You bat that shit down.
We ain't ready. Not me. Not you.
We spent all week fighting over our own colors. We ain't ready. Our hashtags and our tweets and our lunch time chats and our phone conversations and our message bored typing and our emails and our BookFace posts and our dinner table conversations were all full of piss and vinegar and disdain for each other. We ain't ready. In a week when we should've pulled together, all we did was pull ourselves apart. We ain't ready. A day before the biggest damn game of the season and you're more worried about what I'm wearing tomorrow night than spending every goddamn second hating Auburn. We ain't ready. On the eve of the schedule's biggest nationally televised showdown and I'm more worried about whether there's enough bourbon in my tailgate cup to make it so far into the evening than I am about measuring just how high the Auburn tree grows without branching. We ain't ready. We had all week to do nothing but hate Auburn, and we just pissed that shit away. We ain't ready. We were kicking Kentucky's ass so hard it afforded us an extra couple hours to look down on our ugly ass step-sister from Opelika and yet all we did was beg Coach Richt to arrange our wardrobe. We ain't ready.
We ain't ready. But we're gonna get there. Tighten that belt. Drain that drink. Clench that fist and set that jaw. The days are up and we're down to hours now. Let's go...
|Proof. Ain't the size of the Dawg in the fight, but|
the size of the fight in the Dawg.
It's not the colors on your back that matters, because it's what's in your heart that makes a difference. I give you my word and I raise my hand. Please, let's ready them as one and let's steady them for the storm of emotions. Let's prepare our hearts and minds to weather the tumult below our feet. It won't be given to us so we must prepare to take it, to earn it with every moment and every snap of the ball. Just to say we are ready is not nearly enough. We must breathe it with every word and we must clench it against the cold November night air.
We've spent 41 days on the road away from home. We withstood obstacles we didn't know existed. We fought enemies we thought were vanquished. They said we were a team but with just one player. They said we were a program without merit. They said we couldn't and yet we did. They said we'd perish and yet we survived.
Our flaws were exposed for the world to see. And yet we scored. Yes, we scored against the odds and while he sat; we scored when they said we wouldn't and we scored when they said we couldn't.
|We are one.|
Talk is cheap and it said Mason wasn't ready. Talk is dirty and it said that other team "was due". Talk was for Saturday mornings and we came to play on Saturday afternoons. We didn't do it all but we did as much as we were able. We proved to be an imperfect team and an imperfect fanbase. Our vulnerabilities were displayed, at times embarrassingly. But together we're Georgia. Together we are one. Together we move forward, because divided we will lose.
They are Auburn. Their spring practice is writing checks and building "steeples". While we work, they copy answers and get the better grade. Lady Fortuna may have been born on Toomers' Corner, but she doesn't have a ticket to this game. She tried to hand me money but fumbled it on the snap.
They are Auburn. They cheat for the chance. We fight for the honor. They steal for the spotlight. We grind for the Glory. They are only Auburn, but we are always Georgia. Tomorrow is one more opportunity to stand beside you and with Munson in our ears and bourbon on our breath, hunker it down one more time you guys!
When the Dawgs take the field we will raise our eager hands and lay our voices down upon them as one. They will know we mean hard business when the earth beneath them shakes. There, in Sanford, we will stand side by side. Our voices will be one and our spirit will remain unbroken. We will bring everything we have to Athens, prepared to lay it all down.
Yes, the opportunity was there last year and it fell horrifically from our fingertips. This year, in Athens...tomorrow night, in Sanford, we're gonna BAT THAT SHIT DOWN!! Because we are Georgia, and because we are one.
Bow your heads please...Dear Lord, please protect the toilet paper dispensers in Athens this weekend. As well as our local livestock. And whenever you have a spare moment, hand Todd Gurley the ball. Again. Amen.