Yeah, we've become the golden retriever of football. Warm, cuddly, but not much of a threat.
I like to think of life as a giant herd of Wildebeest. The strong Wildebeest lead the herd to greener pastures (national championships.) Hell, even a moderately healthy wildebeest knows enough to mill around in the middle of the pack and learn from the Alphas so that one day, perhaps, he'll get to lead the herd to greener pastures (national championships.)
Then there are the gimpy wildebeest who exist at the edge of the herd. These poor animals don't have the chutzpah to make it into the herd, and are too comfortable being on the fringe of greatness to make the extra effort required to get there. These are nice wildebeest, friendly wildebeest. These wildebeest are the ones that annually get picked of by lions and alligators (and gamecocks, apparently).
These are Mark Richt's wildebeest. Or, perhaps, bewildered beasts, but I've already carried the metaphor far enough.
"The freedom of individuals to verbally to oppose or to challenge police actions without thereby risking arrest is one of the principal characteristics by which we distinguish a free nation from a police state."