score three touchdowns. Chagrin and shenanigans. Luckily, Artie Lynch came up big with a huge catch and somehow, by the grace of God, Zeus, Poseidon, the Wizard of Oz and C-3PO, Marshall Morgan made a 50 yard field goal. (C3PO was a god to the Ewoks, don't act like you forgot) Halftime was 30-30 and it should have been 42-10. I grumbled and went to the restroom. I checked in on the Virginia Tech game as I went back. They were playing Monopoly and Yahtzee with mimosas in hand, so I left them alone. Seriously, I did not want my eyes scratched out by interrupting a chick who is about to buy Marvin Gardens with two hotels. You just don't want that kind of trouble. However, I cannot help but point out a great ACC moment from the day: The bar let out a roar when the score from the Georgia Tech game appeared on the screen. Beaten at home by three touchdowns by the University of Murfreesboro-West Nashville. Congratulations Middle Tennessee State, you gained about 94,000 new fans on Saturday. Tech, please keep Paul Johnson forever. Purty, please? It's like having Reggie Ball back on the Flats and he's giving us free pizza to boot.

As I devoured the calamari ordered by Qdoba, I contemplated the second half. I thought about the fight between Cole Trickle and Harry Hogge on Days of Thunder. Randy Quaid said one of the best lines ever, which cannot be repeated here, but it sums up my feelings about the second quarter. The defense needed to step up and special teams had to wake up. As we trotted back out, I felt a little better. Murray had a determined look and Grantham appeared as if he had just eaten a truck tire with chains on it, so I knew we would be fired up. The offense was superb and Murray was finding guys everywhere. Bennett. Brown. Rome. King. Catch after catch they made in traffic, wide open, slanting, posting, hooking, flagging, Riverdancing......you name it. I have to point out King's effort in the first quarter when he dragged AJ Johnson four yards and almost scored. That was an NFL play right there. In the second half, we looked so crisp. Marshall and Gurley ripped UT's heart out with run after run, just abusing their linebackers and secondary. Michael Bennett caught two awesome passes for touchdowns. Our defensive line was the weak point on this day. John Jenkins, Abry Jones, Kwame Geathers and Cornelius Washington were no-shows. UT's linemen blew them up all game, we got no push and Bray can throw the damn football. That guy is scary and I'm glad he's gone after this year. Neal, their subpar running back, did his best Reggie Cobb impression. (90's Dawg fans will remember this guy. He KILLED us every time we played.) Our linebackers played fair but it seemed as if they were a step slow. Luckily for us, Sanders Commings and Damian Swann came to play. Three turnovers by Tennessee doomed them, just as three turnovers by us let their sorry butts back in the game. It does not matter how fast and talented you are, if you put the ball on the ground and you cannot kick, you can lose to anyone. Just ask Tech. (except Tech is not talented, fast, good, smart, athletic, worthwhile or relevant.)

Now we draw Carolina, an away game against a 6-0 opponent who had to come back to beat Kentucky and almost lost to Vandy. See? Anybody can have an off day. We had ours and we survived. Let's leave it at that and prepare for a bloodbath against the impostor, SEC coattail-riding Lamecocks. A team that has accomplished next to nothing in their history. A school that has one conference championship in their ENTIRE history: the 1969 ACC Championship. A school that is most famous for hosting a fake football team, the ESU Wolves, in their stadium. (+1 for The Program reference) I can see Jarvis Jones in the film room now:

Coach: "Jarvis, what do you do on this play?"

Jarvis: "Hit the tight end so hard his girlfriend dies."

Go Dawgs.