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October 2008
This Tech loss was uncharacteristic
The Atlanta Journal-Constitution
This was not exactly what Paul Johnson had in mind for his first homecoming day at Georgia Tech. Virginia was surely no cup of tea, but Johnson’s first season with the Yellow Jackets had reached a pivotal point. Beat the Wahoos, and his personal brand would be stamped on football on North Avenue with the stands full of whooping patriots. Lose, it would be a bitter taste of gall.
This is not an old rivalry. Georgia Tech and Virginia only began to date each other regularly when they became fellow members of the Atlantic Coast Conference. Tech had learned that Johnson’s style could cut the mustard in this league when they played Virginia Tech down to the wire, a game Tech could have won. Of course, you throw out the Gardner-Webb debacle, a game this team sleepwalked through. But this one, this one was key. This was one not to lose.
Virginia had been humiliated by Southern California, on its own soil. And, you could include Connecticut on that list. Even Duke pitched in, and everybody had been beating Duke until David Cutcliffe came to town. But when Maryland, East Carolina and North Carolina fell in a row, there was something astir in Charlottesville. So, for Johnson to win this one would indeed let the rest of the ACC know there was a new boss in town.
Paul Johnson had established his style, the triple option, or whatever, and he was getting rave notices. And for the first quarter, all was going swimmingly. After that, it wasn’t easy to put your finger on something to brag about. For that matter, no one expected to see him resort to as many pure drop-back passes, and to see his players make as many errors, lose the football, dig enough holes to bury themselves, and in the end, the man from Newland — that’s in the Blue Ridge — confirmed it: “Turned the ball over … make enough mistakes in every area to lose the game twice over.”
OK, enough whining and blame-dispensing. It might have been noticed that the Wahoos did a few things right. That fellow Cedric Peerman, a senior running back from the town of Gladys, Va. — I swear by it — took charge of the offense. He is the first back to roll up 100 yards rushing on the Tech defense this season, with 127, to be exact. He was a whirling dervish. And the quarterback, Marc Verica, a redshirt sophomore, ran the offense like a coach on the field.
You check the scoring and you see something warped about it. The Jackets scored two touchdowns in the first quarter and must have felt rather pleased with themselves, for they never scored another. Somehow, it seemed the fire ran low in their furnace, and they just sort of snoozed into the intermission. There was a lot of unhappiness among the 47,416 paying customers, both with the home lads and the men in stripes. So to leave you with a sweet taste in your memory box, let me remind you of a game in 1990, when Virginia was ranked No. l in the nation, and Georgia Tech waltzed into Charlottesville and ruined the mood on the way to its own national championship.
Then, of course, the Hoos will remind you that they have won four of the past five games they’ve played, and this made five. Hang the other four goose-eggs on Chan Gailey.
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Vanderbilt valiant, but Dogs dazzle
The Atlanta Journal-Constitution
Athens — It isn’t easy being Vanderbilt. They call you the Commodores, which in some quarters is considered sort of snobbish. Everybody seems to want a date with your football team on homecoming day. Georgia is no exception. And it seems the Bulldogs have been having the Commodores more often than you might think. I have no book on it, but here they were again. I can’t say how many times it has happened, but I know that in the past 20 years, Vandy has beaten Georgia only three times, and two times the Commodores were the Bulldogs’ homecoming guests.
Two years ago audacious Vandy beat the Bulldogs here in Sanford Stadium, and last year were on the verge of making a streak of it, heading for the end zone when a rather careless Commodores ball-carrier lost the ball, the Bulldogs recovered and kicked a field goal and won in Nashville. “Carrying the ball like a loaf of bread,” a disgruntled Vandy alum said yesterday. I don’t remember the player’s name, but I do remember that it was hyphenated, which made it even worse.
