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Year of the Dawg at hand, folks
By Justin Raines Staff Writer
Well folks, Tales from a Wyoming Elk Hunting Camp Part Three: Legend of the Fried Moose Heart, will have to wait. There is more pressing business at hand.
Yes, it's that time again. The Georgia-Florida game is finally here. Gators fans everywhere are breaking out the scissors to cut off their favorite blue jeans just above the knee. Soon they will be filling the streets of Jacksonville, smacking their arms together in spastic, chomping motions.
I usually make the pilgrimage to St. Simons Island for a visit with my hometown friends before the game. This year, however, the gasoline fairy skipped my house, and it seems that I will be watching the game from a heavily guarded Bulldog stronghold high upon Tiger Mountain.
It's a strange thing to be in Northeast Georgia surrounded by appalling blue and orange flags. When living on the coast, it was fairly common to see Florida paraphernalia. St. Simons is a border land not quite an hour from hostile territory, so it was somewhat expected to encounter enemy troops.
But these are the Georgia mountains! What's with all the Gators fans here? Many of my neighbors fly Florida banners as if this was Key Largo or West Palm Beach. Folks, this is still Bulldog country, and I feel it's my duty as a Dawgs fan to let my bark be heard.
Now don't take this gripe too seriously. I love my brothers and sisters to the south. When it really comes down to it, any friend of the Southeastern Conference is a friend of mine. Just so long as they don't howl about Kansas or Ohio State, I can usually stand even the most obnoxious of fans except on that special weekend in late October. This Saturday, the gloves are coming off.
Recently, I have become the proud owner of a top-notch home entertainment center that has the power to shake leaves off the trees in my neighborhood. Saturday, I think I'll obtain a copy of Larry Munson's greatest calls or a recording of the University of Georgia Redcoat Band and crank the volume to its maximum. Yes! Let's see how they like it when “Battle Hymn of the Bulldog Nation” comes rocking down the mountain.
Perhaps I'll put a call into my local meat dealer and order up a little 'gator tail. Mmmm ... lightly battered and seasoned with cayenne and Old Bay, then deep fried in some good ole' Georgia lard. I'll let the spicy fumes rise proudly from the skillet, flooding the forest with sweet smells of cooking alligator. That should get things started on the right foot.
If anyone gives me any lip, I'll be forced to put my dog on them. He's not vicious, but I am developing a type of scented mist that smells like tennis balls. Once sprayed, the perpetrator will be pursued constantly by my retriever until either surrendering or donning my extra game jersey, thereby swearing allegiance to the Dawgs.
Beware anyone who tries to encroach upon my compound this weekend. You will be forced to recite at least the first four lines of the UGA alma mater before entry. Those who bleed red and black will be welcomed with a heaping pile of my locally famous pulled pork shoulder. Impostors will be doused with tennis ball mist while fighting off the nips of an eager Labrador puppy.
Like a wayward term paper, the only thing to do with a ramble of this magnitude is grab the thesis by the tail and wrangle the whole thing around full circle.
Yes, I'm a little bitter that I won't be able to attend the festivities in J-Ville this year, but that won't stop me from firing up the bonfire and raising a cup of cheer to all the Gators fans around me. You may have me surrounded, even here in north Georgia, but if I read my Chinese place mat correctly then 2007 is the year of the Dawgs! Or maybe, it's the year of the rat, but it certainly is not the year of the alligator. Get ready Dawgs fans! Revenge is at hand!
Yes, it's that time again. The Georgia-Florida game is finally here. Gators fans everywhere are breaking out the scissors to cut off their favorite blue jeans just above the knee. Soon they will be filling the streets of Jacksonville, smacking their arms together in spastic, chomping motions.
I usually make the pilgrimage to St. Simons Island for a visit with my hometown friends before the game. This year, however, the gasoline fairy skipped my house, and it seems that I will be watching the game from a heavily guarded Bulldog stronghold high upon Tiger Mountain.
It's a strange thing to be in Northeast Georgia surrounded by appalling blue and orange flags. When living on the coast, it was fairly common to see Florida paraphernalia. St. Simons is a border land not quite an hour from hostile territory, so it was somewhat expected to encounter enemy troops.
But these are the Georgia mountains! What's with all the Gators fans here? Many of my neighbors fly Florida banners as if this was Key Largo or West Palm Beach. Folks, this is still Bulldog country, and I feel it's my duty as a Dawgs fan to let my bark be heard.
Now don't take this gripe too seriously. I love my brothers and sisters to the south. When it really comes down to it, any friend of the Southeastern Conference is a friend of mine. Just so long as they don't howl about Kansas or Ohio State, I can usually stand even the most obnoxious of fans except on that special weekend in late October. This Saturday, the gloves are coming off.
Recently, I have become the proud owner of a top-notch home entertainment center that has the power to shake leaves off the trees in my neighborhood. Saturday, I think I'll obtain a copy of Larry Munson's greatest calls or a recording of the University of Georgia Redcoat Band and crank the volume to its maximum. Yes! Let's see how they like it when “Battle Hymn of the Bulldog Nation” comes rocking down the mountain.
Perhaps I'll put a call into my local meat dealer and order up a little 'gator tail. Mmmm ... lightly battered and seasoned with cayenne and Old Bay, then deep fried in some good ole' Georgia lard. I'll let the spicy fumes rise proudly from the skillet, flooding the forest with sweet smells of cooking alligator. That should get things started on the right foot.
If anyone gives me any lip, I'll be forced to put my dog on them. He's not vicious, but I am developing a type of scented mist that smells like tennis balls. Once sprayed, the perpetrator will be pursued constantly by my retriever until either surrendering or donning my extra game jersey, thereby swearing allegiance to the Dawgs.
Beware anyone who tries to encroach upon my compound this weekend. You will be forced to recite at least the first four lines of the UGA alma mater before entry. Those who bleed red and black will be welcomed with a heaping pile of my locally famous pulled pork shoulder. Impostors will be doused with tennis ball mist while fighting off the nips of an eager Labrador puppy.
Like a wayward term paper, the only thing to do with a ramble of this magnitude is grab the thesis by the tail and wrangle the whole thing around full circle.
Yes, I'm a little bitter that I won't be able to attend the festivities in J-Ville this year, but that won't stop me from firing up the bonfire and raising a cup of cheer to all the Gators fans around me. You may have me surrounded, even here in north Georgia, but if I read my Chinese place mat correctly then 2007 is the year of the Dawgs! Or maybe, it's the year of the rat, but it certainly is not the year of the alligator. Get ready Dawgs fans! Revenge is at hand!
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| RCMS football finishes at 4-3 |
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