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Game hen surprise, drool bib for Lou
By Justin Raines
Four rock Cornish game hens stuffed with spiced rice and andouille sausage will roast until rich juices sizzle clear from the thigh joints. That's when you know they are done.
Each hen will represent one quarter of revenge and punishment rained down upon Columbia's scraggly, worm-ridden turf by Knowshon and the Dawgs.
The lucky hens will inspire a beating yet unseen in the 2008 college football season. It will be a stomping so great, so convincing that even Lee Corso and the rest of ESPN's ragtag band of Dawg-hating announcers will have to take notice of Georgia's unmerciful dominance. Lou Holtz will be forced to wear a drool bib for the rest of the season, driven into a fit of hives and tremors anytime a Georgia highlight is played.
Then, late in the game when the South Carolina coaching staff is too flustered to take notice, my spies in the stands will blow an ultrasonic whistle undetectable by human ears. The only beast able to hear the high-pitched squeal will be Uga. He'll be riled into a teeth-gnashing, slobbering rage before charging across the field and grabbing Spurrier's visor, long soaked in the sweat of defeat, before tearing it to shreds in front of a ravenous Georgia crowd!
Ahh ... such wild visions here at the sports desk this morning. My hatred for the Gamecocks is reaching a volatile peak. I remember last year's horror, watching the Dawgs crumble under the stinking weight of a thousand yellow penalty flags. Some of you might remember the infamous squirrel ju-ju, resulting from an errant shot made by a friend with a BB gun while we were watching the game in Spartanburg. I'll never forget the midnight Cocks fan who committed criminal trespass just to flip my friend's concrete Uga statue backside-up in the shrubs.
Well, I'm here to tell you friends, the ju-ju has long been reversed, and Saturday's game looks to be an epic battle between enemies both bent on revenge. South Carolina will hope to redeem a stinging loss to Vanderbilt for the second season in a row. The Dawgs take the first big bite of a meaty schedule unparalleled by any other team in the nation. I think Coach Richt may have some special plans for the Cocks this time around. I'm not talking black jerseys yet, but keep an eye out for a little razzle dazzle and maybe even some blood on the grass.
Meanwhile, I'll be watching the first televised game of the season on the couch with my dog. Between plays, my stereo will blast the mournful, joyful slide guitar of brother Duane and The Allman Brothers Band playing Live at the Fillmore East. The air will be filled with scents of roasted game hens, and each time I think of Lou Holtz badmouthing Georgia football, my mind will drift toward visions of drool bibs covered in crumbs of humble pie.
Dawgs fans of Rabun, let's get fired up. We've been waiting all winter for this weekend, and now it's time to relish each visor-tossing minute. It's time to let the big Dawg eat!
Justin Raines is a sports writer for The Clayton Tribune.
Each hen will represent one quarter of revenge and punishment rained down upon Columbia's scraggly, worm-ridden turf by Knowshon and the Dawgs.
The lucky hens will inspire a beating yet unseen in the 2008 college football season. It will be a stomping so great, so convincing that even Lee Corso and the rest of ESPN's ragtag band of Dawg-hating announcers will have to take notice of Georgia's unmerciful dominance. Lou Holtz will be forced to wear a drool bib for the rest of the season, driven into a fit of hives and tremors anytime a Georgia highlight is played.
Then, late in the game when the South Carolina coaching staff is too flustered to take notice, my spies in the stands will blow an ultrasonic whistle undetectable by human ears. The only beast able to hear the high-pitched squeal will be Uga. He'll be riled into a teeth-gnashing, slobbering rage before charging across the field and grabbing Spurrier's visor, long soaked in the sweat of defeat, before tearing it to shreds in front of a ravenous Georgia crowd!
Ahh ... such wild visions here at the sports desk this morning. My hatred for the Gamecocks is reaching a volatile peak. I remember last year's horror, watching the Dawgs crumble under the stinking weight of a thousand yellow penalty flags. Some of you might remember the infamous squirrel ju-ju, resulting from an errant shot made by a friend with a BB gun while we were watching the game in Spartanburg. I'll never forget the midnight Cocks fan who committed criminal trespass just to flip my friend's concrete Uga statue backside-up in the shrubs.
Well, I'm here to tell you friends, the ju-ju has long been reversed, and Saturday's game looks to be an epic battle between enemies both bent on revenge. South Carolina will hope to redeem a stinging loss to Vanderbilt for the second season in a row. The Dawgs take the first big bite of a meaty schedule unparalleled by any other team in the nation. I think Coach Richt may have some special plans for the Cocks this time around. I'm not talking black jerseys yet, but keep an eye out for a little razzle dazzle and maybe even some blood on the grass.
Meanwhile, I'll be watching the first televised game of the season on the couch with my dog. Between plays, my stereo will blast the mournful, joyful slide guitar of brother Duane and The Allman Brothers Band playing Live at the Fillmore East. The air will be filled with scents of roasted game hens, and each time I think of Lou Holtz badmouthing Georgia football, my mind will drift toward visions of drool bibs covered in crumbs of humble pie.
Dawgs fans of Rabun, let's get fired up. We've been waiting all winter for this weekend, and now it's time to relish each visor-tossing minute. It's time to let the big Dawg eat!
Justin Raines is a sports writer for The Clayton Tribune.
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The following are comments from the readers. In no way do they represent the view of theclaytontribune.com.
Ron wrote on Sep 11, 2008 3:46 PM: