For a quarter-and-a-half, the dream was alive.
Georgia was beating LSU, in spite of its own mistakes. And for that quarter-and-a-half, the Georgia Dome had enough juice to charge every iPhone in the building for a week.
Just like that, a unit-wide breakdown in punt coverage allowed LSU to score and all but pull the plug.
And the dream as a whole began to die.
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Sure, the hopes of Georgia fans began to fade, but the first leg of my three-part dream was crumbling.
Part One was Georgia beating LSU.
This would lead to migraines for the anti-Mark Richt faction, because he finally came up with the big win he wasn’t supposed to get.
Again, I agree with many points of the anti-Richters, many points indeed, just not their conclusion.
Most would deride any other fan base that wanted gone a head coach who had won 75 percent of his games in the nation’s toughest conference, and at times, the nation’s toughest division.
“Who do they think they are?” would be the common verbal smirk.
Richt rebounded from last year and the wretched bowl game against Central Florida, with a division title, and for a quarter-and-a-half, a tease of what could happen next season (if he dumps 35 percent of the playbook he has authored and changes his offensive philosophy).
Of course, that has been the problem: the tease.
So the first part of the dream -- it’s almost a miniseries -- was gone, but the second one’s possibilities remained intact: LSU beats Alabama for the national championship.
Nothing against the Tide. You may dislike some people in the program, you may cringe at the hysteria, delusion and frighteningly misplaced priorities of the fan base.
But you have to respect the football played by Nick Saban’s gang.
That’s why Atlanta trading up to take Julio Jones over A.J. Green is defendable; players coming from Alabama are generally more prepared than most anywhere else.
And I’ve warmed a bit to Saban. He has passed the level of “no turn on red signs” and is gaining ground on toothaches.
But I want to high five, fist bump, insert-choreographed-celebration-here with Les Miles.
He’s goofy. He’s unclenched. The box he thinks outside of at times -- not nearly as often as people think, thanks to TV propaganda -- is pretty big, and that is exquisitely enjoyable in the increasingly boxless world of college sports.
To watch Miles win with a team as good as any -- especially in two of the three phases -- in the past decade or two and do it over Coach Huggable?
Saban’s jaw wouldn’t loosen for months, and it’d be lovely to see the smirk on Urban Meyer’s face that never leaves actually, well, maybe leave. Meyer apparently would find it tough to praise Miles if he rescued a kid from a well.
“I think the key was that the youngster was wearing slippery clothes that made it easy to pull him from the well,” Meyer would offer.
Long live The Hatter.
The third part is the Denver Broncos winning the Super Bowl.
Yes, because of Tim Tebow and how the constant denigrating of the past few years combined with the current overanalysis -- it’s ESPN, what do you expect? -- and continued denigrating makes one pull harder for him.
He actually has become an underdog.
The hypocrisy regarding Tebow is often pathetic and unsurprising. Two minutes after bellyaching about the TOs, LeBrons, Favres and company of the world and how so many athletes are self-involved, law-breaking, hourly-tweeting, team-ignoring egomaniacs, people rip the anti-21st century athlete.
One of the top three college football players in history is now one of the toughest football players in the NFL. He is humble, consistent, trying and all but harassed.
Tebow would be more effective with his message if he didn’t push it so much, but he is who he is. If that’s so repulsive, find a mirror.
Hating somebody like that is who we’ve become.
Nevertheless, winning the Super Bowl is realistically out, but I’d be just as happy with a playoff win with him completing 58 percent of his passes and rushing all of about four times. That’s good enough.
Had Georgia won, it would have set in place the complete dream. Ruffle Richt-ripping ranks. Muffle Miles malice. Trouble Tebow taunters.
Oh, the flood of brain matter in the streets from heads exploding had all three happened in the same two-month span would have been monumental.
Dear Santa, two out of three is fine.
Contact Michael A. Lough at 744-4626 or firstname.lastname@example.org