Georgia, Florida, and Cigars: Cliffnotes for My OKTC Piece

My thoughts going into today's Georgia-Florida game are up at Clay Travis' site Outkick the Coverage.
The above picture is a view my dad and I used to share every fall Saturday, only it was obscured by cigar smoke back in the day.

Georgia Defeats #7 Georgia Tech: 'No Smiles Until There's Two Zeroes'

The cold Gatorade and ice of victory splashed onto Mark Richt's Carthaginian neck with little over a minute to play, but the celebration was met with a harsh glare and the words: "No smiles until there's two zeroes on the clock." The scoreboard read Georgia 30 Georgia Tech 24, but Georgia's coach was not happy before or after time ran out on the game of old fashioned hate; and why would he be? This battle was merely a step along a path; a pass between mountains; a test showing how many travails still lie before this coach and his program.

Even in this victory, the Bulldawgs continued to commit stupid penalties that kept their opponent's drives alive, showed an inability to make key tackles, and an overall inability to stop Georgia Tech's unique rushing offense, and as a result, Mark Richt sounded like a man at his wit's end after the game. Despite being the victor on this lone Saturday, this red and black general recognized that Rome was still not conquered.

This competitive fire and lack of satisfaction with his eighth win over the Yellow Jackets in nine years is exactly why most Georgia fans will continue to support Richt despite a somewhat disappointing season. In his interview directly after the final whistle, one could tell that despite his two underclassmen running backs, Washaun Ealey and Caleb King, rushing for 183 and 166 yards he was not resting on his laurels. Richt did not praise his team's success on the ground Saturday; instead, he sounded like a man who realizes that this team did not play up to his expectations in this game or this season. He sounded like a man with work to do; his mind on the grand timeline of history, while lesser men focus only on the moment. Mark Richt recognizes that last night's victory against his state rival means little if it does not mold these young men into a team capable of winning much more.

Georgia spent the last two seasons as a factor in the BCS race, but this year the team faltered out of the gate, losing to then #9 Oklahoma St., cooling fans' expectations for the season. At the time, the Dawgs' preseason #12 ranking seemed way too high, but then the team rattled off three straight wins against South Carolina, Arkansas, and Arizona St., with Joe Cox looking more than capable of replacing last year's number one pick in the draft Matthew Stafford. Then an unsportsmanlike penalty against AJ Green, in the game against LSU, crushed all that optimism like an aluminum can at a tailgate, and the Tigers beat the Dawgs by a touchdown; and the following week Georgia's defense made Jonathan Crompton of Tennessee look like a first round draft pick, as the Volunteers stormed the Dawgs 45-19. The rest of this season was a story in how inconsistency can derail a season, as the penalties and turnovers in big games continued to mount, costing series, yielding games, losing seasons.

Mark Richt and his staff attempted to curb these problems, devoting extra sessions in practice to fumbling drills and adopting a zero tolerance policy on penalties, but none of that changed the results on the field, and Georgia finished the 2009 regular season 7-5, the most losses in one season since Richt became head coach.

Usually, in college football, a win against a top ten team feels like a huge triumph that keeps a team and its fanbase satisfied until at least the next kickoff, but last night's game appeared to leave Richt anything but satisfied; and that sentiment is contagious. After seeing his response, one could not help but reflect on the intricate details of Georgia's victory: the lead was built while Tech quarterback Josh Nesbitt was out of the game with an injury, the rushing numbers were probably inflated by an injury to Tech's starting defensive tackle, and UGA corner Brandon Boykin committed a pass interference penalty, in the end zone, on third down, setting up Tech's last score, cutting Georgia's lead to six. This victory happened in spite of the same mistakes that plagued Georgia's season all year.

One could dwell on all the previous mentioned circumstances, growing frustrated and depressed in the process, or one could acknowledge that Mark Richt took a team with 77 freshmen and sophomores and won seven games with them, defeating three of the team's major rivals, going 4-4 in America's toughest conference, to finish number three in the SEC East. These tasks were accomplished the year after Georgia's program lost its starting quarterback, starting running back, and most consistent wide receiver to the NFL draft, in a season where the team's best player, AJ Green, did not play in three of the team's final four games. While this team has its flaws and may need to replace its defensive coordinator, Mark Richt kept the team together and weathered the storm.

