How Georgia Football Made Me Question My Will to Live (Again)

In this installment of our wordy walk through the 2024 Georgia Bulldogs football season we come to the first of a handful of losses on the year, a frustrating one that requires a little nuance to unpack properly. So I decided to lean on the most nuanced wordsmith and observer of Georgia Bulldog football I could think of: Lewis McDonald Grizzard, Jr. (a great American). Enjoy.

For the first two and a half quarters of this ball game, I was madder than a Baptist preacher who just found out the church accompanist was stashing moonshine in the organ pipes. Here’s Georgia, needing to come out swinging like they were defending Savannah from winding up on Abe Lincoln’s Christmas list, and instead they played like the Atlanta Ballet B team. Not that there’s anything wrong with ballet. It’s just that it has no place as a strategy in an SEC football game. Unless you’re Vanderbilt.

Then just like that ornery ex-wife who keeps coming back when you’ve finally gotten comfortable being miserable (ask me how I know), Kirby Smart’s Bulldogs decided to fight back. They even took the lead for a hot minute there. If they’d held onto it, this would’ve been the biggest comeback since Elvis woke up and decided to get his jumpsuits let out in the seat. But they didn’t hold it, so it wasn’t, and I’m still madder than a wet hen in a thunderstorm.

Now don’t let all that late-game excitement fool you into thinking this was some kind of moral victory. A veteran Georgia team should never have been in a position where they needed divine intervention and a Hail Mary just to make it respectable.

If these problems had been caused by some freshman from Buena Vista who’d never seen a crowd bigger than the county fair, well, that’d be one thing. But Arian Smith played the first half like he was trying to catch footballs while riding a mechanical bull at a honky-tonk. The boy’s a fifth-year senior, for crying out loud. And it was our All-SEC veteran Malaki Starks who let Jalen Milroe run past him like he was standing still at a bus stop. Oscar Delp kept dropping passes like they were hot grease, and frankly, I’ve seen better hands on a snake.

Then there’s Carson Beck. Sweetheart of the rodeo, Carson Beck. Alabama defensive coordinator Kane Wommack did something to that boy’s head that reminded me of the time my cousin Junior tried to hypnotize chickens at the family reunion. By halftime, Beck was looking downfield about as often as I look at my credit card statements – which is to say, not at all, because nothing good can come from it.

Now Beck did throw for 439 yards and 3 touchdowns, which sounds impressive until you realize he also threw 3 interceptions and fumbled the ball like it was a court subpoena covered in Crisco. He threw so many passes that should’ve been picked off, Alabama’s secondary looked like they were playing catch with their eyes closed. If that young Alabama defensive backfield had been just a little bit better, this game could’ve been uglier than a preacher’s divorce.

Carson Beck’s Heisman hopes are deader than disco, folks. Deader than my first marriage. Deader than the possum I found in my driveway last Tuesday. I named him “Carson” on account of his lack of escapability.

The truth is, none of this late-game drama would’ve been necessary if this team had shown up ready to play from the get-go. Georgia’s slow starts are becoming more predictable than your no-account brother-in-law showing up uninvited for Sunday dinner. At some point, you got to wonder why a coaching staff making more money than the GDP of Luxembourg can’t figure out how to get their players fired up before the second half.

If you want to find something positive in all this mess, go ahead and celebrate that the Bulldogs didn’t quit when they were down 28-0. That’s about as impressive as staying conscious during a tax audit, but I suppose it’s something.

Georgia gave up yards in the first half like I gave up trying to understand women, but they tightened up in the second half. Mike Bobo’s offense finally started clicking like grandpa’s joints on a cold morning. Arian Smith made up for his earlier foolishness, and Dillon Bell played like he had a date with Kathy Sue Loudermilk on the line.

Maybe this team grew up a little in that second half. Maybe. But I’m about as convinced of that as I am that politicians tell the truth. I think Alabama just got a little comfortable, like a cat in a sunny window, and that’s the only reason this game got close.

Here’s the cold, hard truth that nobody wants to talk about: Georgia has now lost 9 out of 10 games to Alabama. Nine out of ten! That’s worse odds than me picking the right checkout line at Kroger. Kirby Smart got his job because we fired the last guy who kept coming up just short against Alabama. The expectation around here isn’t moral victories – it’s actual victories, the kind you can frame and hang on the wall next to your mama’s picture.

This team better take a long, hard look in the mirror, and I don’t mean the kind of look you take when you’re trying to convince yourself that shirt still fits. This was just the first test, and if they keep playing like they did in that first half, they’ll be watching the playoffs from their living rooms like the rest of us.

The margin for error just got thinner than my patience at a family reunion. If this Georgia team keeps showing up like they did in the first half tonight, they’ll be home for Christmas, and not in a good way.

Don’t let anybody tell you different.

Go ‘Dawgs!!! (Lord help us all.)