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.

12.08.24

Dawgs turn Horns Down--Again

I know I’ve been AWOL a lot this year, y’all—but thanks for having patience with me. I am writing this column from 30,000 feet on a plane headed for Houston, Texas that is full of Longhorn fans travelling incognito. None of them are wearing Texas gear but burnt orange luggage tags and baseball caps and scarves peeking out of backpacks and carry-on bags give them away.

How ‘bout them Dawgs!

Let me rephrase that.

HOW ‘BOUT THEM DAWGS! How ‘BOUT them Dawgs! and How ‘bout THEM Dawgs and How ‘bout them DAWGS!

How do you follow up a win for the ages against The Enemy from North Avenue? With another win for the ages against the whining Texas Longhorns in the SEC Championship game. How ‘bout them Dawgs. Uga got the last laugh over Bevo, who wasn’t even allowed in the stadium.

I have enjoyed football games before. I have gotten excited at football games before. I have been fortunate enough to see most of the UGA classics over the past six decades in person. I was not in Mercedes Benz Stadium Saturday. I was at home, with close friends, watching from my recliner. Actually, I was standing and running around the room and in and out the front and back doors more than I was sitting. The game was way too intense to sit still.

But I have seldom had more fun watching a game and I have seldom felt better about the outcome. “My God Almighty, did you see what they did!” Speaking of Munson, I hope he and Erk and Coach Dooley and Dan Magill were all watching together, somehow peering down through the clouds—and the closed roof of the Benz. I don’t know how that works, theologically, but I still hope they were watching.

I don’t know what Kirby says to our team at halftime but I am going by Butts-Mehre when I get back in town and dropping a note in the suggestion box. I think maybe he should say whatever it is to the team BEFORE the game at the Sugar Bowl.

I wonder if there was sugar falling from the sky along with the blue and yellow confetti after the game.

The game. Wow!

Honesty compels me to admit that I wasn’t real confident about the outcome. I haven’t been real optimistic about much of anything this fall, to tell you the truth. I had not given up hope, understand, and never will—but let’s face it. This team has not been clicking on all cylinders. They have guts. They are resilient. They are the Never Say Die Dawgs. But they haven’t always clicked on all cylinders and we have had people out and it is hard to beat a good team twice in a row and everybody who has ever worn an ESPN blazer has been kissing Texas’s backside for weeks and—well, you know. I had doubts for the same reasons you all did.

My doubts were not alleviated when we went three and out almost every time we touched the ball the first half. But the defense hunkered, didn’t they? Last week the Texas running game looked like a reincarnation of something from the 1960s. Last night they didn’t piss a single drop against Georgia’s defense on the ground. Not a drop. 31 yards? That’s more than last time. And we got about a gazillion sacks. And we kept them out of the endzone the entire first half. How good was the defensive front? How well did we tackle in space? How good was Daylen Everette?

I could go on and on and on. I could also say how impotent was our offense? It so bad that Kirk Herbstreit was openly mocking Arian Smith. Don’t get mad about it. You were all cussing him.

And despite the fact that Texas quarterback Quinn Ewers completed third down passes at will, particularly to anyone Daniel Harris was covering, when the teams ran to their respective tunnels at halftime—while Carson Beck lay writhing in pain on the sideline and Steve Sarkisian was whining on national TV about his team’s penchant for holding Georgia’s defensive players—the score was only 6-3 Texas and neither team had even sniffed the endzone.

Enter Gunner Stockton, of the Rabun County Stocktons.

That dog can hunt and that team rallied around Number 14 like he was the reincarnation of Andy Johnson. Ten plays. 75 yards. 1 touchdown. And for the rest of the night, it was a war.

How many times did the defense come up with key stops when we absolutely had to have a stop? How many big plays did the team make, from Lawson Luckie chasing down the Texas DB after the horrible interception to Arian Smith diving on the loose football after Frazier’s fumble to Oscar Delp lowering his head and picking up a key first down to . . . well, when a game goes into overtime EVERY play is big.

God bless Trevor Etienne.

And Kirby’s testicles grew three sizes Saturday. The fake punt on his own thirty was the stuff of legend. And he even used a fullback on the winning touchdown run in OT.

I could go on all night. Glory! Glory!

And have you looked at the draw we got in the College Football Playoff?

Tennessee and Texas and Oregon are all on the other side of the bracket. I don’t fear Notre Dame or anybody else on our side. I think January 20 will be one of the best days in the history of the world. Trump is inaugurated at noon and Georgia wins the National Championship around midnight. Glory! Glory!

But first things first. Look for me in New Orleans on New Year’s Day. Shades of 1980. I’ll be the good-looking guy in the red shirt, holding up a sign that reads Need Two.

Darrell Huckaby

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