No. 17 - Bulldawg Illustrated XVII: UGA vs. Tennessee, 10/8/11

No Ties in the SEC

Why is the University of Tennessee starting a tradition of coaches who proudly display their school’s colors in the oddest of places? Bruce Pearl ran up and down the court in Albert Thurston suspenders, while Dooley is lighting up the sidelines in Volunteer orange trousers.

As much as I can’t stand anything to do with UT (including, but not limited to, Rocky Top, the color orange, and that hound who wouldn’t last one round against Uga), I do wish our coach would show a little more enthusiasm with his sartorial choices—or break from the pack and look the part.

Look the part? What do you mean?

I mean that coaches used to look like leaders. Like the chief executive. Like the guy who was calling the shots. Nowadays, they stroll the sidelines in athletic attire… a far cry from the great men who built this league—maybe in some lame 21st-century attempt to assimilate with their young players.

Think about it this way: on any given Saturday, there are better-dressed men tailgating on North Campus—and certainly in The Grove at Ole Miss—than the men responsible for winning the game. A little counterintuitive… isn’t it?

Other than being SEC coaches of storied programs, what do Vince Dooley of Georgia, Bear Bryant of Alabama, Shug Jordan and Pat Dye of Auburn, General Neyland of Tennessee, and Johnny Vaught of Ole Miss have in common?

Answer – They wore a tie. They looked like gentlemen. They looked the part. There was no question as to who was boss.

I’m old-fashioned in the sense that I believe men should look like men—no matter their profession or environment. And like the men who coached football back in the day, you wouldn’t have caught either of my grandfathers in athletic attire. They wore suits, shined their shoes, and wore fedoras. They were authentic twentieth-century men who smoked pipes and loved America… an endangered species.

Anyway, I’ve gotten off track (as usual).
My point is this: it would be nice to see some school spirit on the sidelines. I don’t mean that Richt should start wearing Pennington & Bailes Bulldog trousers, but for God’s sake—lose the warm-up gear and look the part. Look like a man. (Polo and khakis are for fans.)

Even though Dooley lost the game, there was no doubt who was running the program—even if he did it in bright orange pants. Personally, I’d prefer a tie over go-to-hell pants.

I’m off my soapbox now, so let’s get to the issue at hand.

We are still tied for first in the SEC East—but with only one team, as the Gators got a genuine you-know-what kicking by the Mad Hatter. The Dawgs should win next weekend, and so should South Carolina, effectively leaving the race for the East unchanged… for now.

I can’t help but look ahead to the Florida game and ponder the ramifications of losing. I’m an optimist by nature, but when it comes to this game, I’m the complete opposite. A win in Gainesville could catapult the Dawgs into a team with justified confidence and a sense of destiny. Conversely, a loss would be catastrophic. The wind in Richt’s sails would quickly be replaced with the heat of angry season ticket holders—and the players would inevitably feel it.

I don’t know… with all the gimmicks this program has been through in the last few years, maybe Richt should set the standard by throwing on a tie, looking like the Chief Executive, and taking his team to the next level.

If it worked for Dooley and the Bear, I see no reason why it wouldn’t work for Richt.

What I do know is this: we cannot afford another loss to Florida—especially at the hands of a first-year head coach.

Like always: Go Dawgs, and let’s stay optimistic. I know it’s hard the closer we get to the Florida game, but we’ve got momentum.

Post Script – Congrats to Coach Richt on his 100th win at Georgia.
Post Post Script – In the interest of full disclosure: I’m a former haberdasher, and for reasons unbeknownst to me, I care about the clothing our coach wears.

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 2½-month-old son, both caught in the middle of mom and dad’s football loyalties.