Jeff Schultz is right, this time.

Like you, I’ve been following and subsequently been confused by this Natrez Patrick affair. The facts are: 1) he’s known as much for being in the wrong pot at the wrong time as much as he is for making tackles, 2) the charges following the SECCG were dropped, 3) he subsequently both passed and failed a drug test, and 4) UGA is playing coy about his future.

Yesterday, the AJC’s most prolific pontificator since Terence Moore left town, Jeff Schultz weighed in. Schultz was his usual pompous, arrogant, click bait self. He pretended to know facts that he can’t possibly presume to know. He used the term “Bulldog Justice” with an air of both a thumb aside his nose and another up his ass.

VIA

But, he’s also right.

UGA shouldn’t let Patrick play any more games with a G on his helmet. The dude has a problem and not the least of it is that he puts smoking pot above playing for the University that you and I hold dear. He’d rather continue to get caught in the wrong place at the wrong time than increase our team’s chance at winning. Or more personally, he’d rather take chances around random marijuana leaves, however minuscule, than potentially increase his draft stock this spring.

There’s one thing I do know. And that is that Patrick has one game, potentially two games left at UGA. He’s moving on to the NFL regardless after this season. We can pretend that it’s to further his game and play at the next level. But the truth is that, from what we’ve witnessed, it’s more likely that he’s moving on to be able to afford a better strain of weed.

To allow him to play in the Rose Bowl is to give him a pass. He won’t learn and at best he’ll go on to be an average player that continues to put a chance to smoke weed above being a team player. At worst he puts all that above being a good man, son, dad, human being.

Sit him down and the stakes go up. He is forced to answer tougher questions. He is forced to show he can put football above his next toke on the pipe. He’s forced to re-evaluate his life decisions. He’s forced to become a man.

This isn’t a political issue. I’m not for pot legalization and I’m not against it. I’m glad the Barrow county charges were dropped because they were bullshit, to be perfectly honest. This isn’t a football issue either. Life is bigger than football. 

This is a personal issue. Kirby has a chance to help both his player and the program. What does every other player that practices hard and puts the team first learn if Natrez plays in Pasadena?

Yes, we are the new Georgia. We signed on for this and Kirby has us at the precipice of something special. But the truth is we don’t need Natrez Patrick to beat Oklahoma any more than we needed him during the games he was suspended. We can still be bigger than the issue, the lawyers, the newsprint, and the charges that #6 has brought to the spotlight.

We’re still Georgia. We can win with players that truly want to play football. And if I’m being perfectly honest, I’m not convinced Natrez Patrick really wants to play football.

the Friday Misery converses with the internet idiocy

It's short, but it's sweet. So grab the remote and let's dive right in! Because on this episode of “Conversations After a Loss”....

The Internets

1. “...and we all knew this would happen. We all knew Georgia would implode like this and what we thought was a magical season is actually just another flop and we’ll back our way into that Independence Bowl again because we can’t have nice things and oh have you seen this video of a chimpanzee cooking pop tarts in the microwave with the foil wrapper omg it makes me laugh so hard…”
2. “9-4 season. Not much better than last year to be honest.”
3. “So we need to beat Auburn or Bama, and then hope that…”
4. “I hope we do implode. Kirby needs to go back to the coordinator level. Hopefully we can get <INSERT NAME OF HOT MESSAGE BORED NFL COACH> before it’s too late!
5. “Lost a recruit. Whoa boy, here we go again.”

Reality

1. “Dude, we lost one game. Got our asses beat for sure. But all of our goals are still ahead of us.”
2. “No, are you high? We’re 9-1. Put down your crack pipe for one minute and sort through some facts okay?”
3. “Nope nope nope nope! Stop right there. What we need to do is beat Kentucky. That’s step one partner. Step two, beat Tech. Then we worry about Bama or Auburn. Get back on the winning run and the rest will take of itself.”
4. “Shut. Up.”
5. “If you believe for one second that we’re on a recruiting downtick, well, it might be time to go back on your meds.”

