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College Football with Lewis Grizzard
Posted on 9/1/22 at 6:19 am
Posted on 9/1/22 at 6:19 am
First, I want to wish every team good luck this year without any injuries. I hope everyone has good times at the games and stays safe. Here's college football from the late, great Lewis Grizzard:
To my Son, if I ever have one:
Kid, I am writing this on September 3, 1984. I have just returned from Athens, where I spent Saturday watching the University of Georgia, your old dad’s alma mater, play football against Clemson.
While the events of the day were still fresh on my mind, I wanted to recount them so if you are ever born, you can read this and perhaps be able to share one of the great moments in your father’s life.
Saturday was a wonderful day on the Georgia campus. We are talking blue, cloudless sky, a gentle breeze and a temperature suggesting summer’s end and autumn’s approach.
I said the blessing before we had lunch. I thanked the Lord for three things: fried chicken, potato salad and for the fact he had allowed me the privilege of being a Bulldog.
“And , Dear Lord,” I prayed, “bless all those not as fortunate as I.”
Imagine my son, 82,000 people, most of whom were garbed in red, gathered together gazing down on a lush valley of hedge and grass where soon historic sporting combat would be launched. Clemson was ranked number 2 in the nation, and Georgia, feared too young to compete with the veterans from beyond the river, could only dream, the smart money said, of emerging three hours hence victorious. They had us 20-6 at the half, son. A man sitting in front of me said, “I just hope we don’t get embarrassed.”
My boy, I had never seen such a thing as came to pass in the second half. Todd Williams threw one long and high, and Herman Archie caught it in the end zone, and it was now 20-13. Georgia got the ball again and scored again, and it was now 20-20, and my mouth was dry, and my hands were shaking, and this Clemson fan who had been running his mouth the whole ballgame suddenly shut his fat face.
Son, we got ahead 23-20, and the ground trembled and shook, and many were taken by fainting spells.
Clemson’s kicker, Donald Igwebuike, tied it 23-23 and this sacred place became the center of the universe.
Only seconds were left when Georgia’s kicker, Kevin Butler, stood poised in concentration. The ball rushed toward him, and it was placed upon the tee a heartbeat before his right foot launched it heavenward.
A lifetime later, the officials threw their arms aloft. From 60 yards away, Kevin Butler had been true, and Georgia led and would win 26-23.
I hugged perfect strangers and kissed a fat lady on the mouth. Grown men wept. Lightning flashed. Thunder rolled. Stars fell, and joy swept through, fetched by a hurricane of unleashed emotions. When Georgia beat Alabama 18-17 in 1965, it was a staggering victory. When we came back against Georgia Tech and won 29-28 in1978, the Chapel bell rang all night. When we beat Florida 26-21 in the last seconds in 1980, we called it a miracle. And when we beat Notre Dame 17-10 in the Sugar Bowl that same year for the national championship, a woman pulled up her skirt and showed the world the Bulldog she had sewn on he underbritches. But Saturday may have been even better than any of those.
Saturday in Athens was a religious experience. I give this to you, son. Read it and re-read it, and keep it next to your heart.
And when people want to know how you wound up with the name “Kevin” let them read it, and then they will know.
To my Son, if I ever have one:
Kid, I am writing this on September 3, 1984. I have just returned from Athens, where I spent Saturday watching the University of Georgia, your old dad’s alma mater, play football against Clemson.
While the events of the day were still fresh on my mind, I wanted to recount them so if you are ever born, you can read this and perhaps be able to share one of the great moments in your father’s life.
Saturday was a wonderful day on the Georgia campus. We are talking blue, cloudless sky, a gentle breeze and a temperature suggesting summer’s end and autumn’s approach.
I said the blessing before we had lunch. I thanked the Lord for three things: fried chicken, potato salad and for the fact he had allowed me the privilege of being a Bulldog.
“And , Dear Lord,” I prayed, “bless all those not as fortunate as I.”
Imagine my son, 82,000 people, most of whom were garbed in red, gathered together gazing down on a lush valley of hedge and grass where soon historic sporting combat would be launched. Clemson was ranked number 2 in the nation, and Georgia, feared too young to compete with the veterans from beyond the river, could only dream, the smart money said, of emerging three hours hence victorious. They had us 20-6 at the half, son. A man sitting in front of me said, “I just hope we don’t get embarrassed.”
My boy, I had never seen such a thing as came to pass in the second half. Todd Williams threw one long and high, and Herman Archie caught it in the end zone, and it was now 20-13. Georgia got the ball again and scored again, and it was now 20-20, and my mouth was dry, and my hands were shaking, and this Clemson fan who had been running his mouth the whole ballgame suddenly shut his fat face.
Son, we got ahead 23-20, and the ground trembled and shook, and many were taken by fainting spells.
Clemson’s kicker, Donald Igwebuike, tied it 23-23 and this sacred place became the center of the universe.
Only seconds were left when Georgia’s kicker, Kevin Butler, stood poised in concentration. The ball rushed toward him, and it was placed upon the tee a heartbeat before his right foot launched it heavenward.
A lifetime later, the officials threw their arms aloft. From 60 yards away, Kevin Butler had been true, and Georgia led and would win 26-23.
