So you’ve had a bad week. You’re ambivalent. You’re downright agnostic. You can’t even seem to get out of bed and you sure haven’t even seen the television remote since your mom left town on Monday to visit Aunt Sara down in Lagrange.
No. Shut the hell up. I’m not talking about no damn election. This is football son. It’s actual serious bidness. It’s not decided by no electoral college and it sure don’t have no hanging chads.
I’m talking about you...yes, you there with the Auburn tickets that’ve been on stubhub since mid-October. You with the four day old mustard stain on your chin. You the “fan” who was not so quietly hoping for a loss in the bluegrass so you could somehow and in some goddamn way justify selling those seats even to an auburn “grad” since they haven’t moved off of your outrageous initial asking price.
You need a bath and some smelling salts. That, or maybe just an enema. However, I’ve got work to do and I couldn’t really take the time to give a damn. So…
I was wrong.
Once, way back in August before I knew that blocking on the offensive line could be so offensive and actually downright optional, I opined that this Saturday’s contest and renewal of the Deep South’s oldest rivalry could be the Gus Bus’s last stop on the Official WarTiglesmen’s sweater vest tour.
I can’t remember if I was drunk or just that goddamn stupid, but looking back I know that I was wrong.
“Auburn comes to town possibly in their own desperate straits. Unless Coach Malzahn still has some magic up his sleeve, the War Plainsmen could be fighting for bowl eligibility. Meanwhile, Smart’s Dawgs are ready to enjoy a three-game homestand to finish the regular season and maybe help Chubb get over the 2000 yard mark.”
Haha. So stupid. “Siri, what is 2000 yards rushing?” … ….. … …. “Bernie, are you still a Georgia fan?”
|"Hey! (clapclapclap) Hey siri. Hey. We're in the real for real |
CFB rankings. (clapclapclap) Hey! (clapclapclap)"
Shuddup. Of course I am.
I did get closer to the mark later in that post though…
“It will be interesting to see how this young team finishes under its new coach. It’s hard not to expect a bad showing at this part of the season. Which is why I’m glad we get Auburn at home. Hopefully it’s a night game and Sanford provides some pep in the team’s step.
I think the key to beating the Tigers will be how much our linebackers develop in the first nine games and how well our secondary can tackle. A big game from players like Bellamy and Carter and a healthy ground attack could give us our seventh win of the season.”
(Okay, so maybe it would just be our sixth win. Sue me or just ask for your money back at the end of this post.)
You’re welcome. The main point is that I was really wrong but I still hate Auburn. That hasn’t changed and it won’t. Not as long as there are sheep that they will bed down with and bagmen that they’ll meet on a darkened corner against a backdrop of toilet paper drifting amongst the tree limbs.
So romantic. Dumbasses.
HOLD ONTO THE BALL!
That's the wife's rallying cry. It comes when there is either a sense of urgency or a sense of importance. Actually, usually both.
Chubb breaks into the secondary...HOLD ONTO THE BALL! When Sony rounds the corner on a sweep...HOLD ONTO THE BALL! When Sanders intercepts a pass and begins a run back...HOLD ONTO THE BALL DAMMIT!!
She's a superstitious soul and calling out the obvious is both necessary and vital to our survival.
But tomorrow it takes on an even deeper meaning. Yes, every offensive player needs to hold onto the ball as if it were the last swig from the handle of bourbon and it's 3:01 and Uncle Verne is knocking on the door and making sure Gary is done taking his pregame dump. And every ball intercepter that wears the Georgia G needs to grasp that pigskin like it was the last biscuit on grandma's Sunday table.
Holding onto the ball means more than ball security and more yardage. It's also controlling the one thing that Gus has a hard on for even more than orange tweed with no sleeves.
Holding onto the ball means Sean White has more time to pick his nose. Holding onto the ball means Pettway has more time to contemplate why his mom didn't use more C's in his first name and less estrogen.
|"I can't talk now. I'm trying not to pee."|
Holding onto the ball means we want it more. We need it more. It means we recognize that football is not patty-cake, two hundred speed sweeps, and singalongs. It's for men with bad intentions. It's eight of the last ten and hungry for eleven.
“Well they just got to the ball fast and they tackled. We need to change that faulty tire, rebuild the transmission, and maybe take one of their safeties that I can convert to a quarterback or running back or even a quarterback or something so we can beat oregon again cuz my wife wants a new house and also a goat she can milk.
Hashtag West Opelikan livestock, but I digress.
Also I think there should be a rule that their current safeties that haven’t stolen money and other shit from their own locker room have to tip the ball in the air so that our finely trained receivers can successfully and unabated run under that thing to score. It just fits our systems the way I’ve drawn this program up since the beginning. All of the success we’ve had has been predicated on other institutional programs’ generosity and ...and ...and basically free loading off of that so that our fans can get what they’ve waited for and also war eagle!
“Yes, coach...why’d you go for it on 4th and 32 from your own 12, in the first quarter...on the opening possession?
“War eagles. Next question.”
|More heart than any words that've ever come|
out of Trigga Tray's mouth. Ever.
Maximum effort. Laid onto the turf.
I’m not asking much y’all. We haven’t been home in weeks. Is it too much to suggest that we come together with one common goal? Is it ridiculous to mention that it’d be nice if you stop searching for our next head coach and log off the dawgvent for just 12 hours so that we can tailgate in Fall’s absolute resplendent splendor? Is it out of order to demand your absolute best and 100% of your determination and 200% of your voice so that we can do our part in the prime Saturday spot tween the hedges?
I’m only asking because quite honestly I doubt your loyalty. No, not you with the Tahoe packed before 3pm Friday. And not you who told an Auburn coworker that absolutely not would you take two bills apiece for your four tickets.
Y’all are leaders among the boys. You’re Deandre Baker not giving up on the deep pass. You’re Rodrigo lining up his toe and Eason when the clock hits under two minutes.
We have to commit to the G and we have to get after that ass! Auburn is in town and they’re drunk on their own bullshit. A half a tick and Les Miles is still coaching while Gus asks your wife whether she wants paper or plastic. One more Holstein on I-20 outside Toomers’ Corner and these barners are late for the kickoff.
We’re Georgia. We’ve been ready since 10:47pm last Saturday night. We’re the Dawgs and Saturday night is alright for fightin’. Get a little action in...now, let’s bow our heads. God bless our veterans, Tra Battle, and please HOLD ONTO THE BALL!! Go Dawgs y’all! Amen.