I am a football fan. I love the ultimate team game, and appreciate it played at the highest levels.
I am a Georgia fan, and with that distinction comes certain responsibilities.
I am supposed to say that all games matter equally. I am supposed to know that the most important play is the next play, and the most important opponent, the next one.
I am supposed to, at best, hold all of our rivals, Auburn, Florida and Tennessee in equal levels of disdain. (I am also honor-bound to ignore Georgia Tech as a rival, instead regarding them as an annoying, younger neighborhood kid who we beat up on occasionally.)
But, I cannot.
It doesn’t matter if the Vols are good or bad going into the annual match-up, a certain inexplicable level of vitriol overcomes me whenever I think about that team. I hate the Volunteers. I hate the Vol Navy, I hate Rocky Top, I hate that orange, and I’m even not too fond of the dog, even if I do think Blueticks are a great breed.
I have every confidence that UGA wins Saturday, but I want more. I want the Bulldogs to summarily dismiss the citrus colored cretins and their supporters. I want there to be no second guessing, no what ifs, no feasible way they could win this game.
And I know we can do it.
Remember, when you think Tennessee football, think death, decay and sadness.
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