No. 12 - Bulldawg Illustrated XII: UGA vs. Boise State, 9/3/11
Seersucker, DragonCon, and the Woodshead
Last Friday, I was laboriously plugging away on the 23rd floor—crunching numbers in the confines of a skyscraper, dreaming about the Dawgs—when an old friend called to grab lunch (he was picking up tickets at The Tabernacle to dodge the Ticketmaster fees… good for him). So I took a stroll down Peachtree and met him for a burger and onion rings at Just Around The Corner—a dive where the A/C doesn’t work, but the fryer does.
After lunch, I proposed a visit to DragonCon, as it was on the way back to my office. If you’re not familiar with this annual event—picture forty thousand people dressed in sci-fi outfits, packed like sardines into three downtown hotels for a weekend of only God knows what. When a colleague asked what the objective was, I simply offered, “I guess it’s akin to you and me spending a weekend at Augusta National.”
For a conservative finance guy maneuvering through a sea of alter egos in the preppiest of outfits (blue oxford, khakis, and argyle socks to boot), I didn’t quite fit in. As George Gobel famously said to Johnny Carson, “Did you ever get the feeling that the world was a tuxedo and you were a pair of brown shoes?” Of course, in this case, it was the opposite.
As I walked through the event, surrounded by Stormtroopers and Klingons of every shape and size, I saw a few UGA fans in the mix. And unfortunately for our Bulldog brethren, it was clear they were in the wrong place at the wrong time. To see a Georgia gentleman in the company of these characters is like seeing Phillip Fulmer at a salad bar—neither one of them wants to be there.
I couldn’t help but recognize the irony of these two completely different institutions in the same city, on the same weekend—one, a Southern university where the males wear their loafers sans socks and the coeds grace Sanford Stadium in seersucker dresses; and the other, an equally large group of people who dress up in flamboyant costumes and parade through Atlanta with reckless abandon for good taste. So while Bulldog fans were cheering for a touchdown, these guys were cheering in the Miss Star Trek Universe Pageant—and both were having a hell of a good time.
Until, of course, Boise State took us to the proverbial woodshed on national television. And to make it worse, our boys had to wear those ridiculous-looking uniforms. Replacing the silver britches with something that would’ve fit in at DragonCon is beyond me.
As I write this, I’m listening to the Rolling Stones sing Play With Fire, and I can’t help but wonder just what the hell goes on in the locker room when Richt is addressing his team. Where’s the fire in the belly? I’m about done with this subpar existence. This is GEORGIA! A storied program, a proud program, the envy of many! If I were Richt, I’d play this song and make sure every one of them knew—scratch that, make sure every one of them believed—that when you play with Georgia, you’re playing with fire, dammit!
I’m not going to jump on the Fire Richt bandwagon. Although at times it seems like Coach is actively seeking a second career as a missionary, but doesn’t want to come out and say it. And if we lose to South Carolina, he might get his wish. I would imagine the third-world conditions of Honduras are more hospitable than a crowd of angry UGA fans.
That being said, I hope the men running this program understand they’d be in the unemployment line if they performed this way in the real world.
On a brighter note, my daughter made me laugh when she tried to wear my UGA helmet, and I landed tickets to the 2012 PGA Championship. At this rate (14–13 since ’09), I’d rather spend an afternoon on the golf course than watch us continue to fall into oblivion.
Editor’s Note: Brad Evans is a guest blogger for Bulldawg Illustrated. He writes from the perspective of a UGA alumnus and suburban dad who longs every weekend to be in Athens. Instead, he ends up watching the game at home in a red and black bow tie, bourbon in one hand and cigar in the other, alongside his wife—an Auburn grad—and their 2½-year-old daughter and six-week-old son, both caught in the middle of mom and dad’s football loyalties.
