After rehashing the abomination that was the UGA-Boise State game, I am now able to recant some of the weekend's events in a more clear light. I needed 48 hours to boil over, explode, cool off, have some comfort food (large Papa John's, giant Steak n Shake milkshake), watch other teams who sucked worse and then listen to the call-in show with Coach Richt. What an informative uplifter that was. Coachspeak, "we need to execute better," coachspeak, "scheme was off," coachspeak. I turned it off after some hick from Warner Robins said "irregardless" for the third time in one sentence. I could not take it anymore.
So, in order to feel better, I need to point out some things that happened over the weekend that were good and/or funny, cause Labor Day hasn't been this laborious since 1996, when we lost to Southern Miss 11-7 at home in Jim Donnan's first game. Some guy named Favre made our defense look like hell all game and I wondered if he'd ever make it to the NFL. Now, I wonder if he'll ever make like a tree and get the hell out, but I digress. (+1 for Back to The Future reference) This rehashing will pick me up at 6 AM Saturday morning, when I arose ready to meet the Boise Taterheads for the first time....
6:00 AM: Ding, Ding, Ding. Nope, it's not the alarm. It's the dream I just had. I was an MMA fighter and I was squaring off against LeGarrette Blount (the guy who coldcocked the Boise player last year after they beat Oregon). The bell had just rung and LeGarrette waddled toward me like a duck, so I laughed at him. Then his right hook got my jaw and the guest referee, Greg "The Hammer" Valentine, counted me out in four seconds. Time to hit Starbucks.
6:25 AM: I write a poem about GameDay as I down 24 ounces of rocket fuel. I already have my Georgia gear on. Another customer approaches me, "do the Bulldogs have a game today?" I cut my eyes at him in disbelief. An angel appears on my shoulder, "no, no, no, be nice!" On cue, the devil appears, "destroy this idiot, now." The devil says "you homo!" and disappears. (+1 for Animal House reference) I was in too good of a mood so I informed the man that we did indeed have a game today. He was wearing a fanny pack and black tennis shoes with black socks, so I was pretty sure that this guy probably played Magic: The Gathering and cared more about goblins and orcs than yards per carry.
6:45 AM: I venture to the Waffle House, which is full of Dawg fans. Aaaaaaah, my people. (+1 for Varsity Blues reference) I proceed to inhale an omelet, grits, hash browns, three tomato slices and four glasses of water. The jukebox is blaring and "Ramblin Man" is the choice. It's gonna be a good day. Then "Sexual Healing" comes on...
8:30 AM: I try to find a Planet Smoothie store because I'm still hungry. They are all out of business. I guess the health craze finally did them in too, since most of the smoothies contained about 300 grams of sugar. I guess my "Mediterreanean Monster" craving will have to wait. It's already 87 degrees at this point.
10:00 AM: I'm back at home, watching ESPN and catching up on high school scores. My nerves are already getting frayed because I see Lee Corso pointing with his pen and telling the country that Oklahoma IS the team to beat right now. Even if they've laid an egg in every BCS game they've played since 2001. I think back to the 2005 championship when USC absolutely destroyed them. I don't care if they gave Reggie Bush half of Los Angeles, that was an ambush unlike I've ever seen.
11:00 AM: It's time to get to Atlanta. Vinny and I haul down I-75, listening to Munson highlights and every hardcore rap song that exists on his Ipod. There's nothing like Ice Cube's "You Know How We Do It" on a Saturday morning. I find a Smoothie King on West Paces Ferry. At first, they wouldn't let me in because I didn't drive a Land Rover or attend a private school. So, I told them that my great, great uncle had the biggest house in White, Georgia. That seemed to pique their interest. Couple that with Vinny's Bimmer and I was in like Flynn. 950 calories of bliss.
12:30 PM: After navigating through traffic and the DragonCon crowd, we finally get to our parking space. DragonCon is something everyone should see. The best was the 400 LB Princess Leia, complete with the rolled up hair and white gown. Thank God she didn't wear the bronze bikini from Return of the Jedi, or I would have lost my smoothie in Vinny's car. If Tech people were wondering why their game did not sell out, look no further. All your fans were dressed as Storm Troopers, dwarves, and Hobbits I think.
1:15 PM: The tailgate is set up. I pour my first drink. It's about 137 degrees on the asphalt, so the ice melts before I'm done stirring. A hot breeze blows. Vaughan pulls out his brand new Coleman camping fan and puts in three "D" batteries. It does about six rotations and dies on the spot. Three people from Boise fall out in the parking lot and become french fries.
2:30 PM: We are busy laughing at Auburn's terrible performance against Utah State and sweating like Patrick Ewing in 3rd overtime at Madison Square Garden and the AC just went out. That dude could sweat more than anyone I've ever seen. We get in Vinny's car and get some air. Bystanders laugh as they see us turning inside the car, holding our shirts and shorts up so the air can cover all areas. The guys playing beer pong across the way are getting too drunk for their own good. They were probably born in 1992 from the looks of them. I suddenly feel old.
