huckaby

Darrell Huckaby is a syndicated columnist and author of six books including two about Georgia football. Read Huck’s Wit and Wisdom every Wednesday and Sunday. Subscribe at darrellhuckaby.net.

9.14.25

Dawgs on (Rocky) Top—for the Ninth Straight Time

Heaven help us and Lord have mercy, I thought my heart was going to stop somewhere around the middle of the fourth quarter Saturday. They say football isn’t a life-or-death matter, but whoever “they” are clearly hasn’t sat through four hours in Neyland Stadium with 100,000 orange-clad Tennesseans singing “Rocky Top” like it’s the state anthem.

I was home in front of my television set, watching the game all alone—by choice—but was getting minute-by minute updates from my son Jackson, who was the designated good-looking-Huckaby in the red shirt on this particular Saturday night on the banks of the Tennessee River, and Georgia–Tennessee felt like something out of the Old Testament — plagues, pestilence, and a whole lot of smiting. Unfortunately, early on, we were the ones getting smote. It was a rocky start on Rocky Top, y’all.

By the end of the first quarter, Tennessee had jumped out to a 21–7 lead, and I was already rehearsing what I was going to tell my preacher Sunday morning when he asked why I looked like I’d been crying all night. The Vols were throwing the football like they just invented the forward pass and hadn’t told the rest of the football world. They were generally making us look like we’d shown up for the wrong game.

But we are Georgia. We have Kirby Smart—and Gunner Stockton. These Dawgs don’t quit.

Gunner — with a name like that, you’re legally required to throw for at least 300 yards — started zipping the ball around like he was playing catch in the backyard. The offensive line gave him time, and suddenly the Dawgs were back in business. By halftime, it was a game again.

We came out in the second half like Vince Dooley had been resurrected from the grave. We ran the damn ball. Right down Tennessee’s throats, using half the first quarter to score. The rest of the second half was like two heavyweights standing in the middle of the ring trading blows. Tennessee scored. Georgia scored. Twice Georgia was held to field goals after being goal-to-go and I thought it would eventually bite us. But he who bites last bites best. I lost count of how many times I gave up, only to be right back up hollering like a man who’d just been told his latest PET Scan had come back negative.

Then came the fourth quarter. Tennessee scored to go up 38–30, and Neyland Stadium turned into the world’s loudest blender. The orange faithful were ecstatic, while visons of storming the field danced in their heads.

No goal posts would float in the Tennessee River this night. 4th and 6? No problem for Gunner Stockton. He dropped the ball into London Humphreys' arms in the end zone like he had been doing it all his life. Then he calmy threw to Zachariah Branch and there we were.

And if the Tennessee kid hadn’t missed the last second field goal, we would have somehow blocked it. That’s how much I believe in these Dawgs.

Overtime in Neyland is no place for the faint of heart, but the Dawg defense hunkered—they did hunker, didn’t they? It was a cruel joke to have the Tennessee kicker put them ahead by three with virtually the same kick he had just missed.

Then Nate Frazier streaked around the left side, looking for all the world like Sony Michel in the Rose Bowl—except he somehow got caught on the four. No worries. Give it to that big kid out of Illinois and finally it was Glory, glory to old Georgia.

I heard Kirby’s presser and he said all the right things. “Tennessee deserved to win. We’ve got to clean up the mistakes” and “We still haven’t played our best football.” That’s fine. That’s what coaches do. But make no mistake — this was one for the ages.

Beating Tennessee on Rocky Top, with a Gameday crowd on hand, after being down 21–7, then 38–30, then watching a potential game-winner go wide before taking it in overtime — that’s the stuff Georgia fans will be telling their grandkids about.

And now we have a week off to rest, get healed, and work out a few kinks. Then Alabama comes to town. But Nick Saban won’t be with them.

Don’t look for me next week. I’ll be watching football from an undisclosed location. The color of my short remains to be determined. It might be a game time decision.

Darrell Huckaby

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