Vanderbilt came into Athens this time with high hopes. I wouldn’t say the soothsayers offered the Commodores much encouragement. The Bulldogs were favored by two touchdowns, and they were close. The score was 24-14, Georgia won, and you can throw out the last three points. It bears out the fact that the Commodores didn’t come here to be homecoming bait. Georgia had been nesting on a 21-14 lead since early in the third quarter. With little time left and still down by a touchdown, the Commodores conceded nothing, and backed up to their own 26-yard line they had scoring on their mind, and in the process gave up the ball deep in their own territory.
All this did was allow Blair Walsh, Georgia’s placekicker, a chance to save face. He had missed twice inside the 40-yard line, quite unlike him, but this time he was straight and true from the 40. Thus, the saving of face.
It had been a rather close game through the first half, made even closer just before intermission, when McKenzi Adams, the Vandy quarterback, lofted a high floater that Jamie Graham fielded in the end zone on the end of an 18-yard touchdown pass. So, naturally, the Commodores went in for their respite feeling quite prosperous. Then, the Bulldogs came right back out and did what they have done so impressively this season.
Matthew Stafford began feeding the ball to Knowshon Moreno, the hottest name in college football delivery this season, then wafted a pass to this incredible freshman, A.J. Green from Summerville, S.C., for 33 yards, then pitched out to Moreno, who finished off a heartbreaking — for Vandy types — sweep for Georgia’s third touchdown, and a 21-7 lead. These are two names that are being etched into Georgia’s marble memories, and they’re only in the developing stage. It’s early yet to establish them on the same level as Charley Trippi and Frank Sinkwich, for they play in an altogether different age, but be assured that though the game has changed, the prescription for greatness hasn’t.
Though this was another homecoming date for Vandy, the Commodores were oblivious to all the worshipful old-grad combustion that accompanies such an event. Right now, the Nashville institution is considerably more concerned with retaining the services of their coach, Bobby Johnson, said to be leading Clemson’s coach-shopping list. He played football at Clemson, was an all-conference academic student, then had a most successful career as head coach at neighboring Furman University. While he is considered a Clemson man — he also did one year as an assistant there — by football credentials there are those who consider him a Furman man. But on this day, he was just another victim of another Georgia homecoming game.
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Once again pay tribute to Bobby Jones
The Atlanta Journal-Constitution
So much of history is swallowed up by the passing of time, but some events of significance cut their way through the daily headlines. One such of those took center stage at Atlanta History Center this week, an observance of one of Atlanta’s most celebrated citizens. Mainly in this section of the news Robert Tyre Jones Jr. is revered as an athlete, but I feel safe in suggesting that he was the most unusual athlete I have ever known. At the age of 28, after winning every major title there was to be won in golf, he retired. Then made films, was the motivating energy behind the most famous golf course in this nation at Augusta, practiced law, then suffered the indignity of a cruel disease that eventually took his life, almost a cell at a time.
Fifty years ago this weekend, Bobby Jones was honored in a way only one other American has ever known. He was summoned to St. Andrews in Scotland to receive what that lovely old town calls “Freedom of the City,” a reverential honor reserved for only. … well, this is how the presenting Provost described it: “We welcome an old an dearly beloved friend, not only as a golfer but a man of outstanding character, courage and accomplishment well worthy to adorn the roll of our Honorary Burgesses.”
Only one other American, Benjamin Franklin before him, in 1759, has received the honor, and none other since.
In Jones’ life, this represented a healing, for at St. Andrews, in 1921, as a petulant 20-year-old, he threw a fit, or as he put it, “the most inglorious failure of my golfing life.” Playing in his first British Open, he became so disgusted with his game that he picked up on the 11th hole, tore up his card and stalked off the course.
Now, to be honored in such a way, improbable.
He had redeemed himself in many ways. “Beginning with the puzzled dislike I had felt for the Old Course when I first played it in 1921, I had come to love it,” he said later. And so it was that on the Old Course in 1930 he won the British Amateur, which later he called “the most important tournament of my life,” and was summarily boosted off the course on the shoulders of Scottish celebrants. Thus, his yet unequalled Grand Slam was set in motion, the British Amateur and Open and the U.S. Amateur and Open.
