It's not just a game.
If you think it is- you can stop here. I'll save you the time. But if you know it's more than a game, keep reading. If you've loved the Dawgs the whole of your life, you can keep reading too. If you spent 4 amazing years at the University of Georgia, keep reading. If you can remember your parents cheering on the Dawgs while listening to the game on the radio, you should keep reading. If you can recite Buck Belue to Lindsay Scott without missing a single word, keep reading. If you've ever named the family dog Munson or Dooley, keep reading. Because, if any or all of the previous describe you, you my friends, are Damn Good Dawgs. Ain't a one of y'all just woke up one day and decided you thought it'd be cool to be a fan, bought you a sweatshirt and then became a loudmouth. Not that there's a thing wrong with the Bama fans that do that kinda thing. Bless ya heart y'all are still good Christians. But I don't trust y'all. Y'all are like those folks that make pimento cheese with pre-grated cheddar. It's perfectly legal but that don't make it right. I love you, but I'm still givin' you the side eye and I ain't turnin' my back to you.
There are many ways red and black gets in your blood. I was only five when the Dawgs won their last national championship. I've been told tales about it but I cannot remember it. I do remember losing to Penn State in 1982. I was 7 then and my Daddy won't even say the words "Penn State" even today. My daddy graduated from Georgia. My mama has two degrees from Georgia, as do I. My husband has 2 Georgia degrees. My brother has one. My aunts have several. My daddy's cousins have a few too. So even if I hadn't gone to Georgia, there's still no way I could be anything but a Dawg, just from good righteous raising. The good book says train up a child in the way he should go. Mine did. So many good rabid Dawgs were made this way. If you have righteous raising and you've strayed, come on home, sugar. Take that Bama sweatshirt to the Goodwill and come on home. We'll be happy and your mama will be proud.
There were some lean years in Athens when I was a teenager. Growing up in northeast Georgia, I wasn't a rebellious kid but I'd sometimes mention going to Georgia Tech or Clemson just to get a rise out of my parents. Some teenagers drink too much and some drive too fast. I just threatened to go to college in Atlanta. I was a student at Georgia from 1993-1997. There wasn't much to cheer about through Goff and Donnan and although it dampened our spirits, it never dampened the loyalty of the faithful. In 1995, when Kirby Smart was a Dawg himself, who'd have thought he'd be the one to lead us to the gates of the promised land a little over 20 years later? Throughout those 4 years, it wasn't the football team that made me fall hopelessly in love with Georgia. It was meeting my future husband in Aderhold Hall. It was a thoroughbred named Cashew that threw me off his back more than once but taught me a lot about getting up, dusting off, and getting back on. It was the way downtown glistened on cold nights. It was Milledge Avenue in the spring. It was Guthrie's chicken tenders, the chapel bell, Hodgson's ice cream, and Cooper's fishbowls (don't worry Daddy I only HEARD about those. I never ever witnessed it personally). It was professors I still stay in touch with today, and friends I now count as family. It was North Campus grass and a blanket in the fall (even to an Ag girl from South Campus). It was a crappy Russell Hall dorm room with my elementary school best friend counting change to see if we could order the "good" pizza. It was that same friend flinging open the door to our dorm room and yelling "there's a nutjob preacher at Tate! Let's go watch!" It was Arooj from Pakistan who loved JFK, Jr., Rebecca who prayed all the time (probably for the rest of us) and Rhonda, the yankee softball pitcher from New Jersey. We were quite an interesting mix of Soule Hall sisters back then. Blessed just seems too simple a word.
So when the Dawgs take the field tomorrow, there's a lot more than a football team tied up in that G on the helmet. Whether you went to school there, it was bred into you, or a wicked combination of both, you know it's not just a game. Athens is not just a town. Georgia is NOT just a University and whether we win or lose, I love the Dawgs. I do. I love them. I love the University of Georgia and ain't no "Roll Tide" from any big mouthed bandwagon Bama fan ever gonna change that.
Y'all pray for my mama. She's in the hospital recovering from a terrible stomach virus. She asked the doctor this morning if he could have her home by kickoff tomorrow. Clearly, a Damn Good Dawg. Clearly NOT just a game. Glory, GLORY, to Ol' Georgia.
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