Autumn Fire: Love from Georgia Football on Vimeo.
Damn. Well then. I stand corrected.
Tradition. Saturday. Athens.
I ain't telling you anything you didn't already know. I'm just telling you what you want to hear.
We didn't come this far...we didn't endure those trips...we didn't run those drills...we didn't walk that walk...we didn't cry those tears...we didn't raise that flag...we didn't join our hands...we didn't attack the day...we didn't move those chains...we didn't drain that clock...we didn't pack that house...we didn't stretch that ball...we didn't black out...we didn't drink them cocktails...we didn't refuse to lose faith...we didn't challenge our own endurance...we didn't force their hand...we didn't commit to the G...and we didn't look our our own faults in the mirror...
...without wanting, without needing to finish this season tomorrow. In Athens. In Sanford.
You. Me. Us.
Together. Family is Georgia and Georgia is Family. We're not in this for one game. And we're not here just for one season. We're joined by a common bond. And we unite one more time together to fulfill one objective.
In one word we find the true meaning of this game - Clean old fashioned hate.
Who wants this more? Do you?
The last Saturday of the season isn't about bowl game selection and it's not about television pundits. Relegated to another midday affair, we must rally and we must be ready. We must slough off the lethargy, the gravy, the discontent, and the discord. We must suffer on to fight. We must be strongest when the face of our enemy is at its boldest. We must hold on.
I'm tired. You're tired. They're tired. The easiest thing would be to let go, and take whatever comes. But that's not how you're built. That's not how I'm made. That's not why they ran themselves so hard. The song says we're a little unsteady, but together we can make this stand.
We are Georgia. We are Family. We stand together and we will endure these last sixty minutes. Because they are our last. As one we will rise to meet our seniors and we will pour our hearts, our souls, and every ounce of our voices into this team's spirit. They run out of the tunnel and we run down the aisles. They stop their ball carrier and we rise as one to crush their spirit.
I enter Sanford tomorrow with the memories of legends past. I gaze upon the hallowed turf through the eyes of those that have set the bar so high - Stanfill, Hines, Amp, Wansley, (JASPER WAS DOWN GODDAMMIT!!), Kanon Parkman, Bobo to Allen, and the greatest of all...the Drought-Breaker..Theron Sapp!
Take my hand. Let's do this together. Records don't matter, because tradition is on our side. It's red. It's black. And it lives within us. Now please, bow your heads...Dear Lord God....please let tomorrow be Al Ford's day at the methodone clinic. Thanks and pass the gravy one more time! Amen.