I didn’t think there was a halftime adjustment good enough to bring the Bulldogs back Monday night. After Oklahoma’s last score of the first half, dejected and slumped on a couch, phone attuned to Twitter, I said aloud to no one in particular, “We’re just getting our (hineys) kicked.”
I know, I know, the Falcons and Saints play meaningful football this weekend, Lanierland starts Thursday and Georgia is in the college football playoff, but let’s put all that on the back burner momentarily, i.e., just humor me.
I was a Georgia Bulldog long before I existed. Before you stop reading thinking I’ve gone ’round the existential bend, hear me out. I’m back at work today fresh off a four-day excursion to New Orleans. (Fresh may be stretching it a bit, but for the sake of the bosses out there reading this, I’m Outkast-style fresh and clean.)
I tweeted out Saturday night that Jacob Eason would not start for Georgia again this season. Twitter's 140 characters don't allow for a lot of explanation, so I need to clear a few things up in the aftermath of saying that Eason shouldn’t or won’t start again this season.
If you’ve ever watched sports with friends, or strangers for that matter, you’ve seen this scene play out: a nudge of a neighbor’s arm followed by a grin or head nod, but most definitely a point to a television screen, and the words, “told you.”
From the time I was a little girl to now, my 38th year, when high school football season starts I have a visceral reaction that is a byproduct of happy memories and exhilarating anticipation, neither of which has quelled over time.