"I believeeeee I can fly!!" (via ABC Sports)

1+7+17+24+27 = 2017

Senior Day, the home closer if you will, is always a time for reflection. And when I think about all of these seniors, I’ll call back to that day that those mentioned in the subheading stood in front of the media and explained why they were staying in Athens for their senior season. Regardless of the final W-L record, regardless of whether we win the SECCG and make it into the CFB Playoffs, this season has been made possible by their leadership.

When you think about it, it’s really because of them that we haven’t had one home nooner this season. What a blessing!

And to be honest, how the team responds after last weekend’s loss will start with the senior leadership as well. I think they’re going to finish strong. I think Kentucky’s not going to know what hit them. I think Christian Payne gets sent in to throw a block and next thing you know there’s #JazzHands all up in our endzone one last time. Then there’s Wynn raising Chubb to the Heavens next to the Hedges one last time. And God I hope there’s a blindside sack by Bellamy and that beautiful oblong spheroid pops free then Zo scoops and scores that damn thing!

Lord have mercy! How ‘bout them Dawgs y’all! So please let us bow our heads...dear Lord, can we please see a Parrish or Sanders or Davis pick one more time? Maybe also followed by one last glimpse in Sanford of Wims soaring to some ungodly height to catch that ball before returning to the earth with six points? Thank you, and please bless all these Dawgs in their future endeavors. Once a Dawg, always a Dawg. How sweet it is! Amen!

Friday Misery - an abridged history lesson on the Deep South's Oldest Rivalry

A litmus test for whether you, as a Georgia fan, should be worried about Auburn: 1) has their quarterback ever stolen a laptop? No, then 2) has he ever taken teammates cash and valuables from the team lockerroom? No.

Okay. So if Auburn somehow wins tomorrow, we’ll know this Stidham kid is hiding some shit in his dorm room closet.

Then…

It was close to a brotherhood really. I mean, there was no love lost between us. But it’s not like we met in Jacksonville each year to shout our disdain about each others’ mothers and general hygiene habits. We even shared fellow alumni/former players as coaches. Our campuses are one lazy drive away. We didn’t even complain all that much when they used our fight song, and we tolerated their cute yet inferior hedges with a modicum of respect.

And their schizophrenic loyalty to three different mascots at the same time was amusing if not downright...well, yeh it was kinda sad and pathetic even then.

But, there were times they’d beat the Gators and the Volunteers just to show they had our back. We did the same against Bama and LSU more than our fair share.

In 1996 we shared one of the greatest college football games that will ever be. An epic four overtime battle that turned boys into men right before our very eyes. God bless you Corey Allen. And may Robert Baker get a fair shot at his next parole hearing.

It was an experience that helped Georgia fans put the Game Between the Hoses from 1986 behind us on some level. It deepened our bond as fellow SEC compatriots. We drew closer, but always respecting the fact that we would always be on separate sides at least one day out of 365.

Then again. They lost. We won. So maybe that's just how I remember it.

...and now.

Fairley buried the crown of his helmet so deep into the back of our quarterback that we all felt the pain surge through our spines. Then he did it again.

Then yet again.

No flags^*. Of course not. The health and safety of an opposing quarterback shouldn't stand in the way of a plainsman title run pahtnah! And as if the salaciousness of buying players to grab that national championship wasn’t enough, they then resorted to taking Butts-Mehre outcasts and degenerates as their own, shoved them in our face, and essentially told us to get the hell out of town.

Auburn is like that best friend you had all the way through grade school. Until freshman year of high school, when he fell ass first into a Homecoming date with a junior cheerleader because his older sister owed him a favor because of that time Dad took Mom to that three day conference in Columbus and sister threw that party where Johnny Snodgrass got drunk on Bartles and Jaymes and threw up on GramGram’s handmade bedspread and the younger brother didn’t tell a legally responsible soul. After Homecoming he of course developed into a snot-nosed piece of shit that everybody else turned their back on because he somehow always thought he was the Big Man on Campus even though he didn't own a single pair of Nikes, wore a knock-off Members Only jacket from KMart, and ate by himself next to the teachers’ table sophomore, junior, and all of senior year until he walked across the stage of the gym through the jeers and sneers of two hundred and eighty-six other pissed off 18 year olds in cap and gowns (60% of which were also drunk on Bartles and Jaymes wine coolers).

