First, I got my kicks watching the Georgia game. The Bulldogs won! Against an SEC team! And there was actually competition during the game! Nevertheless, Davis fell asleep in his chair. We'll give him a pass on that because he was under the weather. But Stephen was also snoozing during the first half, and Lawson just abandoned the game to play X-Box Live. I don't understand. I found the game rather interesting to watch. And here's why:
Two seasons ago, when I started my Learning the Dawgs blog, I could not understand the reasons for all the different kicks. When do you punt, and when do you kick with a tee? And why do it two different ways to begin with? What's a pooch kick? What's the point of it? When is it appropriate to catch the ball after a kick and run it down the field, and when is it appropriate to let it fall to the ground and watch it roll toward the end zone? Kicking made very little sense to me.
But this year I get it. My light bulb moment occurred at the end of the first quarter. The score was 10-0, and Ole Miss punted but then watched the ball roll down the field, and I realized they wanted the ball to get as far into the Bulldogs' territory as possible. That way, when the Dawgs got the ball, they'd have farther to run. Makes sense.
Then, during the second quarter Ole Miss punted and Brandon Smith tried to catch it, but then he decided not to. He jumped out of the way and again, the Rebels watched the ball roll. But uh-oh! The ball almost rolled into the end zone! And Rebels floundered around, eventually swatting the ball back onto the field, where it ended somewhere at the one foot line. And that's when I got the end zone business. If the ball goes into the end zone, then the opposing team gets its first down at the 20 yard line. But by swatting the ball back onto the field, Georgia had to have its first down at that point, and they had farther down the field to go.
But I still didn't understand why Brandon Smith didn't catch the ball to begin with. Why did he jump out of the way? Fortunately, Davis had awakened from his Ny-Quil induced nap, and he said that sometimes the receiving team decides not to catch the ball because the receiver will get sacked and might fumble, thereby giving the opposing team possession.
So now everything about kicking makes sense except the decision not to catch the ball. I mean, in every aspect of the game, nobody seems to mind getting tackled. At kickoff, the receiver catches the ball and runs right into the middle of a bunch of hulking defensive linemen waiting to tromp on him. Then, after the snap, the quarterback passes the ball to a receiver, who runs like the wind toward the goal post until a faster defensive player pulls him to the ground. Or the quarterback passes the ball over to a running back, who (if he's a Bulldog) runs right into the middle of a wall of defensive linemen, just salivating for a morsel of running back meat. After all, isn't that what all those pads are for? But punt the ball to a player, and all of a sudden, he's the Wimpy Kid. Oh, no, he thinks. Somebody might knock me down. And he jumps out of the way, allowing his opponents to tippie toe around the ball as it wobbles on its side toward the goal line.
I don't know. That "I might fumble if I get tackled" excuse seems kind of lame to me. If only the Georgia Bulldogs leaped out of the way of each punt, I'd understand it. After all, their chin straps still don't work (How long must we watch red helmets bouncing all over the field like popcorn?). But every team I've watched avoids catching that punt at some point. I say man up. Catch that ball. Run it down the field like your pants are on fire. Isn't football about mayhem and carnage?
And that's all I've got to say about football, because once the game ended, it was time for the next phase of the Remler Fall Kickoff:
Road Trip!
Shortly after half time, the Taylors came over! Dawn and Jim, after attending a fascinating legal conference, drove from St. Simons to Savannah for a short visit on Wilmington Island. And after some time to catch up with each other and enjoy a refreshing libation, we all showered up and put on our party clothes for a trip to beautiful Vidalia, Georgia, where we attended the surprise birthday party for BB and Hugh.
Boy, Hugh and BB were flabbergasted to see the host of friends and relatives who had gathered at the home of Nancy and Tom Peterson. And we all had a fine time catching up with our cousins, aunts and uncles. After the party ended, Sabra and Martin joined us for the drive home, and after a short stop at the Vidalia Dairy Queen for a delicious dip cone, we went back to Savannah for a good night's rest.
Stephen looked at me and said, "Why don't we drive to Brunswick?"
I shrugged. "Why not?"
"Let's not tell Davis and Lawson where we're going," he said.
"Fine by me," I replied before returning inside to tell our boys, "We're going to run some errands."
And off we departed to travel down I-95 because we had not had enough of the interstate the previous day. And on our journey, we brought home...
Clifford
We found ourselves at the home of Stephen's brother, Brett, who had recently purchased a new truck from the Ford Motor Company. And because we didn't like to see Brett suffering from a lack of garage space, we decided to take his old Chevrolet Avalanche off his hands.
"Let's surprise Davis with it," Stephen said. "After all, he's been a good boy. He might enjoy driving a truck with a working radio."
"I think Davis will like that," I replied. And we were right. Here's the big smile on Davis's face upon receiving a new truck.
Lawson's mighty excited too, because now when Davis picks him up from school, he'll get to depart in a cool ride. Not only that, but Lawson soon discovered that the tool boxes in the back are too small for Davis to stuff him into them. He feels a lot safer now.
Of course, when one sees a vehicle of this size and color, one immediately feels the urge to call it Big Red. But Davis, Stephen, and I all declared that name too cliche'. We thought a while about a different name for the truck, and Stephen eventually came up with one just right: Clifford
Just like that big red cartoon dog.
So now the weekend is at an end. Fall is here. Barbara and Hugh have celebrated the big 7-0. I understand punts. Davis gets to ride in comfort. Everybody's happy.
No comments:
Post a Comment