\
4:00 PM: Auburn pulls through and wins. I get a call from a friend in Alabama, "those are the luckiest SOBs on the planet!" A Boise fan walks by with black socks, black shoes and a fanny pack. He pulls out an asthma inhaler and uses it. The beer pong players tell him to go back to Dragoncon. We are going to win, I can feel it. I'm hungry again, so I crack three eggs and fry them on the asphalt with a medium rare steak. Three tents catch on fire.
7:00 PM: Walking to the game, roadie in hand. UGA fans that have been drinking all day = destruction of property. Today is no different. The yellow lot of the Georgia Dome parking complex looks like God took a giant weedeater and disintegrated 20,000 cases of beer and 10,000 bags of chips all over it. State pride, baby!
8:00 PM: Herschel Walker is the honorary captain for us. Boise's guy is a nobody. He looks like he just got out of bed after an all night bender in Idaho's undoubtedly wild bar scene. It's in the bag. Herschel fires up the crowd and puts the Boise guy in a rear naked choke and kills him. Just kidding, but it would have been funny/tragic. We win the toss and elect to receive. It's the only call we made all night that worked.
8:30-11:30: A hodgepodge of penalties, one yard draw plays, isolation fade routes to a 5'11 receiver, drops by our #1 receiver and our defense being asked to defend 40 yards of turf every time because our offense is more predictable than OJ's second trial. During the game, I contemplated several things: 1) Going to Dragoncon as Han Solo frozen in carbonite; 2) drowning myself in a urinal; 3) working the concession stand with the extremely friendly and helpful Georgia Dome staff (NOT); 4) Looking up the upcoming hockey schedule on the Iphone; and 5) buying a fanny pack and black shoes and socks. Terrible game.
The rest of the weekend:
I was in Park Hall, Dr. Poss's 10:10-11:00 Classic Literature class, learning about the Aeneid when it happened. I was wearing a red polo shirt, shorts and a white UGA hat with a frayed bill.
Football is one thing and I will forget this loss. I will never forget that day. God bless us.
So, in order to feel better, I need to point out some things that happened over the weekend that were good and/or funny, cause Labor Day hasn't been this laborious since 1996, when we lost to Southern Miss 11-7 at home in Jim Donnan's first game. Some guy named Favre made our defense look like hell all game and I wondered if he'd ever make it to the NFL. Now, I wonder if he'll ever make like a tree and get the hell out, but I digress. (+1 for Back to The Future reference) This rehashing will pick me up at 6 AM Saturday morning, when I arose ready to meet the Boise Taterheads for the first time....
6:00 AM: Ding, Ding, Ding. Nope, it's not the alarm. It's the dream I just had. I was an MMA fighter and I was squaring off against LeGarrette Blount (the guy who coldcocked the Boise player last year after they beat Oregon). The bell had just rung and LeGarrette waddled toward me like a duck, so I laughed at him. Then his right hook got my jaw and the guest referee, Greg "The Hammer" Valentine, counted me out in four seconds. Time to hit Starbucks.
6:25 AM: I write a poem about GameDay as I down 24 ounces of rocket fuel. I already have my Georgia gear on. Another customer approaches me, "do the Bulldogs have a game today?" I cut my eyes at him in disbelief. An angel appears on my shoulder, "no, no, no, be nice!" On cue, the devil appears, "destroy this idiot, now." The devil says "you homo!" and disappears. (+1 for Animal House reference) I was in too good of a mood so I informed the man that we did indeed have a game today. He was wearing a fanny pack and black tennis shoes with black socks, so I was pretty sure that this guy probably played Magic: The Gathering and cared more about goblins and orcs than yards per carry.
6:45 AM: I venture to the Waffle House, which is full of Dawg fans. Aaaaaaah, my people. (+1 for Varsity Blues reference) I proceed to inhale an omelet, grits, hash browns, three tomato slices and four glasses of water. The jukebox is blaring and "Ramblin Man" is the choice. It's gonna be a good day. Then "Sexual Healing" comes on...
8:30 AM: I try to find a Planet Smoothie store because I'm still hungry. They are all out of business. I guess the health craze finally did them in too, since most of the smoothies contained about 300 grams of sugar. I guess my "Mediterreanean Monster" craving will have to wait. It's already 87 degrees at this point.
10:00 AM: I'm back at home, watching ESPN and catching up on high school scores. My nerves are already getting frayed because I see Lee Corso pointing with his pen and telling the country that Oklahoma IS the team to beat right now. Even if they've laid an egg in every BCS game they've played since 2001. I think back to the 2005 championship when USC absolutely destroyed them. I don't care if they gave Reggie Bush half of Los Angeles, that was an ambush unlike I've ever seen.
