Forget the hug this week, I just need a win. And any win will do. Blowout. One-point. Overtime. The last time our beloved Dawgs outscored an opponent was the day I turned 39 (again). As nice as it was to use the engiNerds to gain bowl eligibility, I had no idea I would still be waiting on the next win nearly 10 months later.
There have been no combinations of rituals and clean pairs of underwear that have helped us out of this miserable streak. But it ends tomorrow...I think. It'll basically amount to a bloodletting.
There's nothing better than taking the family to Sanford on an almost Fall Saturday. The lone drawback is my family consists of all women...and me. Granted two of the women are elementary age, but still...it's in their DNA to make men wait. Of course, this isn't going to be an issue with me when they start dating. I'll enjoy my time with the pimpled puberty survivor while they're upstairs changing outfits and primping. Endlessly. All while I sit there, cleaning my gun...slowly.
But on gameday Saturdays I'm ready to GET!! I'm awake by 5 or so anyway with nothing to do but ponder depth charts and last second tailgating tweaks. If it's just me and the guys I simply mosey on out the door. But tomorrow I'll force myself to lie there. Staring at the ceiling, I'll wait. Tick tock. Tick tock. Every 30 seconds or so I'll turn to the clock to see if an hour has passed yet.
WHY WON'T THE CLOCK TURN?!? IT'S BEEN A WEEK SINCE I'VE BEEN TO ATHENS, CAN'T WE JUST GO ALREADY?!?
What's worse for attendance than an 0-2 start to the season? Having a stale cupcake as the third course. Don't get me wrong, Coastal is just what the win column ordered. But there's enough tension in the Dawg Nation right now to bend a steak knife into a bowtie. Tomorrow quite simply, can't help things.
There's just no way to equal the excitement and energy of 92k fans on their feet pressing their voices against every twig in the hedges. You just can't do it with a 1:00 kick against a herd of kittens. Of course, we weren't able to equal it last week against a bitter conference foe...so, whatevs.
But I keep getting this picture in my head of me and the family getting to our seats, the stadium is not close to full, but that's okay because it's early yet. Then the minutes tick by and still only 50-60 thousand inside. My heart starts to pump harder, noticeably. My hands start to clench. Where is everyone? It's time to tee it up and I'm going to be able to hear my daughters' voices echo off the north side of the stadium. My teeth clench as I see thousands of people wandering around on the bridge.
Then I glance at the visiting section and it's full of chanticleers. They've been playing football for less than a decade and I can hear their fans over our own. Then my oldest will probably ask for the 10th time in 20 minutes if she can have cotton candy and I'll be distracted, but only momentarily.
The Anti-Kernkraft Sentiment
I don't want to hear this song ever again in Sanford. Ever. Period. Perhaps last week was simply our punishment for laughing hysterically at others who delight in the opportunity to "sing" it and jump up and down together while their team takes a breather on the sideline opposite Duke University's tackle football team. Perhaps last week was an aberration...or a prank played by some pre-nuclear physics dungeon master major at North Avenue.
Whatever it was, I hope it is just that - was, past tense. Done. Gone. We're Georgia. GEORGIA!...BULLDOGS!! We don't sing the Budweiser song and we don't act like 12 year old girls at a Justin Beaver concert during stoppages in play.
That's about all that's appropriate for me to be miserable about right now. I mean, it's the Coastal Carolina Chanticleers. Which is either a french man who's always in tune with his choral friends...or it's a rooster that uses a bidet. Maybe vice versa, I don't know. At least McGarity is picking up the tab. Sometimes you just gotta buy your way out of a losing streak.
They don't always come free of charge like they did last week for the South Crackolina GameChickens. Ugh.