I still hate that guy. Hell, he’s probably at some insurance seminar right now talking some sap’s ear off at the Holiday Inn Express breakfast bar about that one time he had a Homecoming date with Sissy “Two Bits” Kowalchuk and stayed out past 10pm. Asshole.

They drew the line, we’re just here to remind them of how often they have failed to cross it. Because that coach that bought them that natty, yeh, he’s now wearing a rented suit on the SEC Network jabbering like a mental patient that’s on the second of three frontal lobotomies. And their new coach, yeh, Malzahn is the equivalent of the high school kid that stole all the answers to the physics test but then fails the final every year because he can't even spell the word "formula".

Malzahn's glasses are just for show because he thinks it makes him look smart. If you take away his reclaimed 5star former safety he’s just a pink slip away from a job on an Opelika used car lot drinking day old coffee because Starbucks won’t validate his latte anymore.

Okay, let’s break this down for real...they’re central time zone. They’re an hour behind and three chromosomes short of a gene pool. We squeeze the Charmin just like the old commercial asks us to, but they rub it on their genitals and hurl it into trees to celebrate a victory, or just another successful evasion of an NCAA inquiry. We #keepchopping, they #keepdodging FBI investigations. We watch Netflix and chill, they go cow tipping and get ill.

They're plainsmen which is evidently the lovechild of a tiger that beds down with an eagle. We just wanna get after that ass! Go Dawgs and also screw it I’ll pronounce Jordan Hair any damn well I please and thank you very much! Now, bow your heads...Lord, please give Chubb 13 yards and any number of one hundreds he chooses. Also, please protect our traveling fans from their deviant time zone confusery. In the name of Wayne Johnson, Mike Bobo, and UGA V, Amen!!

^*CORRECTION: the Senator provides video evidence of a flag after the third late hit. I would apologize, but I'm not yet ready. Go Dawgs!

the Friday Misery has filed a SAVAGE claim

Last Saturday was not just a win, it was one of those wins that can define a program. We not only got our eighth win of the season, but we set an arch enemy back so far they decided to fire their coach and start over. That's something Tennessee and probably Missouri will do as well after their beat downs at the hands of the our Dawgs.

So look out Muschamp and Malzahn and Stoops, y'all're up!

So with such a colossal win, why haven't I posted any thoughts about it? Why haven't I weighed in this week on the possibility that the Dawgs could clinch the East in Sanford with a win over the Gamecocks paired with a Kentucky loss to Ole Miss?

Well, Derrick, Eddie, Colby and I found a strange way to celebrate the epic win in Jacksonville.

It's hard to type wearing a sling. But the good news is that everyone involved is okay (even the douchschnozzle florida fan that caused the whole mess and got away) and the wife is getting a brand new Porsche. Well, no. Probably not actually. Definitely.

Anyway, I wasn't going to leave y'all high and dry on a day like today. The chickens are coming to town and Kirby has shelved the Revenge Tour until after Thanksgiving. Since the doctor has set a word limit on all my blogging until Monday at the earliest, I hope you don't mind some simple pictures and then maybe a brief commentary/rant. If it doesn't get you quite fired up enough, light a Red candle, say the name "Erk Russell" seven times, then bash your forehead against a frozen chicken until you get a decent enough stream of blood.

Then by all means, shove a beer can up that bird's ass and throw it on the smoker!

"Coach Muschamp, after looking at some film, their third string running back

is just as fast and physical as Sony or Chubb..."

So some dude named Chris Clammons thought florida's defensive strategy of talking smack about Georgia's passing game worked so well that he'd kick it up a notch. "They can't pass." 

Let's take a look at some future footage of him trying to tackle Swift shall we...

Yeh, that worked about as well as it did for the gators.

And lastly, "Coach Spurrier, remind me again how much you enjoyed your last trip to Sanford?"

Speaking of the ol' ball coach, what're the odds he had his résumé on the florida AD's desk by the time the sun set Sunday night?