11:00 AM: It's time to get to Atlanta. Vinny and I haul down I-75, listening to Munson highlights and every hardcore rap song that exists on his Ipod. There's nothing like Ice Cube's "You Know How We Do It" on a Saturday morning. I find a Smoothie King on West Paces Ferry. At first, they wouldn't let me in because I didn't drive a Land Rover or attend a private school. So, I told them that my great, great uncle had the biggest house in White, Georgia. That seemed to pique their interest. Couple that with Vinny's Bimmer and I was in like Flynn. 950 calories of bliss.
12:30 PM: After navigating through traffic and the DragonCon crowd, we finally get to our parking space. DragonCon is something everyone should see. The best was the 400 LB Princess Leia, complete with the rolled up hair and white gown. Thank God she didn't wear the bronze bikini from Return of the Jedi, or I would have lost my smoothie in Vinny's car. If Tech people were wondering why their game did not sell out, look no further. All your fans were dressed as Storm Troopers, dwarves, and Hobbits I think.
1:15 PM: The tailgate is set up. I pour my first drink. It's about 137 degrees on the asphalt, so the ice melts before I'm done stirring. A hot breeze blows. Vaughan pulls out his brand new Coleman camping fan and puts in three "D" batteries. It does about six rotations and dies on the spot. Three people from Boise fall out in the parking lot and become french fries.
2:30 PM: We are busy laughing at Auburn's terrible performance against Utah State and sweating like Patrick Ewing in 3rd overtime at Madison Square Garden and the AC just went out. That dude could sweat more than anyone I've ever seen. We get in Vinny's car and get some air. Bystanders laugh as they see us turning inside the car, holding our shirts and shorts up so the air can cover all areas. The guys playing beer pong across the way are getting too drunk for their own good. They were probably born in 1992 from the looks of them. I suddenly feel old.
\
4:00 PM: Auburn pulls through and wins. I get a call from a friend in Alabama, "those are the luckiest SOBs on the planet!" A Boise fan walks by with black socks, black shoes and a fanny pack. He pulls out an asthma inhaler and uses it. The beer pong players tell him to go back to Dragoncon. We are going to win, I can feel it. I'm hungry again, so I crack three eggs and fry them on the asphalt with a medium rare steak. Three tents catch on fire.
7:00 PM: Walking to the game, roadie in hand. UGA fans that have been drinking all day = destruction of property. Today is no different. The yellow lot of the Georgia Dome parking complex looks like God took a giant weedeater and disintegrated 20,000 cases of beer and 10,000 bags of chips all over it. State pride, baby!
8:00 PM: Herschel Walker is the honorary captain for us. Boise's guy is a nobody. He looks like he just got out of bed after an all night bender in Idaho's undoubtedly wild bar scene. It's in the bag. Herschel fires up the crowd and puts the Boise guy in a rear naked choke and kills him. Just kidding, but it would have been funny/tragic. We win the toss and elect to receive. It's the only call we made all night that worked.
8:30-11:30: A hodgepodge of penalties, one yard draw plays, isolation fade routes to a 5'11 receiver, drops by our #1 receiver and our defense being asked to defend 40 yards of turf every time because our offense is more predictable than OJ's second trial. During the game, I contemplated several things: 1) Going to Dragoncon as Han Solo frozen in carbonite; 2) drowning myself in a urinal; 3) working the concession stand with the extremely friendly and helpful Georgia Dome staff (NOT); 4) Looking up the upcoming hockey schedule on the Iphone; and 5) buying a fanny pack and black shoes and socks. Terrible game.
The rest of the weekend:
- Oregon got "quacked" by hitmen from Louisiana. I guess guys with dreadlocks from Slidell, Louisiana don't really seem to care about suspensions when their defense is that stout. Seriously, #3? Oregon? Good work, Tigers.
- Maryland singlehandedly won the ugliest uniform contest and it wasn't even close. This was like McGovern vs. Nixon in '72. It looked like somebody took the Maryland state flag and red carpet and told a classroom of six year olds to make a uniform.
- Steve Spurrier is a genius. Sit your starting QB, spot East Carolina seventeen points and then come from behind to blow them out. Half of their fans probably died from a heart attack in the first quarter, so maybe they won't be in Athens this Saturday.
- Skip Holtz is a quote machine. When asked about beating Notre Dame in South Bend, he replies, "we didn't come up here with cameras." That's some serious cahonies. (Ahem, UGA coaches) Good work, USF.
- Camden County, Georgia defeated Glennville, Ohio in a 23-14 grudge match in Cleveland. It's always fun to listen to Robert Smith and Kirk Herbstreit make excuses as Ohio's best team gets mollywhopped in their own backyard by a bunch of swamp people from Georgia, running the Wing-T like it's 1986.
I was in Park Hall, Dr. Poss's 10:10-11:00 Classic Literature class, learning about the Aeneid when it happened. I was wearing a red polo shirt, shorts and a white UGA hat with a frayed bill.
Football is one thing and I will forget this loss. I will never forget that day. God bless us.