Beautiful Victory
It was a thing of beauty. The Atlanta night time sky was illuminated with the glow that comes from the combination formed when God inspired human ingenuity is painted against the canvas backdrop of God’s creation.
The old stadium at the corner of Techwood and North Avenue was bulging at the seams as the loyalists of the Georgia Institute of Technology anticipated dealing a crushing defeat to their rivals from the University of Georgia of which I am a proud graduate of the Class of 1983.
This was the 31st consecutive Georgia-Georgia Tech game that I attended and on only one other previous occasion do I remember Georgia being such an underdog to the Yellow Jackets.
I sat down in my seat and looked at the field below surrounded by a swarming sea of yellow clad partisans who said all sorts of vile and nasty things about my dear alma mater.
The teams took the field and the game began. The Dawgs were to receive the opening kick-off. I knew the strategy was sound. If Georgia could move out to an early lead it would certainly enhance our chances at victory.
The ball was handed to Caleb King and then to Washaun Ealey and the Dawgs thundered down the field and soon they were up 7-0 without throwing a single pass.
The first half continued; my confidence grew. Halftime came and the bands took the field. Georgia held a 14-point lead. Yet, I could not exhale. We had led by 16 at the half of last year’s game and the lead vanished as quickly as a snow ball lost in the tropics. I knew the Yellow Jackets would have their moments.
Indeed they did. Tech received the second half kick-off and in a few short plays the score was now 17-10. The Jackets supporters were again confident and I felt a huge knot growing in the pit of my stomach.
The Dawgs received the ensuing kick-off and the ball was given to Caleb on the first play. Down the field he thundered for another Georgia touchdown.
The upset was now more than a flight of fancy. Tech had hit the Dawgs with their best shot and the Dawgs did not blink but returned with a haymaker of their own. I joined my fellow red and black bleeding faithful in a deafening roar.
Yet, the issue was not settled. As the clock raced past eleven in the evening and midnight beckoned, the Jackets had scored two more touchdowns while the Bulldogs could only scratch with a couple of field goals. The score stood at 30-24 when Blair Walsh lined up to try a 55-yard field goal with a little over three minutes left in the game. The kick was plenty long but was slightly wide. The Jackets would have one last shot at snatching a victory from the Bulldogs.
In two minutes of playing time it was over. A fourth down pass was dropped by Demaryius Thomas of Georgia Tech and the issue was settled. Georgia would prevail on this night. The score would remain 30-24 and the Bulldog Nation could let the celebration begin.
I thrust both my arms heavenward and for the first time in nearly three hours my blood pressure returned to normal. A few of the Jackets seated around me questioned my ancestry, my intellect and the color of my neck; yet, I did not respond but simply laughed at their frustration.
For three hundred and sixty five long days I had endured the misery of last year’s defeat at the hands of the Jackets and on this night I relished not in revenge but rather in the accomplishments of the unquenchable Bulldog Spirit. A chant began in the stadium and grew louder and I joined my Bulldog brothers and sisters in shouting, “It’s great to be a Georgia Bulldog!!”
I realize that I am supposed to write about spiritual matters in this space and I would never attempt to place any eternal significance on the outcome of a football game. This Dawg simply wants his moment to reflect on a wonderful evening. I thank you for letting me share it.