Who are Gamecocks? What do they do?

You know, except lose. Why are they even here? Why do we need South Carolina? In the 69 previous meetings between the Dawgs and the gamechickens, they’ve managed 18 wins.

Eight. Teen.

You want to know how shitty their football tackling program is? Ray Goff went 3-2 against South Carolina. From those three wins he now deep fries their white meat and sells it to people that’re starving for more triglycerides.

Have you ever been to a game in their off campus stadium that’s in the middle of a fair ground parking lot that smells like toe fungus and three day old half-cooked meat that’s just been left to sit out in the sun? No? Well, don’t. We lost by a field goal in 2014, one of the best games I’ve seen in the series to be honest. Close game, the kind of game where neither team deserved to lose. And yet I learned more lurid things that I didn’t know about my momma walking to my car than three years of therapy has yet to wipe clean.

You see, they’re not just wannabe rednecks, the ones that pretend they know how to hunt so they can justify the over-extended Bass Pro Shops Visa card and awkward camouflage assemble. And they’re not just average dipshits that like to spend Fall Saturdays pretending they went to school past the third grade before they dropped out and took a paper route to help feed daddy’s Busch Light and Marlboro addictions. No, they’re the third generation by-product of all that and a bag of bath salts.

Which happens to be why when you come across a Gamecock fan, you have a 78% chance of having an exchange similar to this:

“Hey buddy, did you walk to school or carry your lunch?”

“I...uh….uh, well, ya see, some days I remember...well...uh, hey! Uh, Hey! Did I say welcome to Zax Bee’s yet?”

“Okay, don't pull a muscle. I’ll just have your yearly desperation plate with an extra slice of toast. And a sweet tea.”

Dawgs - whatever number Kirby wants

Muschamp’s dark meat - 3

Now, please bow your heads...Dear Lord, I thank you for airbags and J.R. Reed. We pray for a total loss on my claim and an even totaler loss for them chickens tomorrow. Sic em on a chicken #Savages, all in the name of Pollack’s double inverse backwards interfumblerception, Amen!

the Friday Misery wants a Standing O!!

Prelude

"Just consider it an ice cold purse Babe. You're
doing great. Go Gators!"

While they mix their vodka and Monster energy drinks, we’ll be pouring some bourbon comfortably over ice. They’ll chase their Four Lokos with Pepsi...or vice versa, I have no idea and does it really matter anyway? They’ll make their girlfriends carry their beer. They’ll be in orange clapping as if their entire arms are encased in cement. We’ll be in red and black, ready for a handshake and a pat on the back. In the immortal words of the Greatest Bulldog ever, Coach Magill, “They are the Florida Philistines.” They are a perfect unnatural blend of rudeness, crassness, and base immorality. They will tailgate at crosswalks, Burger King bags in each hand. Meanwhile, we’ll raise a tent, sit a spell, and commence to sharing stories, such as what our barber said during the off week haircut about Jake Fromm, or what our neighbor heard from a friend of a cousin’s tennis partner that is in the Mary Beth Smart carpool rotation. They’ll dump ice into the cardboard Miller Lite case because a styrofoam cooler is a whole $4.99 at the gas n’ sip where they bought their Skoal bandits and pork rinds. Nearby, your lovely wife will adorn her newest bloody mary with a Phickles Pickles pickled okie.

Despite the overt disparities, everything will seem normal. Relaxed even. As Grizzard quoted a local after the 1980 win, “It’s the annual celebration of the repeal of Prohibition!” Yes, it’ll be good to be back in Jacksonville, our annual Fall, midseason retreat.

Then suddenly, it happens...

Under an overpass, average florida fan in awkwardly short jorts and a Tebow jersey with the sleeves cut off strolls up to a young Georgia fan waiting with his dad to cross the street - “Welcome to florida bitches! Hope you like the taste of our ass later this afternoon! Go gators!!”

The young boy turns to look up at Average Gator Fan Man and responds, “Thank you sir, my dad and I are both sorry that you have to live here in this awful swamp of humidity and bad life choices you call a state. And we hope that one day you’ll manage to save up the $56 so you can finally finish that GED course. Enjoy the game!”

