Huck's Throwback Thursday
Clean Old Fashion Hate 365/24
How do I hate thee? Let me count the ways.
I hate you because of your smug fans and false air of superiority when everyone knows your pitiful little program isn’t worth a damn. I hate you because, even though you try to put on this superior air, you are in reality, the most crass and tasteless group of fans in college football.
I hate you because you cannot sell out your tiny bandbox of a stadium, even though it is right in the heart of the largest city in the South with millions of fans to draw from.
I hate you because during our recent run of 13 wins and 2 losses, you actually won two games.
I hate you because your coach is a classless jerk who grabs and cusses players on the sideline and challenges his fans to punch Georgia fans in the face. Hell, I purely wish one would try.
I hate you because Jasper Sanks did not fumble and you got credit for a win, anyway.
I hate you because you won 8 straight games in the 1950s. God bless Theron Sapp.
I hate you because you always claim that academics is the only thing keeping you from being among the elite programs in college football—and especially because you talk so much about calculous. The fact that Eddie Ball stayed eligible for four seasons negates any credibility to those arguments. That stupid SOB couldn’t even count to four. Thank goodness he has an engineering degree to fall back on since his football career didn’t work out.
I hate you because the inimitable Dan Magill did. He hated The Enemy more than he hated the Japanese, and I have seen up close and personal his disdain for the Japs he fought in World War II. Dan Magill wouldn’t have pulled for Georgia Tech with two-engines out on the team plane. He would have pulled for hell to freeze over tomorrow before he would have pulled for them. He hated Georgia Tech so much he wouldn’t even put mustard on a hotdog—and he loved mustard. He called them a bunch of squint-asses. I have no idea what a squint-ass is, but if Dan Magill claimed that North Avenue is full of them, then I know I would never want to be one.
You get the picture, I think. A lot of people tease about how bad they dislike another team or program. I’m not teasing.
My Aunt Agnes Thompson taught me to yell “To hell with Tech” when I was four years old. A lot has changed since 1956, but that has remained a constant in my life. My first Tech game was on Thanksgiving Day. I don’t remember the year. The Bullpups were playing the Baby Jackets in the only Freshman Classic in college football history. Strong legs ran so that weak legs could walk. It was just the freshmen teams that were playing but I didn’t care.
The Georgia freshmen had on silver pants and helmets and red jerseys and the Tech players wore gold pants and helmets and white tops. They played football and one side won (ours) and one side lost (theirs) and that was good enough for me.
I’ve been to dozens of contests since then and so many stick out in my mind that I hate to try and pick a favorite. The 2009 game soothed my soul. I watched the rerun of that game twice last night. Georgia had lost five games and Tech was ranked 7th in the country. We were big underdogs. We ran through them like a dose of salts through a widow woman. I run this state. Indeed.
The one where Reggie Ball through it into the hedges on fourth down was pretty sweet, too, as were the two games in which Reggie Ball threw interceptions on the last play of the game to seal Georgia victories each time.
1978 was special. Buck Belue came off the bench to save our bacon. 1957 was special. I already mentioned Theron Sapp. 1971. Wow! It looked like Georgia had lost the game—on Thanksgiving night, in Atlanta--but Andy Johnson ran a perfect two-minute drill and Jimmy Poulos dove over the goal line with the winning score in the waning seconds of the game. And he did score, I don’t care what Troy Puckett said afterward.
But the best Tech game still has to be the one in 2002 when Georgia won 51—7. I have traveled all over the world. I have been to every state in this great nations. I have seen many beautiful sights, but I have never seen a prettier sight than those yellow clad fans pouring out of the Tech deck at halftime in 2002, down 34-0. It looked like a team of giant horses were pissing on so many flat rocks.
Saturday. High noon. The rivalry is renewed. I’ll be the good-looking guy in the red shirt. The one with “To Hell With Tech” printed across the front.
Darrell Huckaby is an author, educator and syndicated newspaper columnist. Contact him at email@example.com.