Dawgs vs. 'Pokes. The Gameday Experience, Volume I

All things considered, it was a glorious return the motherland this weekend. Good weather, great game, great camaraderie and very nice just to be "home," even if all I did in my "technical" home was pick up a heavy TV and a file folder with birth certificates so the Maryland DMV will believe I am who I say I am. So, without further ado, random musings and observations from Game Weekend:

In the past, we had our elaborate tailgate setup with tents, gas powered generators, satellite dish and huge TV. This time, we wanted the same technological advantages without a lot of the manual labor and hullabaloo. So the basic plan was: Slingbox connected at Freebird's house. Bring the laptop. Connect the laptop to a TV set. Power with portable, rechargeable power source (no gas or engines). Watch games. It wasn't quite as simple as it sounded, because even though we went through a complete test run the night before to great success, there was some trouble getting the television picture from the laptop to the TV. Could have been the lack of an S-Video connector on the TV (necessitating the use of a contraption called a TVnator, which sounds like something Onterrio Smith would stuff in his pants), could have been the TV itself, or we could have just been drunk. However, this was early in the day, so I'm going with some type of technical glitch. We were also dependent upon the technical expertise of Scrat, who assured us there was a solid wireless signal with an open network available at the tailgate spot . (if there hadn't been, he would have suggested "reboot," and then been mocked unmercifully. Fortunately, the signal was fine). So the key learnings from the set up: We need to borrow or purchase an actual computer monitor to have additional viewing screens, and this will be much better than a TV because of the seamless connection to the laptop, it's lighter and more portable and the cost of a monitor is much less than an "extra" television. We didn't need the portable power sources, (though we may want to keep them in reserve) because we found a power outlet in the building across from the set up. Freebird brought a long drop cord, and power was plentiful. (However – the cord was ORANGE – a color that will rear its ugly head later in this post. But I doubt Home Depot offers very many RED cords. But they should, dammit).

Hank's company is part of Marmon, and he whipped out some trivia about the company. However, before he even finished, I offered up the only "Marmon" trivia I know: The first car to win the Indy 500 was the Marmon Wasp. Driven by Ray Harroun. Yep, that's what he was asking. And no, no one else knew that one.

I can't recall how it came up, but Johnny Fontaine was the Sinatra like crooner from The Godfather.

Noted tailgate raconteur The Huff showed up, oddly clad in summer wear and not dressed like a deranged beekeeper slathered in SPF 93. Or Marlon Brando in The Island of Dr. Moreau. However, The Huff's shirt was not adorned with a UGA logo. Or, as we pointed out, he had no G-Spot. Miz Huff will be disappointed to learn this.

We were desperately trying to follow the Appy State / Michigan game, utilizing a variety of resources. I was working the CrackBerry, Hank was checking in via Sirius Satellite Radio and we had game breaks on the game we were watching on the Slingbox. We never got a good handle on how much time was remaining. I wasn't sure how "real time" the CrackBerry updates were, and at one point, Hank was befuddled because the time remaining (according to his radio) went from 3:08 to 3:17. Was the game clock going backwards? Was there a tear in the time-space continuum? Er, no. Hank was looking at the digital clock on his radio. Later, I heard a rumor that the game was actually being shown on the Big 10 network – which we could have received via DirecTV. If anyone knew or cared about the Big-Fucking-10, or realized the Big-Fucking-10 was on the program guide, or if the AJC showed this pissant network in their "games on TV" listing.

Somewhere in the last week, Hank's suggestion of "I might bring a grill" turned into Freebird's promise to the known world that Hank will be preparing a grilled feat of Emeril-like proportions for everyone west of Sanford Stadium. To his credit, Hank did fire up some mighty tasty Johnsonville brats and good dining was enjoyed by all. A tailgating tip I'd never heard: after removing the brats from the grill, put them on the bun and then put them back in the bun bag for a nice steamy soft bun. Fantastic!