Now, with an extra month of practice thanks to another Bowl bid, this team is ready to march out of the Gatorade-flavored snow and ice of the Alps and lay siege to the kingdoms and empires of Saban and Meyer. After all, Mark Richt and his armies seek more than a win against the Yellow Jackets--the dream of a championship still alludes these riders of elephants, and these setbacks grow more and more frustrating, causing one to wonder how long the tides of history will allow a team to sit outside the gates of Rome before either the city or the army are razed from the field for good, and, judging from his mood last night, Richt recognizes his difficult position within the crux of college football, the SEC, as a teetering between being the dominant power in the Mediterranean or a scorched field of salt. These next few years will seal the fate on how people remember Mark Richt's tenure.

The Unfamiliar: #13 Georgia Loses to #9 Oklahoma St. 24 to 10

When students come out of the lunch line with their trays in hand, they seek a table with familiar faces. If one can not find those familiar faces, then one must look inward and do one of two things: either cross into bold frontiers and make new friends or become comfortable with one's self, isolation, and eating alone. The familiar faces in life come and go, like landmarks on the Oregon Trail, and the spaces in between can appear as daunting as a vast wilderness. Last year's Georgia team was defined by the familiar landmarks of Matthew Stafford, Knowshon Moreno, and Mohammed Massaquoi, but this year's team lies somewhere beyond Chimney Rock, out there in the unknown, beyond the point on a west-going route that an elementary school student, with a green-screened Apple computer, has ever seen or experienced.

This Georgia season may not follow neatly in the wagon wheel ruts carved out by Mark Richt's eight-year tenure as the top dawg. This team may not finish with ten or more wins like six of his eight teams have done. This team may not win the SEC East like three of his teams have done, and it may not win the SEC like two of his teams have done; but none of that means that this season's venturing westward is a voyage made in vain. Mark Richt's success has made Georgia fans familiar with being one of the top programs in the SEC, but familiar territory can grow stagnant and unchanging. Familiar territory can become a place of habit, with one wagon following the paths of all that came before it, never branching out into the unknown, and the unknown is where discovery takes place, not just of landmarks, geography, and Bowl games, but of one's self. The 2009 football season will offer every fan clad in black and red a chance to look inward and discover their true nature as a football fan.

Venturing off the worn path is never easy. The legs of the oxen tangle with briars and thorns, and the mosquitoes and gnats swarm to human flesh as if it consisted solely of honeyed sugar. Wagon axles will surely break, as was the case yesterday when the Georgia offense scored only a field goal after taking a touchdown lead out of the first quarter, but this rough journey into the wild should offer Georgia fans an appreciation for how well Mark Richt has guided the program in his first eight seasons.

Mark Richt's leadership has been as steadfast as the Duke's presence on a movie set. Yesterday's loss was only the fifth time Georgia has dropped a road game under his guidance. He's led the Bulldogs through hostile Comanche territory with the loss of very few scalps and come out of shoot outs with highwaymen as if he were a war wagon. While yesterday's defeat may have caused many Georgia fans to realize how hard this season may be, Richt's track record and a look at the remaining road games gives one the belief John Wayne will find Debbie, uttering the words, "let's go home," as she cowers in the darkness of the cave.

Georgia will come out of this season changed for the better. The current roster features only twenty seniors, thirty juniors, and seventy-seven freshmen and sophomores. They will go into the woods hungry and dragging muskets as tall as they are, but they will come back with coon-skinned hats, dragging the hides of buffalo behind them and a message from the Apple God of hunting: "You killed too much meat. You can only carry back 100 pounds back to the wagon." Looking at their schedule, this team should still find itself with seven to nine wins and headed for a Bowl game, just don't expect this team to reach the Pacific without a few bouts of dysentery, some broken bones, and a loss to Florida.

Those who have the patience to enjoy watching a team grow and develop a personality should find this Georgia season to be a thing of beauty, like watching a carpenter who discovers rocking chairs inside of tree stumps, or a stone mason who searches the edges of boulders to find stone steps hidden underneath--Mark Richt is building something in Athens that can not be judged by stats and numbers alone, but requires the sentimentality one uses to remember an archaic computer game and a frontier that disappeared long ago.

How we as fans react to this season will say much more about us than it will about our John Wayne.

