No. 15 - Bulldawg Illustrated XV: UGA vs. Ole Miss, 9/24/11
Butler and the Bulldogs
What do Rhett Butler and the Georgia Bulldogs have in common? They both came back from the dead this weekend… as evidenced by the photo and our 2–2 record.
Now, anyone with a rational constitution might ask: How?
To which I’d answer: The Dawgs seem to have embraced the belief that they can win—that they don’t have to be perennial losers. That we’re not just a glorified version of Ole Miss with all the pageantry and tradition but nothing to back it up (and I say that with genuine respect—I considered law school there). And most importantly, that there’s no Calvinistic doom bestowed upon the program, one that only a miraculous act of providence could lift.
Oh, I’m sorry… you were probably more interested in how our dear friend Rhett Butler came back from the dead. Well, you see… I spent the better part of an evening sharing fellowship with the protagonist of Gone with the Wind. Just look at the photo. Do you really need more evidence? I can assure you, with absolute sincerity, he’s the real McCoy—and we had a hell of a time. To quote Judge Smails from Caddyshack, “He and I are regular pals.”
The last we heard of him, Captain Butler was walking off into the mist, bound for Charleston, leaving Scarlett with those immortal words: “Frankly, my dear, I don’t give a damn.” And he really didn’t—he told me so, over a glass of Kentucky bourbon.
And would you have guessed? He’s an SEC football fan. A South Carolina fan, no less. His depth of knowledge is second to none (he assured me he knows infinitely more than Ashley Wilkes). The last season he could clearly recall was when Wally Butts led the Dawgs to a 4–5 season and Rex Enright barely got his Gamecocks through a 3–6–1 campaign in 1939. And to the dismay of the Son of South Carolina, one of those six losses came at the hands of Georgia in Sanford Stadium.
Anyway, how Rhett came back from the dead is classified. I could tell you, but I’d have to kill you. Just know this: he’s still the same old charming playboy.
Now let’s get back to the Dawgs.
My father and I spent Saturday afternoon in Atlanta at the Tour Championship golf tournament. In between watching thirty grown men chase around a little white ball for $10,000,000, I managed to catch part of the Ole Miss game in a hospitality tent—on a big leather couch, beer in hand, with the East Lake G.C. Tudor clubhouse in the background. Quite a way to watch the Dawgs.
I can’t provide an in-depth analysis, because I didn’t see enough of the game. Periodically checking the score on my phone and listening to the last five minutes on the car ride home left me high and dry (and yes, I do miss Larry calling the games… do I ever).
So let’s focus on Mississippi State.
The boys from Starkville struggled against Louisiana Tech. Let’s use some good old-fashioned common sense: if they barely won in OT versus the LA Tech Bulldogs at home, how do you think they’ll fare against Georgia on the road? My guess—I’d rather put my money on the Kardashian family producing a Rhodes Scholar than bet on us losing to those guys.
I see no reason why we shouldn’t be heading to Knoxville with a 3–2 record. Why? Well, it’s purely emotional, so here goes: Because, quite frankly, I do give a damn.
Losing to those guys last year was humiliating, and I sure as hell don’t want to feel that way again.
And besides, if Rhett’s still upset about the Gamecocks losing to Georgia in 1939, I figure a second consecutive loss to Mississippi State would sting until at least 2083.
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 watches 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 2-month-old son, both caught in the middle of mom and dad’s football loyalties.
