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Let’s go, Dawgs!

Confession: I had never been to a University of Georgia football game, until now. I guess the allure of the Bulldogs has always escaped me. Maybe it’s just one of those things that can truly separate a transplant, no matter how long their tenure, from a Georgia native. To me at least, a Georgia flag hanging off a car on game day around here has all the chutzpah of someone running out in the street and shouting, “I like milk!” If you really want to make a bold statement, I have some Boston College gear you can borrow.

And while I’m being honest, can we talk about the hair swoop? It’s one thing if you are a guy in college and decide to grow your bangs a little too long necessitating a swoop of your hand across your forehead at 30 second intervals. But if you are an adult who has retained the signature UGA hairstyle a decade after graduation, I can bet you are wearing penny loafers with no socks right now, too. The student body actually seems more diverse in person, but for years it seemed to me that attending UGA was to enroll in the homogenous zone.

So perhaps it’s ironic that the impetus for us going to our first UGA game was Kristen’s cousin, Georgie, from New Jersey. He has no hair swoop or loafers to speak of. Georgie is just a sporting event-travel-enthusiast who attended Scranton University himself. On previous visits he has seen a Falcons game, the NCAA Final Four and the Masters. This time he wanted to see the Bulldogs play, so we bought tickets for the Vanderbilt game and scoured our wardrobes for something red.