Moreno and Stafford declare for the draft

Today the tandem that was expected to bring UGA back to the top announced they will go pro, declaring for the draft from Athens with the support of the coaches and family behind them. They leave the SEC on their way to make millions, with UGA fans still clamoring for one more year and the rest of the fans of the SEC asking if they need a ride to the airport. I may not have been a UGA fan, but I am fan of these two student-athletes. I became a fan of Knowshon and Stafford, due to one of the worst seasons in UT history. As the scoreboard for my beloved Vols routinely reflected a team that was over matched and lacked desire, I changed my perspective. For most sports I can watch my team lose and there is no feeling of acrimony or antipathy. However when I watch the Vols go through defeat, I get physically ill. I don't know why this happens, but it is a family trait passed down from my father. During this past fall, when the wins were surpassed by losses, I had to change my perspective for the betterment of my physical state.

I changed my attitude by watching the games not as a Vol fan but as a fan of the SEC. This helped me stay in my usual balanced and relaxed state of mind, well that and staying away from Jack on game days. Watching these future all-pros face off on a weekly basis in the biggest games is a joy and it honestly helped me ignore the problems in Knoxville. Throughout the season there were two players that stood out the most. Moreno and Stafford. Watching Moreno run over/ juke tacklers into submission and Stafford lead the offense with a rare air of confidence helped me come to the realization that no matter who wins or loses I will enjoy my Saturdays in the fall. I will do this by reminding myself that even if my beloved team doesn't win at least I'm not a buckeye fan. So thank you Knowshon and Matthew, for helping me to enjoy my Saturdays this past fall. Good luck with your future endeavors.

Long Distance Waiting: Georgia, Green Bay, and the Election

In fourth grade, Ms. Mihms, my P.E. teacher, pulled my best friend Matt and I out of the line and told the rest of the class, "we're not going anywhere until these two learn to be quiet." I then asked her, "does the time we were quiet to walk over here count?" Matt then giggled like the Great Bungholio, "yeah, did that count?" We were never quiet. My friends and I have always had an unrelenting and loud relationship, and the ease with which words flow from my mouth can at times wear on the listening prowess and patience of others. I am aware of this, and that's one reason I need the Matt Rauschenberg's in my life. He always gave me as many words as I gave him. Every Beavis deserves a Butthead.

When my family moved from Georgia to Virginia, Matt became James, Andrew, Dan, and then Aisander when I got to college. They are all obnoxiously my friends. This past weekend Dan and I were at a wedding between our friends Drew and Megan (congratulations), and we began freestyling on the dance floor. Later, we freestyled on the bus back to the hotel. None of it was any good, but it was obnoxious: "We get abstract as Coltrane/ get brain like Lil' Wayne/ We're so outside of sane/ they call us insane/ walk like we was maimed/ yeah, laugh at our pimp walk/ yeah, it's all talk/ like rawk chalk jayhawk/ it don't make any sense/ we used to Sprint for ten cents/ now we got a circle of friends/ and they all long distance." Yeah, Ms. Mihms would have kept us on the bus until we got quiet.

I'm going on about how easy words tend to come for me because, at this present time, I have nothing to say on this blog. My two football teams' seasons stand on a precipice. If Georgia and Green Bay were rivers, then the bed they sleep in has led dreams to collect behind the Hoover Dam. The flow of the river stalls, enthusiasm wanes, and I'm waiting for something to blow the dam into pieces. When waiting, words tend to be awkward. Think of the conversations people have between stops on the Metro or between floors on an elevator. These conversations are meaningless, except they spend the time when our friends are long distance and we don't have ten cents worth of time to call them.

Right now, Georgia and Green Bay are between floors and between stops.

Georgia's season seemed somewhat derailed after the Alabama game. The chance to take back the number one ranking was there after USC lost to Oregon St., but the score at halftime read 31-0. Then there was a bye week. Bye weeks offer a lot of time to wait, but I didn't have anything to say. I just listened to the elevator music, read the Metro ads, and stared straight ahead. This past Saturday they defeated Tennessee, but Tennessee just doesn't seem like Tennessee at the moment; so when everyone around Georgia jumped in the polls this week, Georgia held steady at number ten. A long distance call used to be ten cents, and if this week is an indication of anything, then Georgia has some time on its hands to call next season.