The dad smiles at the jorted one as they cross the street. Meanwhile the florida fan stands stupefied momentarily, then turns to his sister and asks, “What the hell’s a GED?”

Hate is not a strong enough sentiment.

The word itself has too few letters to sufficiently explain the eternal fire that burns inside of us, fueled by years of having to share a stadium with those knuckle dragging, mouth breathing, dim-witted cretins. They are pathological losers, especially when their team wins the game. They are sociological anomalies. Centuries from now anthropologists will be dumbfounded by the gator fan’s lack of class, unwillingness to learn simple tasks (such as grooming or eating with utensils), inability to adapt, ineffectiveness at contributing anything positive to its community, and their otherwise pervasive ability to offend those around them.

A gator fan is what you get when you introduce a WalMart clothing clearance rack with a meth-addled brain. It is sexless. It is devoid of any redeeming value. It is lacking any single quality that would make an ordinary person want to interact with it. It is insolence personified. It is a magnet for immoral behavior thought patterns. The gator fan isn’t the person your mother warned you about because your mother is too nice of a person to even think that such a vile, degenerate douchebag like the gator fan could possibly exist.

I would complain about this gator fan's behavior in front of the young
boy perched on dad's shoulders, but obviously the dad has no qualms.

Cases in point

Exhibit A: Normal person takes their toddler for a photo session after dressing the boy in his Sunday best. Gator fan doesn’t bother to wipe the oreo crumbs from the kid’s mouth, but makes sure the miniature Tebow jersey is straight and the kid’s middle fingers are raised before the photographer snaps the pic.

Exhibit B: Normal person eventually develops past the third grade mentality of teasing everyone about everything. Gator fan sees an elderly lady drop a cantaloupe in the produce section and commences to shouting irreverent and disgusting names at her then grabbing his genitals aggressively and chanting “Go Gator!”

Exhibit C: Normal person needs money for a new laptop so he saves up until he has enough. Gator felon swipes bank cards like they’re apples on a tree and heads to the student union for a spending spree. (Hey Corrinne Brown, that rhymed! Go Gatuh!)

We owe it to our children to prevent the spread of this classless race of sub-humans. Be a good parent, a good neighbor, a good citizen that wants to see advancement and happiness in the community. Don’t let children become gator fans. Again, especially your daughters.

Kirby’s STAND in Jax

Kirby, dude, I’ve bought in. I hear you coach and see you coach and I believe. I’m following your orders. I’m not into national narratives and I don’t give a shit about college football playoff scenarios.

The CFBOMG!! Playoffs are in January. Today is the 27th of October. Tomorrow we have Georgia-Florida, the World’s Largest Outdoor Cocktail Party by God! That’s the only thing on my mind. I don’t care how Notre Dame is doing because I haven’t thought about them since I woke up on September 10th.

You wanted it louder in Sanford and I gave my voice. You wanted a work week and I haven’t pressed snooze once. The focus is one day, one rep, one play, one drill at a time. You want to accomplish a goal it must be earned through preparation and dedication.

The next step towards that end is to beat the Florida Gators. The fog that envelops this game for Georgia is heavy. There’s always something - dropped passes, weird cold fronts, missed tackles, bad bounces. For the better part of the last three decades in Jacksonville, success has been few and far between. Netflix could devote an entire season of Stranger Things to Georgia’s experiences in Jacksonville Florida.

It needs to end Kirby. It needs to end tomorrow.

The sporadic victories that we had in the Donnan and Richt eras weren’t big enough to change the tide of the series. 1997 was sweet, sweet revenge for years of taking Spurrier’s jabs. But 1998 just reminded us that our cocktail is rarely shaken nor stirred. 2005 should’ve been Urban’s first taste of defeat in the series, but propped up by crutches, Shockley could only watch his team lose a heartbreaker. As incredible as 2007 was, 2008 was a complete kick in the crotch, followed by an endless chorus of “F--- YOU GEORGIA!!” as we rode the escalators down...down...down.

