'Twixt the Privet Rows

Today I went to my first Georgia football game.

(The readership gasps!)

No, really! Sports aren't really my thing, and I've just never worked up enough interest to actually go and buy tickets. Plus, I'm somewhat less than fond of large, boisterous crowds. This time, however, I decided I'd bite the bullet and see what all this "Dawgs" business is all about.

("Why?" asks the readership.)

Because it was free, naturally! Apparently, the academic division of the athletic department has a faculty outreach program: they invite randomly selected instructors from a particular department to each home game, and treat them like demigods. Yes, indeed, they gave us the works: free tickets, breakfast with the coaching staff, freedom to roam about on the sideline before the game, and free refreshments in a club box at halftime. Sweet, no? As lukewarm as I am toward football qua football, I'll not turn down free cool stuff!

Sadly, my encounter with Mark Richt and the rest of the coaches is undocumented. To snap the man's picture as he greeted us seemed somewhat boorish. While I did not shake his hand, he gave my shoulder an absently paternal pat. This cannot be insignificant. If the touch of a king cures scrofula, we at the table decided the touch of a head coach cures athlete's foot.

After breakfast, we walked to the stadium to participate in the ritual known as the "Dog Walk" (or perhaps "Dawg Walk"). This involves all the fans lining up outside the stadium in two rows as the team strides purposefully between them. As a Super Special Guest, I got to line up inside the big metal fences that surround the stadium, instead of outside the fence with the hoi polloi. The team itself was preceded by perky cheerleading types, such as the young lady below. The blurriness denotes her speed, though it is hoped the unfortunate gesture does not denote her politics.

The players do not scamper swiftly into the stadium: they march or strut, depending on the player, exuding confident machismo, as exhibited by the stern-visaged gentleman below.

After the team entered the stadium, we English instructor folk followed and prowled about on the sideline, feeling both giddy and out of place.

One of the notable features of Georgia's home stadium are the privet hedges which flank the field. As one of my companions, a guest of Matt Lewis's from the agriculture department, pointed out, privet is a epidemic-scale invasive species. This leads to an irony: while fans may pay big bucks to get a cutting of the stadium hedges, less than ten miles away at the Georgia Botanical Gardens, privet is exterminated without mercy.

If I don't particularly care for football, why did I go? Because I teach football players. While football may not interest me in the abstract, I do care about my students and want them to do well both in class and out in the world. In past years, I had no opportunity to see my students play, since they were redshirt freshmen. This time, some of them were on the field, notably Demarcus Dobbs and Kade Weston, both students from last year. Below is Mr. Weston, who is a large fellow indeed.

I also saw one of my current students, Chris Little, out on the field warming up, though I'm not sure if he got to play: his hand has been in some sort of brace for the past several weeks.

At this point, not all players were out on the field warming up yet. Some, like this gentlemen, just chilled.

The Park Hall contingent, from left: Ivan Scrivner (PH Honorary), Kelly (Doug's girlfriend), Matt Lewis, Doug Root, and Steve Florczyk.

Some warming up commences at last! This I recognized as fairly normal football behavior.

This, not so much. These three pictures are from an exceptionally odd drill the whole team performed in unison. It involved falling down, flipping over, and standing up again. Rinse, repeat.

The cheerleaders were also warming up -- right behind us. Note Matt and Steve on the left, stoically ignoring the mass of cheer girls behind them. Just as football players are unexpectedly big when seen from up close, cheerleaders are unexpectedly small. We're talking near hobbit-scale littleness here. I suppose that's why they can pile so many of them on top of each other in aesthetic heaps.

The other team -- the Western Carolina Catamounts -- were also on the field warming up. They seemed... subdued. Beyond the fact that no-one expected them to win or even do particularly well, their name was also a source of amusement: I'd never even known there was a state of West Carolina, and Catamount has an unfortunate semblance, as Matt L. pointed out, to the word catamite, the definition of which I shall not link.

Their cheerleaders were also warming up. I felt a bit sorry for them, particularly since they were performing for approximately fifty fans, tucked away in a little purple-and-yellow corner of the stadium.

A lonely football, which inspires thoughts both philosophic and melancholic.

This is the view from our seats, which were right at the top of the stairs: a perfect location. It was shady, cool, and immediately behind a men's restroom.

Uga, the Georgia mascot, was out on the field before the game started, posing for cameras. He looked pretty happy, but dogs usually do when they're getting as much attention as he does.

Finally, and to inspire extra envy, here's a shot of the amenities in the super cool box in which we got to spend halftime. Note the comfy chair, and also me in the comfy chair. Hooray for VIP treatment!