Green Bay started the season off 2-0. I was hyped. I would call my Dad, down in Fredericksburg, to talk about how Aaron Rodgers might be the real deal and that he seems ready. Then Dallas showed us that we have no running game and our secondary has too many injuries. We were 2-1, soon to be 2-3, but we did defeat Seattle yesterday. Of course, Seattle isn't Seattle anymore; they're Tennessee, and we're waiting on Aaron Rodgers' shoulder to heal. We don't know where our season is heading. We're just staring ahead of us. We have no small talk to make. We're just hungry; our faces worn like busted up shoes, smelling like tobacco, sweat, and the midnight shift. Our eyes are full of glass, knowing something didn't go as planned at some point, but that points on a map are always relative. Directions always are. #4 is behind us, and the unknown is up ahead; and we all have a different opinion about which is better, the past or the future.

These seasons are at a crossroads. Most people talk when they reach a crossroads. They lay in bed, praying out loud to their God. They meet to have lunch with a friend and bring up their travels casually, asking the friend first, "how are you?" They call up a list of confidants long distance and talk more than ten cents worth because it seems our troubles are getting bigger with time, so we need more time to hash them out on the phone; or we blog, journal, and write.

I just don't feel like I have much to say right now. Green Bay plays Indianapolis next week, and Georgia plays Vanderbilt; but I don't really have much to say about either.

The river's water collects at the dam, and the dam needs to be blown a part. Football games seem more and more like small, insignificant cracks when one watches the stock market and realizes the economy right now is as unstable as nitroglycerin, and that while it is unnatural for a river to wait, it's also extremely dangerous to rush into anything that involves explosions, concrete shattering, and the unleashed power of a river. These kinds of choices require patience, a patience only the homeless and night riders of the Metro possess. The kind of patience that, unfortunately, can lead to indifference, an aimless riding from stop to stop, on a train, thinking one destination is no different than another.

My point is, when you vote this November, vote with a destination in mind, no matter who you happen to be voting for. We need vision, and we need guidance. In the meantime, we have football games, that like long distance communication only requires us to talk and listen.

Go Dawgs! Go Pack!
God bless and thanks for all the obnoxious people in my life; they're cocky enough to know who they are.

Georgia's Blackout Massacre

The score at halftime was 31-0 Alabama. I think that tells the story; there was was a body and there were people to mourn its passing.

We dressed in black, thinking it would intimidate. Instead, we wound up wearing black at a funeral, and the body in the casket was our national championship hopes. It doesn't matter that we outscored 'Bama 30-10 in the second half, that was just the doctor yelling "clear" before attempting to shock the heart of our season back to life. The heart flinched once or twice and then quit responding.



On the flipside, USC lost, Florida lost, LSU and 'Bama have to play one another, and Georgia still has games against Tennessee, #21 Vandy, #5 LSU, #4 Florida, and #15 Auburn. Georgia, despite dressing up to die last night, will still get a shot at singing its rendition of "Folsom Prison Blues."

The strength of the SEC is that it offers a chance at redemption and resurrection.

Georgia vs. Alabama, JMU football and IHOP, who shouldn't vote on election day, and Paul Newman

This post will either be brief or turn into a rambling tirade that goes on forever.... 

First, I am extremely excited about tonight's game between Georgia and Alabama.  Coach Richt has given permission for the blackout, and the game is at night.  Imagine the visual, not only will Saban's boys look like they're playing against the eleven UGA players on the field, the players on the sideline, and all the people in Sanford Stadium, but they will appear to be up against the night itself.  "Two ships passed in the night," and one got rocked.  Georgia wins.  

Of course, I am a bit worried that all the experts seem to be picking Georgia. Can a game of this magnitude be that easy of a pick?

__________________


Last weekend, I refereed a flip cup tournament in DC. I got paid fifty bucks to do so, and all my drinks during my time as ref were free; but I did fail to become the Ed Hochuli of flip cup refs. Anyway, after the tournament, I headed to Ballston, in Arlington, where I was meeting other JMU alumnae for their top five showdown with #1 Appalachian St.

Bailey's was full of purple and gold fans. The atmosphere was incredible, like being at Bridgeforth Stadium. The Dukes came back from 21 down to knock off the top team in college football's cul de sac division, a fitting title for this division because the only people who care about it are those who live on it--it leads no where, except to this 25 year old stealing syrup from IHOP.

