Better Than Biscuits

Tonight I remembered Kathy Freemayer.

Kathy was a beauty, not in the classic sense but pretty in the way all southern girls are pretty. She was blonde, green-eyed, and what she lacked in height she more than made up for in the length of her curves.

She enraptured me, and my hormones focused my goal into a single-minded purpose that Kathy had to be mine. My friends cautioned me that she was beyond my reach. Her friends saw my every mistake and misdeed as testament to my position as a misfit. Then there were my own quirks, like the habit I had of going from an over-confident world-beater to a slobbering, slack-jawed yokel each time I spoke to Kathy.

But, I persisted in my efforts. My loins would allow me no other option.

At first, it was just a movie, then dinner and a movie; sometimes, (whoa, Nelly) a movie at her apartment, but always at arms' length.

What was wrong with me, I began to wonder. I was a good-looking kid, hours at the IronDawg gym had me in darned good shape, and I was smart enough to get into Georgia. What more could a girl want?

I tell you, there was no shortage of times I felt like giving up on her, to write her off as a lost cause, summed up in the frequent admonishments of my roommate, Larry: \"It ain't going to happen, bud.\"

A veil thinner than a Chi Omega nightie, however, separates a young man’s dreams and reality, and so I pressed on.

For some reason, she liked the Odyssey, and it turned into our weekend retreat from study and responsibility. Stranger still, she was immune to me no matter how many nickel drinks I poured into her beautiful mouth. I should have known better; the girl was from Jefferson County, and those girls can drink.

One night, Kathy kissed me when I picked her up--just a peck, and me, the eternal cynic, figured it was just another of her games. I liked her games. I liked the role of the loser to her. Of course, a gentleman never kisses and tells, but I will tell you this. When the night was over, I was sweaty, spent, and left with a grin that stuck with me for a month.

It was sweeter than momma's tea. Better than biscuits.

Tonight I turned on the small television at work because, unfortunately, I couldn't get off for the biggest game of the year. When the score for the Georgia Florida game flashed across the screen, I couldn't believe my eyes.

My pulse raced, my face flushed, and I began sweating, not the sweat of a man hard at work, however; no, this was the sweat that comes from a labor of love. Much like the sweat that Kathy left me covered in, that night back in '85.

As I said, a gentleman never kisses and tells but now I'm dancing in giddy circles, spent from the release of sweet victory.

The Dawgs beat the Gators and it feels like the first time with Kathy Freemayer.

It's something a Dawg fan would understand.

GO DAWGS!!!

Know the feelin'......