Place 11- 20 Gators in a large pot, Jacksonville Municipal Stadium will do. They having big heads matters little, since most of them do. Add the right ingredients, to include one ex-Georgia player who can jump enthusiastically for three hours and whine for one. Add one sprig of a quarterback, John B IV, who proves one of two things, Florida women have no imagination when naming their children or Florida men aren’t smart enough to keep up with which generation they belong to. Bring to a boil, then turn down the heat, drop in 11-20 Bulldawgs, the best meat tenderizer in the SEC and let simmer for four hours.
After beating the mess out of them for that time, they should be nice and tender, crying forever more, when watching True Blood or Twilight. However, I doubt you’ll have much left, everyone knows once you beat the mess out of a Gator, well, there just ain’t much left and it certainly can’t taste good.
I watched the game at one of my cousin’s homes in Athens Saturday. Due to some sick twist of fate, more specifically some sick football pick thingy or maybe a bet gone wrong, his wife had to pull for Florida. She appeared wearing orange, determined to live up to whatever tragedy had befallen her. I know she had to pull for Florida, but she screamed, yelled and paraded back and forth in front of the TV throughout the first three quarters. I don’t know about you, but I got a Florida heart, sorry I meant a weak heart. I was sitting on the edge of my seat; my cousin couldn’t sit down at all. His wife was being a little too enthusiastic; I think she was making sure the Bulldawg Nation knew everything Florida was doing. Trust me we knew.
She danced, cheered and yelled. She even had one of those orange highway cones which increased the size of her mouth by the power of ten. Boy when she loses a bet, she does it with gusto. I must give her credit; she appeared from the house at the beginning of the fourth quarter dressed appropriately in red and black and went on to cheer us to victory. It’s a good thing; I took a deep breath, reset the safety on my gun and saved her life without her even knowing it needed saving, that my friend is gun control. Her evening reaffirmed why I don’t bet on sports.
The game wasn’t pretty, we missed some opportunities, the score should have been 96-20, but it was a win. We have a habit of letting games slip away in the last quarter, but our boys held on. I personally enjoyed the game, it being one of the sweetest victories I’ve ever tasted. We had shrimp and grits in Athens and our boys went on to enjoy a bowl of alligator over rice in Jacksonville Florida.
We took em out behind the barn. We sent em out to pick their own switch, my grandmother’s favorite and my least. We took em out to the woodpile. We tanned their fannies, hides and britches. We blistered their bottoms. We spoiled the etouffee and didn’t spare the rod. We beat em like redheaded step-children. We opened a can of whoop Alligator tail on em. We beat the tar, fire and Hades out of em. We beat em so bad John B’s mom felt it, so did his dad John B I and his two brothers John B II and III. I heard when the stadium emptied out; he was still sitting at mid field with his arms draped over his knees. Poor guy, we could have brought him back with us, Uga’s little dawg house is empty at the moment.
We have a season going and it’s pretty sweet, what we really needed was for those pesky Gamecocks to lose to Tennessee, but it wasn’t meant to be. Will Stevie ever go away? Doesn’t one of those Yankee teams need a coach? I think he’d do well in Minnesota, Iowa or maybe Quebec. Hey do they have college football in Chihuahua, Mexico? He could be a soccer coach, anything really, just run him out of the SEC. I’m kidding, don’t get your panties in a wad; hold on while I set that safety again, whew just saved Stevie’s life, I’m a hero. I’ll probably get hate mail from Mexico, Canada and most of the soccer teams in the world.
Now it’s time to get ready for New Mexico State. I think that entails hangin around the grocery store for a week harassing organic fruits and vegetables, then doing tons of elbow reps or beer curls. As long as our players can spell football, we should win this one. As long as their players can spell bus or airplane they should, at least show up.
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