After a night of football and debauchery, some friends and I wound up at the Ballston IHOP. The time is not important here. I ordered the Country Omelet, stating to the waitress, "since I'm from the country and not the city." I then came up with the genius idea to save my pancakes that came with the omelet for breakfast the next day, but Stan Yuengling doesn't have syrup at his apartment; so I put a whole plastic IHOP bottle of syrup in a styrofoam box of pancakes. I also took the precaution of texting myself the word "pancakes," so I wouldn't forget to eat them the next day. The problem here is I opened this text, thinking someone else had texted me. The next morning I had no reminder or memory of this fantastic treasure I had buried in Stan's fridge because I erased the "X" on my treasure map.

Last night, Stan's over at my place and asks when I'm coming to get my pancakes, which brings up a serious dilemma.

JMU plays Maine tonight around 6. Georgia plays Alabama around 8 or so, but Obama and Biden are speaking in Fredericksburg around 6 I believe; so do I follow my bleeding liberal heart south or my pancake-beer-loving-stomach north?

________________

People who vote in college football polls should not be allowed to vote come November. Georgia was ranked #1 at the beginning of the year and has won all of their games so far. USC beat a pathetic UVA team the first week of the season and rocketed to number one. All the pundits kept talking about how this UVA team had been to the Gator Bowl and won 9 games last year, but they somehow forgot to mention that UVA's quarterback from last year was kicked out of school and that all of those 9 wins were by an average of 0.0000000124 points. These people need to quit voting on style points, NFL potential, and tradition. Let the teams play, and if stunts like this are going to happen, then either don't have preseason rankings or go to a playoff format.

Further proof of what I'm talking about...


__________________

R.I.P. Paul Newman...I hope to write something proper in the next week....



He was an amazing performer and human being. There is no comparison past or present.

Georgia vs. Arizona St. : a marriage proposal

Last weekend, I missed the last three quarters of the Georgia-South Carolina game because of a wedding. I wasn't all that bummed, however, because I'm actually a pretty big fan of weddings.

In fact, I love weddings and not just because of the movie Wedding Crashers, although that doesn't hurt, but what I really love is seeing the bride and groom on display, like bugs pinned down in a glass case. I like to see their facial expressions as the marriage pin bears down on them. Do they smile at eternity or do they squirm from the pressure?

I also love the anticipation that builds for the reception because throughout the ceremony, I'm really just wondering what drink to order first. This past Saturday I went with Jim Beam and Coke. I'm usually a beer guy, but I decided to spice it up.

But it's not just the bride and groom as lab rats that I enjoy or the Christmas Eve anticipation for an open bar, it's that I think I'm a better person at weddings than I am anywhere else. I feel I was born to celebrate.

At one point, I was dancing with a girl and both her earrings went flying from her lobes. One went to the left, and one went to the right. I caught the one that went to the right in my left hand, and the one that went to the left in my right hand, never losing the beat and not spilling my drink. Yes, I grew a third arm specifically for this occasion because I came prepared, and last Saturday, I was prepared to be a dancing machine. It was my night, and it didn't matter what the band threw at me.

Stevie Wonder...nailed it. "Shout"...on top of it. Frank Sinatra...swung it. I could have danced to a kazoo and an accordian duet last weekend and been on point.

Maybe the steady chain of Jim Beam and Cokes was my Popeye's spinach, my cream and the clear, or maybe it was the relief I got when Langston texted me that Georgia had escaped from South Carolina with a 14-7 victory, intercepting the Gamecocks' final chance to score in the end zone that loosened up my hips and spine. Either way it was a strange coincidence that I received the victory news only a few minutes after the preacher said, "you may now kiss the bride."

Earlier, when I left the hotel, the score of the game was still 0-0, at the end of the first quarter, and Langston sent me a text asking for a prediction. I faked confidence and sent Langston a Georgia 35 South Carolina 17 text. I made the prediction more to calm my own nerves than the fact that I thought it would actually happen. There was no way Georgia was going to put up 35 points with the way their receivers were dropping Stafford's passes, but sometimes, one has to go out on a limb. Sometimes, one has to make a leap of faith. Sometimes, one has to dance.

Sometimes, a fan has to ask, "will you marry me?"

Love does not always travel in a straight line. Georgia started the season number one, and I was preparing one-liners for all the other SEC schools, polishing my tongue like a hunting knife. I was ready to talk some shhhhh...that's right, all of the profane cockiness got quickly muted when Georgia started the season 3-0, but slipped to number three in the polls.

