And now back to your regularly scheduled misery....
Tortured, uneasy feeling
Still uneasy about this game. The common expression this week has been something along the lines of "I hope we can avoid injuries." Yes, definitely. But isn't that a goal every week? Instead I wonder how focused we are and how prepared we are to face a team I would classify as a trojan horse cupcake. Usually when there is an FCS team on the schedule you can prepare for just a smaller, less athletic version of yourself.
Georgia Southern is a machine. And one that works in a different manner than most all of the others. Which makes them especially dangerous. Most of their players don't have all the "stars" that guys in the mighty SEC have, but they have more than enough "want to" and "hustle". And experience. No, they're not the same team that put a shit stain in Uncle Nicky's tightey whiteys last season. But they know as well as any team in America what it takes to win football games.
|Holy shit Southern! Pass the goddamn ball. At least once...|
But I digress....
These Eagles will put a scare into us. Take that to the bank. I'm predicting a tense halftime that eventually brings about an arduous third quarter that somehow relents to our depth and talent. But nearly a 40 point spread? Really? No, put away the sportsbook. The points are too much if you ask me.
Defensively, tomorrow is about discipline and keeping the Eagles in long yardage. I summarily reject the notion that this is a "tune-up" game for some clean old fashioned hate next week. Seven days from now we will have spent two weeks preparing for this offensive scheme - the cut blocks, the option reads and the misdirection. As it stands right now we've only spent a handful. So tomorrow will require focus.
Or, in the man's own words:
The "Mambo Gook" story goes like this: A young Georgia Tech engineering graduate had been working in the oil fields of Saudi Arabia for around six months. He was about to go stark raving mad because the only women that he had seen in Arabia were those dressed in the long gowns with the veils covering their faces. The women were not very friendly at all. As a matter of fact, he hadn't spoken to one since he had been working there.
He had been used to the feminine pulchritude of Peachtree Street in Atlanta and missed that scenery and his feminine companionship more than anything else. As he was sitting in the little bar at the golf course there in Saudi Arabia, he happened to be seated next to one of the local sheiks.
This particular sheik had spent some time in the United States and conversed with the young engineer as best he could with the little English he could speak. As they sipped on their drinks the young engineer expressed to the sheik that he liked everything fine, except he really missed the feminine companionship that he once enjoyed back in Atlanta. The sheik could get enough out of the conversation to understand what the young man meant. He promised the engineer that he would have, from his harem, one of his wives waiting for him when he got off from work the following afternoon.
Well, the young engineer hustled and worked through the day. He could hardly wait until quitting time. As he approached his tent, he saw this woman standing out front with her long gowns and veil. He figured that she knew why she was there and he surely knew why she was there, so he wouldn't waste any time. He picked her up right there at the tent flap, rushed her inside, threw her down on the cot and commenced to making wild, passionate love to the woman. Immediately she began to shout, "Mambo Gook," "Mambo Gook." She repeated that over and over and over again. The young engineer figured this was an Arabian expression of ecstasy.
Well, it didn't take too long for the young man to finish the first round and as soon as he relaxed his grasp, the woman still screaming, "Mambo Gook," ran through the tent flap and disappeared across the desert, continuing to scream, "Mambo Gook."
The next day the young engineer and the local sheik had made arrangements to play golf and the young engineer wanted a chance to thank the sheik for his courtesy of having the woman there. As they played the first hole, the sheik hit a magnificent shot, straight to the green, the ball hit, bounced and rolled right into the cup. It was a great golf shot and the young engineer wanted to express the greatness of that shot with something more than the usual, "Nice shot," or, "Great shot." The thought of the Arabian expression of ecstasy occurred to him, and he said, "Mambo Gook, sheik, Mambo Gook.".
The sheik turned to him, looked at him with amazement and said, "What do you mean, wrong hole?"
- pages 50-51, from Erk: Football, Fans and FriendsThe message is...gap integrity should never be compromised: "If you think you're coming my way, that's the wrong hole brother, because you ain't gonna make nothin' here." That and the life of an engiNerd is lonely, then pathetic and then lonely again.
But the first message is what is crucial. Stand your ground Dawgs. Survive and advance, then let's ring the Chapel Bell! Once again in the words of the legend - "There ain't nothin' like being a Bulldog on Saturday night - - - after winning a football game!!"