Staring into the Eyes of Giants: Georgia vs. Auburn

Goliath, being a giant and all, casts a shadow that goes well beyond the walls of a Sunday School room or even the farthest church pew from the pulpit, and like any figure from ancient times, he goes by many names and comes in many forms. The first Goliath I ever met was William Lattimore: he was the fastest kid in the third grade, and despite shooting a basketball like a Mujahideen with a rocket launcher, he never missed. Then there was Quentin Moses who in middle school stood like a Philistine above a bunch of musty-smelling adolescent Hebrews, and the list could go on to include Michael Hudson of Battlefield Middle or Reed Fairchild of Spotsylvania Middle. Different names. Same effect. When coach asked you to guard one of them one on one or you found yourself eye to eye with them across an imaginary yard marker, you knew they were better, that your legs weren't fast enough, that your arms weren't long enough--that you needed the miracle of a slingshot to slay the giant standing before you.


But slingshots are not allowed on basketball courts or football fields, so your own nose winds up a bloody mess on your jersey, or you sit quietly on the bench with four fouls, or Cam Newton, a quarterback, runs for 151 yards--more than the top two Bulldawg rushers combined--against the Georgia defense as Nick Fairley illegally punishes the quarterback, and a fourteen point first quarter lead disappears into the branches of Toomer's Trees just as quickly as tailgate smoke. 

Georgia's season started off full of doubt and with talk of hot seats, but a seven-game win streak, with wins against Tennessee and Florida, has drained a sea of apprehension just as quickly as pulling the stopper out of the kitchen sink (and some South Carolina injuries and the dismissal of a quarterback helped a bit too), so going into this year's Auburn game, Georgia fans are feeling more optimistic than they have in years. The team is playing for its first berth in the SEC title game since 2005, and across the field of battle, the opposing players are human-sized in both physical stature and ability; and that, in and of itself, is empowering.

Growth spurts often happen in this manner. An individual goes to sleep one night as a pining runt and wakes up the next morning inches taller on the doorframe measuring stick. At first, the added height is awkward: sleeves that don't make it all the way to the wrist, pants that hang above the ankle, clumsy scrambling, stupid decisions, and a voice that cracks under pressure. Then, one day, even the awkwardness is outgrown, and you find yourself both humbled and inspired by the fact that you are eye to eye with giants and the question becomes not how badly will they beat you up but whether or not you will blink. And that is where redshirt sophomore, Aaron Murray, and freshman running back, Isaiah Crowell, now find themselves, for the first time in their brief careers, having as much to gain as there is to lose, and hopefully, that's all they need for a slingshot--a bit of confidence and a whole lot of motivation.