The first two games of the season were like casually talking to a girl at work, slowly getting to know her. There was no pressure in the back and forth discourse; it was Georgia Southern and Troy. South Carolina was the first date, and it went alright; but it's unclear where this relationship is headed now. Relationship might even be too strong of a word because at this point, fate seems to be against this Georgia season's marriage to a national championship, and in turn, this season may not wind up on display, like a bug, in a glass case, in every Georgia fan's memory.

Did I mention the road to the altar is not always a straight line? Did I mention Georgia is 3-0 but sliding in the polls? The stars appear crossed. This season's girl seems too busy. She's infatuated with other suitors. She's playing the field, and she's calling less than she did during the summer. The first date went well--14-7. It wasn't flawless, but everyone left saying they had a good time. Love zigs. Love zags. And there are nights when receivers catch everything, like they have three arms--two that catch earrings and one that steadies the Jim Beam and Coke. But there are also nights when earrings fall and the drinks splatter, making the dance floor a sea of lost pearls.

Georgia dropped some pearls against South Carolina, but the season was not lost. She'll call back. It might not be immediately, but true love is patient and finds ways to occupy the waiting.

This past week I went to work and didn't think of the South Carolina game at all. Tonight, I checked my messages. Nothing. But I know she's calling back tomorrow. Tomorrow she will zig, and I will zag, meeting somewhere in a desert, looking for lost pearls.

Tomorrow, Georgia makes their proposal, and more important than the "yes" or the "no" may be the style points they receive from the voters because apparently, the size of the diamond does matter.

The road to marriage, however, is built on trust and taking one game at a time. In other words, love takes eternity, and diamond rings are built from centuries of pressure, not three weeks of statistics and opinion.

(Georgia wins over Arizona St., but I'm not making any score predictions. Also, congratulations, Jon and Jess. You deserve it.)

Georgia Running Back Knowshon Moreno: Thicker than Blood

Blood is valuable.

Behind Gaines Elementary School in Athens, Georgia, one can see where the rain went mining for blood, carving veins in the hillside that runs down from the earth shelter to a swing set that sits by a parking lot that's never used.

And the rain for all its efforts would puddle in between the hill and the swing set, right where we played football during recess. We tackled each other in the tears of a miner who could not understand the value of the treasure he found. Our clothes soaked up his sadness as we ran through it.

Blood is valuable.

In the south, if a person can trace their lineage, then they can trace their worth, their goodness in the eyes of the community. Rain falls from the sky, and perhaps, the sky is the closest we can come to seeing a physical God. Evolution tells us we crawled out of the oceans. What are oceans but collection plates filled with rain? Our blood crawled out of the rain, and rain is heaven sent.

Blood is valuable.

At swim meets in Cedar Creek, lanterns hung around the pool and reflected off the water like large lightning bugs, or were they small moons? The sides of the pool felt crowded like azalea bushes around the front porch. Fingers were smeared with pizza and popcorn grease and everyone drew a collective breath, held it in, and then released it in the trigger pull of a starter's pistol. Buckets of flesh splashed into the pool and churned it like butter, like ice cream, like sugar inside a womb.

"What's the name of that boy out in front?"
"The boy in lane four? That's Tommy's boy. His dad runs the sporting goods store off of Gaines School Road."

Blood matters.

On the soccer field, a parent asks, "who's the fast kid?"
"That's Bob Cooper's boy."

It's important there too.

In seventh grade, I played basketball with a kid named Quentin Moses, and he stood out amongst all of us as if he were a prophet. I even wondered if his mom told him stories about how a member of his family authored the Ten Commandments, that every time he blocked one of our shots he thought to himself, "Try and keep my family out of the Promised Land. God, I dare you just to try and do that."

Blood is important. Blood is the present, the gift of history, to be given, to be received, and to be lived.

When we ran for touchdowns behind Gaines Elementary, we were living the past of Georgia Bulldog football, hoping to be its future. Covered in rainwater, we felt possessed by the highlights of Fran Tarkenton and Eric Zeir, and we remembered years and dates that happened before we were born like they were the present, like 1980, the year Georgia won the national title, with a 12-0 record.

(Really, there is more)
Around here, we treat bulldogs like royalty, like pharaohs, like verses out of Dteronomy. Uga III begat Uga IV, who begat Uga VI and so it goes, and I'm sure shoulder pads feel as heavy as stone tablets, as heavy as blood.