Famed fraternity mediator Ron Zook left Florida with a 2-1 record in the WLOCP. Famed shark humper Jim McIlwain is 2-0 thus far. A 10 point underdog in 2014, famed sideline Hulk impressionist William Muschamp started a freshman at quarterback and the gators racked up 428 yards on the ground in route to a 38-20 upset.

DickSamIV...crusher of gator will to compete

Kirby, I say all that to illustrate how tired we are of playing second fiddle down there. What is your stamp on this series going to be? Are we one day away from putting an epic beat down on these swamp lizards, or just another chance at coming up with more excuses as to why we can’t win this game more often.

Your team has plowed through the likes of Tennessee, Vanderbilt, and Missouri. Hell, you probably put the nail in the coffins that are the Jones and Odom tenures experiements at their respective schools. McIlwain needs to spend the fourth quarter scratching his head. We need to walk into Everbank tomorrow with the better prepared team, the one that is more focused and determined. They spent the week talking the talk. We need to walk out of there having walked the walk.

We need this win tomorrow. Not just for you. Not just for me. Not just for this season or the next. We need it for mankind. And when you ask those guys in the post-game locker room to stand up if they’ve beaten florida, we want a STANDING OVATION!

Now, please bow your heads...dear Lord Baby Jesus, please clear all lane closures on I-95 so we can zip down there and zip right back out after Wynn raises Chubb in the air after his 7th touchdown. And please don’t let those lizards slip no roofies in our cocktail. In the name of Nat Hudson, Lindsey Scott, Robert Edwards, and of course Lewis Grizzard and his ol’ pal Dorsey Hill, Amen!

Go Dawgs!

Friday Misery - pranky and cranky

Is your refrigerator running?

On this episode of "Irascible Midwesterners"...
"Hello, this is Coach Odom returning your call."

"Oh, thanks Barry. My name is Bernie and I just have a few questions."

"It's Coach Odom, or just Coach. Shoot."

"Cool, I was wondering if you'd like to contribute a post to my blog here. Maybe something more in your wheelhouse than college football head coaching. More along the lines of fishing, or word puzzles, or..."

"What? What the hell are you talking about?"

"Well, head coaching didn't turn out well for you. I just thought a fresh start into something new could potentially benefit both of us." 

"But I'm still the head co..."

"What are some of your non-football related hobbies? Because I definitely don't need you to write about football related things. Like, at all!"

"Is this some kind of joke?"

"Oh, comedy. That'd be great Barry! I'm thinking Monday morning for that one. People need a pick me up on Mondays. What else?"

"Seriously, I'm trying to prepare for Geor..."

"What about resume building or interviewing skills. I mean, you really pulled the wool over former Missouri AD Mack Rhoades' eyes! That's something both useful and comical for my Reader."

"What'd you say your name is again?"

"Bernie. You once recruited me as a linebacker. Even though I'm closer to my next colonoscopy than I am a sub 7.0 forty time. Oh! That's an idea, readers love recruiting tales. You got any stories of Pinkel sharing a box of chardonnay with Chase Daniel's mom?"

"This is bullshit! I'm hanging up. The team's out there stretching and I've got a practice to run!"

"Wait, you're still the Missouri head coach?!!?"

--CLICK --


Bye week appetizer
I can kinda relate to how Barry feels. What a week. Monday kicked me in the <clown noises>, and then Tuesday held me up so both Wednesday and Thursday could take turns poking me in the <more clown noises>. If Kirby's taking orders I'll have another divisional opponent blow out and a gator loss chaser please!

To make matters more confusing, nothing about these tigers scare me...and that scares me. I think I've listened to too many people that have us rolling through the rest of the schedule like a 24lb bowling ball, slipping some Rat-X into Saban's Dasani, and then dancing into the second week of January.

That just sets us up to get punk slapped.

But not this week. I think they take some deep shots early. And Lock may even connect for a cheap score before Tucker's Savages expose them for the one-dimensional-deadbeat-offense that they are. Plus, their defense is not just trash, it's a landfill of Harvey Weinstein "pick up" lines. It's a trailer park casserole filled with possum parts and topped with two month old government cheddar. Chaney can name his number and I hope his goes higher than his waistline.

