Dear Lord Jesus, please.
Just, please.
Please join us in the Jazz Hands!
Amen.
The danger of revisiting historical references is our innate ability as humans Georgia Bulldogs to repeat past failures. What I mean by that is this: the 2015 Georgia Bulldogs never were part of the 2008 Blackout. Some of them were barely in middle school at the time. And most of this year's roster weren’t in the Dome when the confetti rained crimson instead of red. (Those that were there however know that this game can be won or lost on just a handful of plays.)
Together, you and I, let’s take a step forward and turn our backs on the past. Billy Bennett was “Man Enough”, but that was over a decade ago. “One and Done” was spectacular, but now Stafford gets paid millions to make those throws. The Bicentennial Beatdown was before the forward pass was even legal.
I think.
I want to make a statement about THIS football team, not their predecessors. I know the heartbreak that can come from losing a game of this magnitude. You do too. There’s no need to remind ourselves. Let’s focus on 2015. Let’s make tomorrow special. For although we cannot control the past, we can grasp the future.
On this episode of wOrD PLaY!!...
If you rearrange the letters in “Alabama Crimson Tide Football” you get “Yes, Jonathan Taylor was once here”.
If you go to Thesaurus.com (aka Blogger’s Paradise City), and enter “Nick Saban”, the third entry down on the second column is Dwarfmongerer. So then you click on Dictionary.com (aka “Help I don’t know WTF this means”) and enter “Dwarfmongerer” and find out it’s a noun that means a greedy, narcissistic dictator that also uses a step stool to address his minions.
Ask bonafide Crimson Tidal graduates what the word “Chubb” means and the male will look down at his private organ and chuckle, while the female one will sigh deeply. Then pick her nose.
It is untrue that Alabama ranks at the bottom of the nation in college entrance exam scores. Now that you can no longer take the SAT barefooted they’ve pulled ahead of Tennessee on the math section by exactly 10 points.
Scholars believe the word comes from the Choctaw alba (meaning "plants" or "weeds") and amo (meaning "to cut", "to trim", or "to gather"). The meaning may have been "clearers of the thicket or "herb gatherers", referring to clearing land for cultivation or collecting medicinal plants.
If only it meant “clearers of the nose and back hair” instead, am I right ladies?
From the police blotter -
Krystalling - /verb/ to rub one’s privates on any drunken, unsuspecting poor bastard.
And in the words of noted Alabammian Culturalist Antoine Dodson - “Run tell dat!”
Your voice is not enough
Every ounce of energy must be left at your seat tomorrow night. If you walk out of the Sanford gates with anything in the tank you have failed the team you came to cheer for. Win or lose, it must all be spent. Do you want to wake up Sunday morning and realize you had more to give and instead of offering it to the team, the atmosphere, the cool night air that will hang over us like a gridiron shroud, you decided to hold onto it?
For what? Why hold onto something that has the sole purpose of being used in support of the Red and Black? Why keep within you what has been born with the sole purpose of coming out?
We are Georgia. We stretch the leash to the very end. We use every muscle and every ounce of intestinal fortitude to latch onto what we feel is rightfully ours, whether it’s Robert Baker’s ass or a clearer path to championship destiny. We pound the G, because to lightly tap it is to tell Billy Bennett he doesn’t have enough leg, or to tell Mikey Henderson he’s too small, or to accept UGA admin’s advice and just stay the hell home.
In the words of Mrs. Bernie, “Aw hell no!”
We POUND the G! because our heart must be in it to win it. We STAND UP because to sit is to endorse complacence. We FINISH THE DRILL because there are those that are expecting nothing less. We GET AFTER THAT ASS because, simply put, crimson and white looks better with grass stains.
We POUND the G!! because our voice is not nearly enough. We enter together and we leave together, for better or worse, with one game to lose and everything to gain.
They are alabama. They live in opulence, practice indoors, and are above any and all criticism mere mortals clumsily propel their way. They have no need to pander for they are the ones who are pandered to. They eat extra salty pork rinds drizzled in chocolate syrup, past due date cream cheese, and peanut butter covered fatback just to prove they can still shit out five stars. They twitch and ESPN squirms. They invent new historic trophies just to indulge their sense of entitlement. If/When they lose, it’s because the game balanced itself as an outlier; a whimsical happenstance for the ages rather than an honest toe to toe tussle of might and strength.
We are GEORGIA. We’ve been rained on all week. We fight for every morsel of attention cast our way and earn every ounce of respect given. We watch our weight and, regardless of false rating systems, appreciate every young man who signs on to wear the G. We reminisce without reinvention. We take what’s been earned and give back when necessary. While we admit to taking indoor plumbing for granted, we’re not one to brag about blessings. When we win, it’s because of the work, the effort, the blood, the sweat, and the tears that got us there.
Saturday Night’s Alright For Fighting. SO LET'S GET THIS THING ON AND RING THE GODDAMN BELL!