However, I chose to wear a white shirt (note to The Huff: with a G logo) and even eschewed ketchup so as not to stain myself. But I suffered the dreaded "bursting brat" experience, and had brat juice all over the front of the white shirt. Of course. Then, the helpful Miz M said she had a fix for me. She said a "Tide Stick" would take the stain right out. I had no idea what she was saying (my knowledge of the Laundry Arts is limited to the basics: detergent, bleach, softener and dryer sheets, though living in temp housing with an archaic washer has reacquainted me with the Downey Ball) and thought she said "Thai Stick." Hmmm. Well, yes of course. Some Thai Stick would make me forget all about that stain on my shirt. (Or, in the case of some of my more colorful college experiences, put me into a paranoid obsession with the stain, resulting in purchasing a new shirt and then spending 12 hours lounging in a papasan chair watching the same videos on MTV over and over again). Surely Miz M didn't keep some exotic, top shelf weed in her purse along with the baby wipes? And she wasn't planning to fire it up right in the middle of the tailgate, just to make me forget my stain? Well, imagine my surprise when it turned out to be a stain removing "marker" that took that brat juice right away. Without getting the munchies or spiraling off into a discussion of parallel universe theories. Thanks, Miz M!

Speaking of drugs, I'm happy to report that the tailgate featured no panty flashing, wonky-eyed, worn out, gold-digging trollops trying to mack on random fraternity brothers.

Before the Doc and wife departed, it was time to mix up the pregame pitcher of our signature shot, The Bulldog Bites. Once again acting as the master mixologist, I put together a tasty concoction. However, we had a problem. You see, the night before while picking up the supplies, we didn't find any Diet Mountain Dew Code Red – the key ingredient to give the shots the red tint. But staring right at us on the shelf was a similar product – "Game Fuel." It promised a "cherry flavor with a hint of citrus." On the shelf, it looked deep red in its bottle adorned with football helmets. After much discussion with the Freebird, we purchased this. (And yes, Freebird, this was a fucking mutual decision). Even in the pitcher, the mixture looked red. But once it was poured into the white Dixie cup shotglasses (featuring Disney characters! If I'd smoked a Tide Stick, I'm sure they all would have been Goofy), GASP! HORROR! The Bulldog Bites were……Orange. Yes, the most hated color in the known universe. The color of many of our SEC foes. The color that has no word that rhymes with it. Hell, even the color of the night's opponent, the OSU cowpokes. What to do? Drink them, ingesting the accursed color? Freebird quickly turned, getting his Javert on, and blaming a potential upset loss on me, and me alone. Thanks for having my back! I guess that was just my imaginary friend in the Publix with me. Fucker. Despite the exhortations to "Fix it!!," I was at a bit of a loss. Oh, sure I could have pulled out the culinary kit from my gameday backpack that contained red food coloring. Fortunately, we had some year old Code Red lurking in the Bite Kit, so I put some of the rather flat beverage in the mix to "red it up" and everyone imbibed, still with some trepidation.

Despite not being in "game day drinking shape," starting the day early with screwdrivers and carrying on through beer, shots and whiskey to a night game, there were no arrests, compound fractures, divorces, technicolor yawns or other unfortunate byproducts.

Somewhere at the tailgate, there was a bet that Matt Schaub would be a Pro Bowl QB this year. Okay, I think Schaub will be a solid QB. And for fantasy reasons, I hope he throws quite a few TDs to Andre Johnson. But there are only 3 signal callers from the conference in a Pro Bowl, and I think the AFC has a couple of guys named Manning and Brady. Someone's gonna owe some money on this one.

Miz Freebird had the camera out. In addition to her typically delightful tailgate and game presence, I'm sure there will be some candid shots out there in the blogosphere. By the time all was said and done, I'm not sure what her "football" mood was (yes, this was toward the end of the game and beginning of the drive home when things became rather….blurry. I do recall some streetside pizza and not much else). Tech won, which was good for her (and though I really wasn't "pulling" for the North Avenue Trade School, I didn't see any possible way from an analytical standpoint that The Golden Domers stood a chance in the game. Turns out I was right. Notre Dame got buggered like an altar boy who looks like Zac Efron). However, the Vols got beat by Cal. So that was bad for her.

