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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.

11.17.25

Dawgs Make Hamburger out of Longhorns—Again—and Again

Alright! Alright! Alright!

When will Texas learn that swagger and insolence does not equate to victory in the Southeastern conference? Kirby Smart’s Georgia Bulldogs reminded the world Saturday night, once again, what Grown Man Football looks like. Remember when Missouri joined the SEC back in 2012? We took a little business trip to that other Columbia and came home with a 40-20 win. The host crowd was oh so nice and oh so friendly and oh so condescending—before the game.

By the end of the game, I had fought an usher and been threatened with eviction from the stadium by three Missouri state troopers, before my daughter, Aaron Murray’s brother and Damien Swann’s daddy convinced the troopers that the usher started the whole thing. They threw him out of the stadium instead. But that’s another story for another day.

Last year I traveled to Austin with 56 of my closest friends and had a similar experience, without the fisticuffs or need for dramatic interaction with any Texas Rangers. Kirby came, Kirby saw, Kirby’s Dawgs kicked their collective asses. Then we held serve in the SEC title game in Atlanta.

I am certain that Jerry Sarkesian thought things would be way different when he brought his wunderkind with the prominent football surname between the hedges Saturday night. After all, they were all about defense and had, according to all the talking heads on TV as well as the internet pundits, the most ferocious front seven in college football. Impossible to run against. Certain to wreak havoc in the Georgia backfield, racking up sack after sack after sack.

And Arch Manning? He had come of age over the past three games and was quickly becoming the player Paul Finebaum and the national media had anointed him to be prior to the start of the season.

That’s what we were looking at and that was the tone of all the discussion wafting over tailgates, riding on the fumes of beer and bourbon, from Old Campus to the Oak Trees on Agriculture drive Saturday.

But that ain’t what the game was about, was it?

The game, which I unfortunately watched from home, was about a physical bunch of Georgia Bulldogs getting after Texas’s high-falutin’ asses from hit to holler and proving to the world that nobody wants to look on their play-off dance card and see a game against Georgia looming. Not Ohio State. Not Texas A&M. Not anybody. These Dawgs are physical and tough and play with one heartbeat.

And these Dawgs have Gunner Stockton who provides the spark for that common heartbeat. The folks over on North Avenue insist their one-man-team should be in the Heisman conversation. The national media consistently throws out big names from Ohio State and Indiana and Texas A&M. Gunner’s achievements are as lofty as the numbers put up by any of those guys. And when the game is over, he smiles that big old smile and gets in his grandaddy’s pick-up truck ad drives to Tiger to tend his cows.

You like numbers? Here are some numbers for you. 24 of 29 passes completed, with 4 touchdowns and a rare interception. (Only third of the year. I remember when Carson Beck would throw that many in a half.). The dude—and his is a DUDE—threw four touchdown passes. He ran for another. Against Texas. Put that in your Heisman pipe and smoke it.

Nate Frazier—now that’s a guy that’s coming into his own, and so is the Georgia offensive line. I’d dare say they are the most improved unit in the league. And we have learned that touchdowns are allowed in the first quarter—and when we turn the stadium lights red and everybody holds up four fingers at the end of the third quarter—it means something in Sanford Stadium.

Honesty compels me to admit that I was getting a bit antsy toward the end of the second quarter and the beginning of the third. We had our chances to do one of Kirby’s patented two-fers and didn’t even score once. Then the interception and the Texas score and my palms were getting a little sweaty. But then came another Bobo Death March—ten plays, 73 yards, six minutes off the clock. Up 21-10. And then . . . and then came the most unexpected on-side kick since the 2006 Sugar Bowl game in Atlanta. Nine plays. 53 yards. Another five-and-a-half minutes off the clock and it was time to piss on the fire and call in the dogs. The hunt was OVER.

Glory! Glory!

I had a few questions to ponder after the game. Worried about C. J. Allen. He’s the person we can least afford to lose on defense with a date against Haynes King coming up—and man do I want to beat Georgia Tech. I’m hoping that the abysmal punting was because we were so concerned about kicking the ball to Texas’s return guru, Ryan Niblett, and that Thorson was just doing something funky on his punts. 34 yards per kick is worrisome. But we didn’t give Niblett a chance to take off, so maybe that was the plan. And how about the game Demello Jones played? And Gabe Harris, Jr. And if you get a chance to go back and watch the replay of the game, check out Oscar Delp blocking on the edge and downfield. Remember when our players used to get bones to put on their helmets? He would have gotten a few.

I am fain to keep pointing out individual names because this team isn’t about individuals. It is about being a team, and we have a stomp down good one.

Now. We have to get past Charlotte without anybody getting hurt. Anybody. And then—we face the enemy. We go to the Benz to face the enemy.

Look for me Saturday. In Sanford. I’ll be the old gray-haired man in the red shirt—smiling from overgrown-ear to overgrown ear.

Darrell Huckaby

DHuck008@gmail.com