Georgia ensured one coach of a pink slip on Rocky Top a couple weeks ago. Tomorrow night in Sanford they ensure Odom's as well. The only thing left to bet on is if Barry mentions me in the post-game presser.

Now, remove your hats and please bow your head...Dear God in Heaven, please help our most naive fans steer clear of click bait and realize that the season is played in actual games and not in digital print. And help Tucker make Drew Lock a lock to sit on the bench during a fourth quarter blow out. Go Dawgs and Amen!

- - - - - - - - - - - - -

UPDATE
Since I came within two meaningless Vandy touchdowns last week of nailing the final score, it only seems fitting that I take a stab at this one:

GEORGIA - 55
missouri - 7

the Friday Misery is a Champion at Comeuppance

About last night...

Seriously, we’re gonna run them mountain goat humpers ragged Saturday. They’ll eventually make a 30 for 30 about it. Go Dawgs!

— Bernie (@BernieDawg) September 29, 2017

Bank on it.

Butch’s temperature, a week to week examination

Week 1, visit to Athletic Director’s office

Butch - “Wahoo! You like that goal line stand in OT BABY!!”

AD Currie - “Wonderful. Now put that damn trash can back in the locker room. Coach football, not future internet memes you sonofabitch.”

Week 2, luncheon with boosters

Butch - “Put that whoopin’ on Indiana State boy! Offense starting to come together. I like this kid Dormady. Think I might make a poster of him...Stormin’ the Beaches of Dormady. Nice!”

Booster Cleetus - “No you’re not.”

Booster Bobby Jo - “Boy, you gotta purty mouth. Reminds me of ma best goat”

Week 3, family dinner table

Butch - “That was one heckuva throw. Can’t believe we lost that one like that. Hate it for my guys.”

Wife - “Yeh, into single coverage, on the last play of the game, 60 yards from the endzone. Duh!” (tops glass off with the boxed wine and storms down hallway)

Son 1 - “And that was a BAD gator team Dad, real bad.”

Son 2 - “Can we live in Florida next year and not Michigan or Ohio again?”

Son 3 - “Pass the tater tots please.”

Week 4, getting that wannabe high and tight

Butch - “I tell ya, that’s about the best 0-4 team I’ve ever coached against. Wow!”

Barber - “What about those smokey gray uniforms again? And a pregame speech about flashlights making the dark spots shine bright!”

Butch - “Oh, yeh. I like that! And the batteries are like the energy that makes it all happen!”

(Mystery solved. It’s been the barber all along, from the bricks through the trashcan. He’s got clippers in one hand and a copy of “Coaching Motivationals for Dummies” in the other.)

Week 5, back in Currie’s office

Butch - “KnockKnock! Hey there John, I brought the trashcan like you asked. I was wonderin…”

Currie - “Good, close the door.”

The buzz cut from La Mancha

Don Quixote was a fictional dreamer; a romantic Spanish gentleman, in pasteboard armor and saddled on a horse well past its prime, driven to insanity by his relentless pursuit of Chivalry.

Butch Jones is an actual professional cheerleader; paid handsomely as a college football coach to drum up motivational slogans and tactics in a continuous failing pursuit of an SEC East crown.

"I DON'KNO WUHT A QUIXOTE IS!! SOME
FRANCH SPELLIN' FOR COYOTE?!!??"

For both, the beginning is whimsical and delightful. Knoxville, much like the Spanish countryside of the 1600s, was a blank canvas in 2013 and in much need of a new spark and direction. Enter Jones who quickly proclaims himself a master mason proficient in the use of words and catchphrases as bonding agents.

The results are mixed. I’m sure Spanish prostitutes didn’t mind being referred to as high class ladies and the innkeepers enjoyed being “lords of the castle”, but when windmills are envisioned as monstrous,murderous giants things take a dark turn.

