Yd1, another fantastic post – FUN to read on my Friday mornings! You have inspired me to post my own story. I’ve been staying away on purpose – I’ll post why sooner or later, but for now:
My “affiliation” with the BullDAWG Nation began shortly after birth. I was born in Tifton, Georgia, and my dad got a job with the university shortly thereafter and we moved to Athens in ’63. My first recollection of my status as a bullpup was probably sometime in 1968, but it really comes only in images and, oddly, smells.
Young football fans of today have no way of understanding why the scent of a game day in Athens would be such a strong memory. I’ve been to a few games in recent years and the old familiar odors have long since gone away. But my memory is pretty sharp, and I can tell you that newly cut bermudagrass has a smell that mingles PERFECTLY with cigars, cigarettes and pipes. I tell you, second hand smoke, at least in moderation, is GOOD for you. Throw in spilled Coca-Cola, rum, whiskey, coffee, bourbon and God only knows what other variations on the ethanol molecule, and you begin to take yourself back in time. Second hand alcohol, even for a child, is even BETTER for you – for your SOUL! Now imagine the popcorn and peanuts on top of all that, and by golly, we are sitting on the 35 yard line of the south side, almost under the overhang, and off to my right sits the railroad tracks and a bunch of flag poles and banners and drunks – I’m about to get choked up! Step in that goo that makes ¾ of that smell and feel how it sticks uniquely to the soles of one’s shoes, and feel it ticking on the cement long after you have parted company, and that dark blue sky and the flaming orange leaves and the cool but not cold breeze and the cokes with too much syrup – just right – and the ice that’s just ground to the right size for crunching while you sip the watered down soda remains. Oh man, I’m home sick.
There’s Jimmy Poulos, Ricky Lake, Glynn Harrison (was there ever a slipperier back born?), Andy Johnson, and others taking warm ups on the east end – young men who actually played football while attending school, as opposed to the other way around like it seems to be now. The good ole days were truly better, honestly.
I remember a day when if my team lost a game I still believed we had the best football team on earth, no matter what. Criticize the coaching staff? I’d just as soon cuss in church. When Nebraska whipped us back in ’71, I wrote it off to them just getting lucky that day. We tied somebody in some minor bowl, like the Peach, or something like that, and it hurt worse than getting killed by the CornHuskers. I hated ties worse than losses, because it just seemed like such a wasted effort. Pepper Rogers in ’74 was probably one of my worst memories ever. We got RAKED on a miserable day in November. Rain can’t get any colder and still be water. Crowds can’t pack any tighter under the overhang. Grown people can’t behave more like idiots around a 12 year old kid. And a football team can’t wet its pants much wetter than we did that day. Unless you wait 5 years and play Virginia at home, and are heavily favored and lose 31 to nothing. That pretty much makes for a worse time. But as much as absolutely NOBODY will admit it today, because sportsmanship is dead and gone, losing makes you better, as long as you don’t let it become a habit, like Vanderbilt. I’m a better man because my team lost a few times.
But boy, think about the WINS! Remember when the shoe-string play WORKED?! That was AWESOME! Remember Richard Appleby to Gene Washington?! Those girders BENT! And I screamed louder than I ever have in my life! Remember Herschel Walker running over Bill Bates? My Gawd, he’s just a FRESHMAN (so was I, and about 70 pound lighter)! I remember Buck Belue on fourth down, taking the ball to his right, watching the corner AND the safety come up to play him because we ran the ball about 99.999999% of the time, and I started yelling “touchdown” LONG before anyone in the stadium – I’m not kidding – because I saw Anthony Arnold slip behind the entire Tech defense and was jogging back there ALL ALONE, and Belue tossed that rainbow of a pass over their heads and you could see their jock straps hit their ankles when they realized what had just happened – but we were still down by one point. And I remember watching that option left, when their defensive end played it exactly the way you are supposed to, but so did Belue, and he tossed that ball JUST before his knees hit the ground and the ref threw his hands over his head.
Lewis Grizzard actually wrote that it should have been a TIE, dammit! He just didn’t think anyone should have lost that game. Shows you that maybe he wasn’t as much of a DAWG as you might have guessed. Tie my @ss.
In September of 1986 I got in my car while my mom stood there watching – being strong – and put it in reverse. I took one last glance down the driveway and waved as I turned south, towards Pensacola and the United States Navy and my Marine Corps Drill Instructor (aka Dr. Discipline). Athens had become more than a place – it was and still is ME. I don’t just love Athens, I AM Athens. Milledge, Baxter, Broad, College Station, and blessed Barnett Shoals. The arches, the “little” Varsity, old-long-gone Stegman Hall, where I swam mile after mile after mile for Cedar Shoals. It’s all here with me, wherever I go. Florida, Texas, Atlanta, Florida again, Ohio (hellish Ohio), Georgia again, Tennessee, and Georgia (I’ll never leave now, Acworth). But I will never get back there. There are just no jobs in Athens for a 50 year old agronomist. So I play the lottery (yes, it’s stupid, but I do it for this reason) every week, in the hopes that I won’t HAVE to wait for a job that will never be there. If I win it, I’ll see you walking Georgia around town.
God bless you, yd1! Have a GREAT weekend!