This won’t be a touchy-feel-good article! I’m angry! I’m talkin’ let’s throw it down country-boy mad!
First of all, for those of you who don’t know me, I am a dyed-in-the-wool, Dawg lovin’, Georgia Boy! As I said in my profile: I bleed red and black. I named my middle daughter “Georgia.” Need I say more?
I was Georgia born
And Georgia bred,
And when I’m dead
I’ll be Georgia dead!
I’m just waitin’ on the day that Herschel runs for President! Knowshon in the VP spot, Terry Hoage as Secretary of Defense, David Pollack over Homeland Security……Son! Whatchew talkin’ bout!
Anyhow, as to why I’m upset: Certain writers on this here Bleacher Report are takin’ shots at my Dawgs for hardly ever travelin’ very far from home for a ball game. How many times have I heard that it has been “40-plus years” since they headed across the fruited plain to play a ball game?
I’m sick of the lack of professionalism!
Lisa throw’d the c*pc*ke accusation at us again, and then made some snide remarks about us drinkin’ Kool-Aid. What an insult! She knows full well that we drink sweet tea! When my cousin Booger gets through law school, I’m slappin’ a lawsuit on that woman so fast! Of course, it may be a while—he’s been stuck in fifth grade for nine years.
You can take this to the bank: While we respect the teams out west or up north, we sho’nuff ain’t afeard to play them! Do your dad-gum research people!!!
In an attempt to erase this lack of learnin’, I’m gonna share with you exactly why my beloved Dawgs rarely ever travel very far for a game.
10. Canine Confusion
This one really has us concerned for this Saturday’s game in the desert! Animal Planet has warned us what would happen to the North American animal kingdom if UGA VII ever bred with a Western coyote. Something called a Bullyote! Runs like greased lightnin’ and will bite the heck out of you!
9. Culinary Confusion
Rumors are out that “those people” serve frozen milk rather than grits in their waffle-cones! No wonder their young’uns can’t plow a straight field! When you ask for “bald” peanuts, they just stare at you and then give you directions to the nearest barbershop!
8. Language Barrier
It’s tough enough to play ball and do your studies without having to beef-up on some foreign language just so you can communicate. Example: In some places a “boggin” is something you’re looking for in a store—to us it’s something we do with our pick-up trucks down at the mud-hole on Friday nights.
7. Passport Problems
Our Georgia Passports (hunting knives) keep settin’ off the metal detectors in stadiums that are lackin’ in modern technology. Most backwards universities will not allow our players to carry them durin’ the game. Can you imagine?! Our guys would feel naked!
6. Financial Considerations
Besides the cost of the trip, we have to send State Troopers with the team for security purposes. That leaves us short handed at our speed traps, and the coffers run low quickly.
5. The Mason-Dixon Line
Need I say more? Everybody that lives below it knows exactly what I’m talking bout! Bad things happen to Southern boys who cross that line—just ask General Pickett!
4. Air Travel
The Georgia players like to hang their arms out the windows when they travel. These gal-darn windows ain’t even got cranks on them!
We know how to calculate! Some smart-aleck lady called my Uncle Percy last week and as soon as he picked up the phone, all she said was “Long distance, Chicago,” to which Uncle P replied “No-duh!” He had to hang up on her six times in five minutes before she finally quit callin’!
We know our geography, and we know if you are a long distance from us! If we travel, we’re tired—if you have to travel...welcome between the hedges boys!
2. Hostile Environment
The further away from home you get—the less you’re liked! We like playing our neighbors!
Heck yeah! We wanna beat Bama, but we will never forget that when Allatoona Dam broke it was Bear Bryant that came and parted the waters and led our people through on dry ground!
And after all, Tennessee gave us Davy Crockett!
In Florida we play at what is called a neutral site. One-third is for us, one third is for them, and one-third is so drunk they don’t know who they are or who they’re for.
The War of Northern Aggression wasn’t that long ago, and we figure it’s a trap to get all the men folk away so the Yankee’s can burn Hotlanta again! Never again!
Fool me once, shame on you—fool me twice, shame on you again (we will always blame the Yankees!).