Herschel Walker, in his playing days, stood 6'1" and weighed 225 pounds, plus the weight of the three Super Bowl trophies Minnesota traded to Dallas for him.

Rodney Hampton's name sounds a lot like Fred Hampton's, making him as intimidating as a Black Panther.

Garrison Hearst sued Benjamin Franklin for plagiarism and discovered lightning.

Terrell Davis always seemed to be held back like a marionette by his hamstrings, until he went to Denver and proved to be more than just a real boy, but a man standing a mile high.

Robert Edwards' transition from defensive back to running back was akin to Odysseus casting off the face of a beggar's and laying claim to his kingdom in between the hedges. I was there that day and remember seeing him shoot an arrow through the eyes of a hundred Gamecocks.

Knowshon, know that blood is thicker than water, but red and black is thicker than blood. It soaks into the clay, and all the sons and daughters of Georgia carry it, inside their houses, on their socks, in their shoes, on their shirts, on their shorts, and on their skin, staining their mothers' floors, sinks, bath tubs, and counters with it, so it can never be forgotten.

Adam came from clay, and we don't forget the dirt and the rain, or how they come together, to make blood; and we're hoping that you, too, give us something we won't forget.

Bring the reign, Knowshon, we've been waiting for it since 1980.

Georgia is #1 in the Polls: the Twelve Labors of Hercules

"It's the dismal tide. It is not the one thing."


"You can't stop what's comin'. It ain't all waitin' on you, that's vanity."


--Cormac McCarthy, No Country for Old Men


In No Country for Old Men, Llewellyn follows a blood trail to a brief case full of two million dollars. He takes the brief case, even though it's clearly weighted down with a death wish. The character of Chigurh then begins to hunt him down, as does a gang of Mexican drug dealers. Llewellyn puts up a good fight. He's a hard deer to catch, but is eventually caught and shot dead. Georgia is number one in several preseason polls, and I can't help thnking the ranking carries with it a tracking device, a two million dollar death wish.

I have never seen Georgia win a national title. I have never even seen them play for one. The closest experience I've had to watching them play for one was last season in an Arlington bar during the West Virginia-Pitt game. The bar is run by a WVU alum and is the northern Virginia headquarters for Mountaineer fans. I spent the whole night rooting for Pitt, which was a stupid act of bravery, considering my surroundings.

I rooted for Pitt because I thought a WVU loss would propel Georgia into the BCS title game. It didn't. Oklahoma and LSU both leapfrogged my Bulldogs in the BCS rankings, and we wound up playing mighty Hawaii in the Sugar Bowl. The experience felt like it all hinged on one of Chigurh's coin flips, an act of chance.

Fate is not always on our side. Destiny does not reward everyone with greatness. I risked my life rooting for Pitt in a WVU bar for nothing. Let it be known that this offseason has been very slow in passing, excruciatingly slow.

For months now, I've been counting down to the college season, but as it gets closer, as it gets more real, I find more reasons to doubt my Bulldogs' chances.

We got blown out by Tennessee last year. We played the first half of the season as if we were entitled. I've never seen us beat Florida two years in a row, six players are already suspended for games this season, and UGA VI died of heart failure. Why did it have to be heart failure? Why couldn't UGA VI have been hit by a car? Heart failure sounds too much like the way a football team might die on the field. These are bad omens I fear. I can hear CCR's "Bad Moon Rising" playing softly in the background, and I wonder, with a great deal of anxiety, how will this team play being the hunted and not the hunter.

I hope that this team's fate as the hunted does not match Llewellyn's. What really scares me is not the failures of past Georgia teams or the suspensions. Offensive lineman Clint Boling will miss one game for a wreckless driving ticket. I got a wreckless ticket once and wound up working in a law office that summer because of the ticket. Bad can be transformed into good, so no, what worries me is Georgia's schedule.

