Glory, Glory

Last weekend was an equally exciting and disappointing weekend for me. How is that possible you ask? You would understand if you were a fan of Georgia sports. As a lifelong, die-hard Georgia Bulldawg fan, I have experienced this sensation many times.

If your blood runs red and black, if the battle hymn can bring tears to your eyes,  if you cheer as loud as possible every time you see a clip of Herschel Walker running over Bill Bates, if you try to insert Go Dawgs into every conversation, if you know that orange is a terrible terrible color, if you understand that there is no tradition more worthy of envy no institution worthy of such loyalty, if more than half of your closet is red or black, if you you are not ashamed to bark like a dog in public, if you get chills every time you hear Kryton and immediately hold four fingers in the air,  then you know what I am talking about.

I have never not been a Bulldawg fan. My father went to UGA. (My aunt went too.) He then upon graduation went to work for UGA as an Agriculture Extension Agent through the Cooperative Extension Service. Through his work, he was able to get season tickets for which I have always been exceedingly grateful. My mother an avid sports fan, possibly an even greater fan than my father, was happy to join him. When I came along, it was only natural that I would join them in this weekly autumnal pilgrimage to watch Georgia football. 

When I was in high school, I briefly and not very seriously entertained the thought of going to other universities. I always ended up saying but it's not Georgia, it's not Athens. So I decided that the only logical choice was Georgia. It was the only school I applied to. I honestly had no backup plan. I never entertained the thought that I wouldn't get in. I have not been more confident of many things than that of my plan to go to the University of Georgia. As it turned out, UGA wanted me; perhaps there was no way they could have matched my desire of my attendance, but they wanted me. I decided that I wanted to study agriculture but I had chosen UGA long before I chose one of the school's premier colleges. It just so happened that I was attending one of the top agriculture schools in the world. Going to UGA was one of the best experiences in my life. I loved my professors and courses, the extra-curricular activities and I loved the sports. It didn't matter to me that UGA was "rebuilding" for most of my time there. They were the bar none best school in the world. I never missed a football game. To this day, I have attended at least one UGA game every season of my life. I have been to high stakes games and the blood money games where they pay off some poor school and run them in the ground. I have been there from 30 degrees to 100 degrees, games where I thought I would get a heat stroke and some have rained so much I thought I was back in the Amazon. 

Which brings me to the picture above and last weekend. Hurricane Joaquin was rendezvousing with an weather front and together they dumped a whole lot of rain on the Carolinas and pretty fair amount in Athens, GA as well. That did not deter me from participating in one of my favorite pastimes. I had my knee-high waterproof boots, my rain jacket, and a heavy duty poncho to protect me. It rained the entire game but I was psyched nearly out of my mind. I jumped up and down. I danced. I screamed every cheer at the top of my lungs to the point I would begin to feel lightheaded from forgetting to breathe. Now ultimately Georgia lost the game humiliating horribly but I never stopped cheering. I never stopped caring. By golly I was going to FINISH THE DRILL! It was an incredible experience. Now yes  I wish we had won but I am not about to let that diminish how wonderful it felt to be one with the other ninety plus thousand fans present in our solidarity for the Georgia Bulldawgs. 

But I have to ask myself a question that has been running through my mind all week. When have I ever felt so passionate about God that I forgot to breathe? When have I ever felt an intense emotional swell that I was brought to tears by a song about God? When have I ever laid caution to the wind and pushed through the rain, the heat, the cold, the exhaustion without complaint to carry the message of God like I will do in order to see my precious Bulldawgs play? When have I ever felt so free in my expression of worship of God as I do when I am cheering on the Bulldawgs? When have I meant Glory to God more than I mean Glory, Glory to ole Georgia?

You know if we are being honest, I am going to have to tell you that I don't think that has ever happened.