Monday, October 10, 2005

On why it's great... to be... a Georgia Bulldog (and/or fan of other Georgia teams)

Okay, so some sports fans had a really good weekend, and some didn't. In the end, it all comes down not so much to the teams you support, but to the sports themselves. Case in point?

- If you're a fan of college football (and who isn't?), and especially a fan of UGA football (like any intelligent person), you probably noticed that UGA took the Vols in their own stadium 27-14. Ugly win? Screw you. Such an animal does not exist, and for every Bulldog miscue, there was a corresponding Bulldog shake-it-off-and-kick-some-ass to more than compensate. However, Doug at Hey Jenny Slater reminds us not to get too cocky, because the sports gods will punish us with injuries, random acts of interception, and a miraculous Vandy safety with thirty seconds to go. That having been said, sic 'em.

- If you like hockey, and you're willing to stand proudly against the barbs flung by non-hockey fans (and, incidentally, what's with the hate? You don't have to love it, but must you castigate those of us who do? I think that y'all are just Braves fans who can't stand to see anyone else happy), you noticed that the Thrashers slammed the Washington Capitals 8-1 Saturday night. Anyone who thinks that that sounds suspiciously like a baseball score should be reassured: it's hockey. By the end, Caps goalie Olaf Kolzig would just lie prostrate on the ice after every goal that slipped past, as if in perfectly appropriate shame. Other highlights of the night include somewhere between five and seven seriously entertaining fights, a guy in the stands holding a big blue sign that read, "The guy behind me can't see," and the very existence of Peter Bondra, who is my babydaddy.

- If you're a baseball fan, you have no one to blame but yourself. Anyone who was surprised that the Braves had a reasonably good season and then choked in the first round of the playoffs just hasn't been paying attention. The fact that they lost to the Astros 7-6 in the 18th inning only makes it worse; it's like coaxing a struck puppy over with a handful of Snausages and then whacking him on the nose again.

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