Besting Georgia two seasons in a row and ending Florida’s 11 year win streak really put Tennessee’s future in a rosy hue. But the epic tumble the Vols experienced the rest of the 2016 season was a dramatic, painful adventure on Rocky Top, as if Rocinante itself had thrown Butch from the saddle into his own pile of bricks.

But here’s where the romantic cheerleader takes a different path from Cervantes’ star gazing Hidalgo. Quixote never parts ways with his “squire”, Sancho Panza. They’re relationship is as loyal as it is symbiotic. Jones on the other hand fires assistants, thereby uprooting their families, in order to continue his ponzi scheme of slogans. After the 2015 season it was defensive coordinator John Jancek, and after last season it was newly hired offensive coordinator Mike DeBord. What started out as a whimsical play with words has devolved into a bloody battle of stab the scapegoat in the back.

Perhaps Cervantes himself said it best: “The truth may be stretched thin, but it never breaks, and it always surfaces above lies, as oil floats on water.” Butch, you’ve run out of heads to lop off and your trashcan is full of broken bricks. Perhaps your barber can provide some sound investment advice for that buyout.

Down to the business of kicking ass

Ladies and gentlemen, though we have more than one enemy tomorrow, only one of them is truly formidable. And no, it doesn’t wear orange and it doesn’t play football.

Hear me out now.

Understand, Tennessee can’t beat us. They just can’t. They are one thread away from becoming completely unraveled. They’re the trash at the bottom of the bin. They’re soon to be has beens being cheered on by low lifes in checkerboard overalls and fancy pants frat boys with a funnel protruding from their nether regions. That’s all they are. They just aren’t able to beat us.

UMass exposed them for what they are, they just lacked the talent and ability to finish the job. Georgia comes out tomorrow and smacks them in the mouth and they’ll crumble into a pile of rubble at their false prophet’s feet.

However, if not taken seriously, our true enemy can absolutely be formidable. She can turn the most prepared and talented team into an on field three ring circus. Her name is Adversity and she planted the Neyland sod that claimed three ACLs in 2013 and Chubb’s entire knee in 2015.

She connives for missed blocking assignments. Next thing you know your quarterback just got blind-sided and the ball is scooped up and headed the other damn direction.

Adversity gives birth to setbacks. And setbacks don’t treat Georgia well. They tend to make a better Georgia team fall flat at a lesser opponent’s feet. They get into our heads and scramble things up until the next thing you know that squib kick turned into a game tying field goal and oops they just intercepted and somehow we just lost to georgia tech.

So tomorrow, when JimBob Cooter drops a stack of cash in a referee’s pocket and Chubb gets flagged for roughing the passer because he ran out of bounds and tripped over Dormady’s out-stretched cleat, we have to stare back at Adversity with a steely gaze.

“You messing with the wrong mothereffer today bitch.”

Kirby has filled us with hope. We believe we’re past the days of wetting the proverbial bed and making up excuses for our own inadequacies. Maybe so. But we’re right where Missy State fans were this time last week. And those doggies got walloped from the get-go and never bothered to get back up into the fray.

So when She swings and connects, don’t reach up to wipe the blood from your mouth. Smile at Her and tell her what Damien and Greenie and McMichael and Verron told her before that last drive in ‘02 - “Nice shot, but you’re gonna need more than that today.”

It’s a long road through a college football season. Knoxville is just the next stop. Let’s treat it like a business trip. And like it says right there on our business card,

Georgia Football

“We’re here to make your life even more of a living hell.”

Four dissatisfied customers from Starkville to South Bend.

You’re next!

Through our own faults, we’ve fallen victim to this Hillbilly regime’s magic and sheer dumb luck before. Still today, two years removed, they mock our best player’s injury, like some dipshit point of pride that they can’t use fertilizer for anything other than their own goat farming. For that and many other reasons they need their comeuppance. They’re overdue for a good ass whoopin’. Set your jaw and turn your motor all the way to HIGH.

Now, please bow your heads...dear Lord, Herschel’s angels, Mr. Grizzard and the late, great Munson, please keep their Franzia Frat boys away from our Dawg brethren tomorrow. Let Chubb run free and Roquan run amok! Thank you please, Amen.