Yes, highlights set to music can be inspiring and a good way to set up the game and fire up the crowd. And yes, The Who rock. But I'm still not sold on how we start the game in the stadium. It feels more like CSI: Athens. You're telling me that we couldn't find a song from a band with Classic City connections for the montage? There's this little band called REM, for example. Perhaps you've heard of them. Or the B-52s. Or Pylon. Or Widespread. Hell, there are dozens and dozens of bands we could have picked. Was lame, still lame.

I know Erin Andrews is the darling of the blogosphere, and yes, she's competent and hot. But I prefer Stacy Dales. I just can't get past the fact that Andrews went to Florida.

After the Michigan score was final, the word "Chaminade" was uttered quite a bit. For all the claims last year of "rematch!" about UM and Ohio State, I think the Gator dismantling of the Buckeyes and this year's Appy State juggernaut should serve to quietly say "shut the fuck up."

The Cowboys kicker's white shoes were quite Teh Gay.

Welcome back random tendons taken from elsewhere and inserted into ACLs! Both Bailey and Brown looked rock solid. Lump and Moreno may have more innate talent, but no one in college football works harder than Thomas Brown.

Here's the only unfortunate part of the whole gameday experience. Always, we've been able to walk up the stairs to the concourse and go to the little beverage stand right there and buy a drink with ice in a stadium cup. Never had to wait for more than 1 or 2 people in line. It was convenient and perfect for just getting another drink – and not waiting in the larger lines at the main concession stand with people getting nachos, hot dogs and feeding a family of Indonesian children for a month. Now? The top of the stairs concession area has been gutted. There are only bottles of coke and nothing else. No ice. No cups. WHAT THE FUCK? Whose bright idea was this, and what purpose does it serve? Why not just put a vending machine there, with a big backlit panel that reads "Fuck You, Alumni!"

On the upside of the cup situation, this year they're featuring Munson's greatest calls on black stadium cups. They're a thing of perfection. I knew that all the "orange shots" bad juju would be overcome when my very first stadium cup was the Belue to Scott call.

Since Moreno is from New Jersey, every time he had a good play, I screamed "Bada Bing!" Either there aren't too many Sopranos fans out there, or I wasn't quite as clever as I drunkenly thought. I'm leaning toward the latter.

Mikey Henderson will have at least 3 special teams touchdowns this year. The dude is ELECTRIC.

Only one drop from the receivers. Did they learn? Did Eason coach 'em up? Will this perpetual weak spot finally turn into a strength?

Say what you will about Willie Martinez, but Saturday, there were red shirts swarming all over the field. There was great penetration behind the line and even with a QB as mobile as Bobby Reid, the pressure was on constantly.

Stafford managed the game magnificently. 184.4 QB rating. 75% completion rate. 2 TDs and no picks or turnovers. The late season surge from last year continues. I wound up sitting by a New England Patriots college scout on the flight home, and he said some of his peers who had watched HS and college tape of Stafford said he was one of the best QB prospects to come along in quite some time. We also wound up talking about Joey Harrington, whom this guy had scouted coming out of college. Falcons fans should have some hope, in that this guy indicated that Harrington is much better than advertised. He couldn't go on enough about what a fucking mess there was in Detroit that just destroyed Harrington. And they really appreciated what he did as a QB last year in Miami when breaking down the game film. Also worth noting: Brady Quinn is a douchebag and really, really overrated.

Also amusing: watching the Mark Richt show with Mr. & Miz E Sunday morning (thanks for Tivoing that! Great thinking!), they had a segment where a "fan" asks a question of the coach. We're halfway paying attention, but when Coach starts his response off with "Well, baby…" Miz E was like "what? Huh?" Was the sainted coach pulling a Mike Dubose? Turns out, the "fan" asking the question was Mrs. Richt. "Baby" indeed.

All in all, a GREAT holiday weekend and start to the Dawgs season. Next weekend, Darth Visor brings his chickens 'tween the hedges. In the words of a Columbus, GA unwed mother: "Bring on the Cocks!"

Go Dawgs!