I hugged perfect strangers and kissed a fat lady on the mouth. Grown men wept. Lightning flashed. Thunder rolled. Stars fell, and joy swept through, fetched by a hurricane of unleashed emotions. When Georgia beat Alabama 18-17 in 1965, it was a staggering victory. When we came back against Georgia Tech and won 29-28 in1978, the Chapel bell rang all night. When we beat Florida 26-21 in the last seconds in 1980, we called it a miracle. And when we beat Notre Dame 17-10 in the Sugar Bowl that same year for the national championship, a woman pulled up her skirt and showed the world the Bulldog she had sewn on he underbritches. But Saturday may have been even better than any of those.
Saturday in Athens was a religious experience. I give this to you, son. Read it and re-read it, and keep it next to your heart.
And when people want to know how you wound up with the name “Kevin” let them read it, and then they will know.
Posted on 9/1/22 at 6:28 am to dirty bastard
Loved Lewis Grizzard. I loved his alternative to marriage where he said, instead of getting married again, every 5 years he would find the ugliest woman he could find and would just buy her a house.
I can't believe he was just 47 when he died. Freaking loved that guy.
I can't believe he was just 47 when he died. Freaking loved that guy.
Posted on 9/1/22 at 6:32 am to dirty bastard
Lewis was the man. I remember him writing about that Tech game in the AJC several years later "I still HOPE IT HURTS."
This post was edited on 9/1/22 at 6:33 am
Posted on 9/1/22 at 6:34 am to dirty bastard
The first home game for UGA after he died was against Tennessee.
Just before the game started a banner plane began circling Sanford stadium.
"I'M HERE. GO DAWGS! LEWIS GRIZZARD"
He had stipulated in his will that flyover and that some of his ashes be spread on the 50 yard line at Sanford.
Tennessee won that game 41-23
Just before the game started a banner plane began circling Sanford stadium.
"I'M HERE. GO DAWGS! LEWIS GRIZZARD"
He had stipulated in his will that flyover and that some of his ashes be spread on the 50 yard line at Sanford.
Tennessee won that game 41-23
Posted on 9/1/22 at 6:38 am to madmaxvol
Lewis was one of us, but with great writing skills. I would've loved to have a Pabst with him.
Posted on 9/1/22 at 6:43 am to dirty bastard
“That dog’ud bite you!”
Posted on 9/1/22 at 7:01 am to madmaxvol
quote:
Loved Lewis Grizzard.
:kige:
"Don't bend over Granny, them Taters got eyes"
Posted on 9/1/22 at 7:03 am to Pandy Fackler
quote:You're an idiot.
He wasn't funny.
This is why you have never had a woman as fine as Kathy Sue Loudermilk.
Posted on 9/1/22 at 7:05 am to Pandy Fackler
quote:
He wasn't funny.
I can see why you wouldn't like his stuff. With all of the words and no pictures...it must be hard for you.
Posted on 9/1/22 at 7:05 am to dirty bastard
Lewis Grizzard “A true legend”
Sadly today he would have been cancelled out since he did not fit the approved narrative to be journalists.
Sadly today he would have been cancelled out since he did not fit the approved narrative to be journalists.
Posted on 9/1/22 at 7:18 am to Pandy Fackler
quote:
He wasn't funny.
Hundreds of syndications and millions of books sold disagree with you. Along with thousands of paid engagements to speak and multiple tv appearances.
Maybe you're just bitter.
Posted on 9/1/22 at 7:27 am to dirty bastard
how in the absolute hell are there four people who would downvote that?
ETA: oh, I see one, Pandy Fackler
miserable person
ETA: oh, I see one, Pandy Fackler
miserable person
This post was edited on 9/1/22 at 7:29 am
Posted on 9/1/22 at 7:30 am to Pandy Fackler
Peter Puffer, I mean pandy fackler, you are the life of the party, everywhere you go, I assume.
Posted on 9/1/22 at 7:31 am to dirty bastard
quote:
Son, we got ahead 23-20, and the ground trembled and shook, and many were taken by fainting spells.
That very line shows how Southern he was, and why he is so missed.
Posted on 9/1/22 at 7:33 am to dirty bastard
remember watching this game on ABC. Great game. 60 yds to Butler was 40 to everybody else. Best kicker in SEC history. That season UGA played like 3 QB's. Todd Williams, Jackson and David Dukes.
As far as Lewis, well there will never be another. He could talk about a sheet of notebook paper and you would listen.
He HATED Tech. Remember once saying playing at Grant Field was like playing at Dunwoody High and then apologized to Dunwoody High
As far as Lewis, well there will never be another. He could talk about a sheet of notebook paper and you would listen.
He HATED Tech. Remember once saying playing at Grant Field was like playing at Dunwoody High and then apologized to Dunwoody High
This post was edited on 9/1/22 at 7:36 am
Posted on 9/1/22 at 7:35 am to SavageOrangeJug
quote:
SavageOrangeJug
giving you a rare upvote
Posted on 9/1/22 at 7:37 am to Pandy Fackler
quote:
He wasn't funny.
Hell even the names of his books are funny.
Posted on 9/1/22 at 7:40 am to madmaxvol
His death to me was as bitter as the passing of SRV.
Death is so permanent.
Death is so permanent.
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