Hercules was born the son of Zeus, but not the son of Hera. Her jealousy of Zeus' affairs marked Hercules at birth as a blemish to be wiped off the earth, so she plotted and schemed against Hercules his entire life. Some might say her jealousy was misplaced. Afterall, Zeus and Hera were siblings, and Zeus going elsewhere for sex could be construed as the king of the gods finally becoming aware of incest as something dirty and ugly, the kind of thing that produces misshapen gods like Hephaestus. Zeus never made this argument, and Hera would not have accepted it. She looked at Hercules and saw a target for her rage, and the sum of her plotting against Hercules was his twelve labors at the hands of Eurystheus. Here are Georgia's:

Georgia Southern
Central Michigan...These two games will not be counted as part of the twelve labors. They are more like the serpents Hera places in Hercules' crib. He strangles them in the night despite being an infant. If Hercules had died in his crib, then he didn't deserve to be a hero. If Georgia loses one of these games, they don't deserve a championship now or ever.

@ South Carolina...In Columbia, South Carolina, Georgia will find their Nemean Lion. Last year, South Carolina came into Sanford Stadium and beat Georgia. It was terrible, and it was a huge reason as to why the BCS coin flip did not favor the Dawgs. I hope they bring Spurrier's skin back to Athens this year and nail it on the arches.

@ #16 Arizona State...In the desert, the Dawgs will find a many-headed hydra. The lesson on how to defeat the Sun Devils is laid out perfectly by Hercules and Iolaus: cut off the beast's heads and burn the stumps of its necks, so nothing grows back.

Alabama...When the Crimson Tide come to Athens, Mark Richt and company must capture the golden stag of Artemis. Alabama was once football royalty. If Georgia fleeces some more of this school's former glory, then Georgia continues its march to the throne.

#18 Tennessee...The Volunteers are the Erymanthian Boar. Hercules' job was to capture it unharmed, but in this tale that Matthew Stafford is writing, the boar may have to die.

Vanderbilt...Playing Vandy will be like cleaning the Augean stables in a single day. At this point in the season, sandwiching this game in the middle of Alabama, Tennessee, LSU, and Florida seems a bit degrading to the Dawgs; I hope they mop the floor with the Commodores.

@ #6 LSU...Tiger Stadium is known for smelling like bourbon, filled with thousands of drunk LSU fans, who yell the entire game like only the slovenly intoxicated can. This game will be like going to war. Hercules' sixth labor was to slay the Stymphalian birds, who belonged to Ares, the Greek god of war. These birds could shoot metallic feathers at their enemies and their dung was toxic, smelling as I would imagine Tiger Stadium does.

#5 Florida (neutral site)...Hercules' seventh labor was to slay the Cretan Bull. He strangled it in his bare hands. This strategy might be the only way to stop Tim Tebow. Dannell Ellerbe and Rennie Curran, have at it.

@ Kentucky...Kentucky is horse country, so what better place to go if one has to steal the Mares of Diomedes, horses that graze on human flesh.

@ #11 Auburn...The Dawgs will be going into Jordan-Hare Stadium to steal the girdle of the Amazon queen Hippolyta. That's right, the Tigers are a bunch of girls.

Georgia Tech... The Tenth Labor of Hercules was to obtain the cattle of Geryon. Geryon may be the stupidest monster ever. He's got three heads, six arms, three bodies, and one pair of legs, which sounds like the kind of monster silly engineering students from Georgia Tech might create. I bet Geryon couldn't even take Goro from Mortal Kombat in a fight.

SEC Championship Game (Atlanta)...The Eleventh Labor of our hero was to steal the apples of the Hesperides, which were guarded by a hundred-headed dragon. If Georgia makes it out of the SEC East, then they will likely be in for a rematch with either LSU, Auburn, or Alabama. It's hard to beat a team twice in the same year. The second time around it's like the team grew 99 more heads.

BCS Title Game...Hercules' last labor was to capture, without using weapons, the guardian of the Underworld Cerberus. Without Cerberus to guard the gates of Hades, one could pass among the living and the dead with ease. If Georgia wins this game, there are a lot of fans in red and black that will die happy.

Llewelyn chose to take the two million dollars, even if it meant risking death. Mark Richt and his players all chose to be at the University of Georgia. Because the BCS forgives a team easier that starts the season at the top, the preseason polls have given this team a good flip of the coin with the number one ranking, even if that ranking makes one a target. Hercules was once asked to make a choice between living a happy, easy life or a life filled with danger and glory. He chose the latter. The Bulldogs have to, and with the help of another coin flip or two, I hope it ends in immortality.

I'm still nervous, but it's a good kind of nervous, filled with the vain hope that this season is waiting for these Georgia Bulldogs to make it theirs.