His return in 1958 had a double purpose, as honorary captain of the American team in the first World Amateur Team Championship, and to be honored by the city of St. Andrews. By this time he had been handicapped for ten years and the deadly ailment known as syringomyelia was slowly sapping his life. But he made the trip, with family, and his walking sticks, a strenuous venture. The airliner lost an engine and had to turn back to Newfoundland, thus the Joneses arrived a day late. Younger Hall, at the university, was packed for the presentation. Jones would accept no assistance, but struggled to the podium by himself, whereupon his most emotional expression was this:
“I could take everything out of my life, everything except my experiences at St. Andrews, and I’d still have a rich and full life.”
The breach was officially healed. He was then driven through the throng in the hall, “people reaching out just to touch and say his name,” said his daughter, Mary Ellen, “then broke out singing ‘will ye no’ come back again,’ well knowing he never would.”
So we all sang it again Friday evening in the History Center, and celebrated the Golden Anniversary of Jones’ Freedom of the City, sealing it away in memory, never to be swallowed up by time.
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Francoeur: I will not fail again
The Atlanta Journal-Constitution
Spring training came early for Jeff Francoeur this year. (Or next year, as you see it.) As soon as he got off the Braves’ plane from Houston, he was on the road to Athens, where it would begin. Athens is where he checked in and went to work on his body with a physical therapist.
After a season of a .239 batting average, only 11 home runs and a disturbing number of strikeouts, he went in search of the former Francoeur who had brought many a crowd to its feet at Turner Field. His game had made some recovery in the closing days, to the point that he had been moved to cleanup in the batting order against the Astros. Then he struck out three times in the last game.
“What happened to me this year will not happen again,” he said, with a steely glint in his eyes. He had checked into the Disney World camp at a plumpish 238 pounds, a figure unbecoming him. He had been wed in the offseason and perhaps grew a little fat and happy as a husband.
“I weigh 218 now, always my game weight, and I’ve got to get the rest of me in baseball shape. Nobody looked forward to the end of this season more than I did.”
For the first time in his life he heard boos, in his hometown, from people who had once adored him. “I had never failed like I did this year. I’ve always succeeded in what I did. I’ve never known what it is to fail,” he said with feeling. “This will not happen again, I promise.”
Before the 2007 season, the Braves had offered Francoeur and catcher Brian McCann extended contracts for something like $24 million over six years (I don’t guarantee these numbers, but they’re close), a practice eschewed by John Schuerholz when he was general manager. Presumably, this was Frank Wren’s deal as Schuerholz’s successor.
McCann took it. Francoeur turned it down. There was speculation then that this was a situation that bore heavily on his sagging season, but don’t suggest that to him. “Not at all. I have more faith in myself than that. I’ve always succeeded in what I did. I’ve never been known to fail,” he said, in a voice firm and gritty. “I guess I took a lot for granted. If I could persevere through this, I can persevere through anything.”
After all the lifting and physical grind, he’ll move into some concentrated hitting exercises, tuning his swing toward the spring. “I’m looking forward to next spring right now,” he said. “I want to have a season my wife can enjoy more than this one has been.”
In other words, this is not just for himself, but all those out there who have become addicted to “Frenchy,” a hometown kid they had become attached to. They knew him first as a football star at Parkview High, and a chance at two careers on a major level — football on a Clemson scholarship, or baseball with the Braves and a gracious bonus. He is certain he made the right choice, and those who love him, and having been among the booers, feel the same way.
Can’t wait for the spring after the gloomiest season the Braves have had since 1990.
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Trying to put fire back in old rivalry
The Atlanta Journal-Constitution
This was once one of the classic college football series of the South. From the very first, in fact, when a quite ordinary Georgia Tech team knocked Duke out of a trip to the Rose Bowl in 1933. Oh, those Blue Devils were a powerhouse in those times. “Iron Dukes,” they were called, when games were won or lost by baseball scores.
Times have taken a harsh turn; oh, how they have turned. The Rose Bowl gets in line with all those other bowls, like a commoner, in this Bowl Championship Series. Conferences have been scrambled like eggs, old traditions wiped out. Geography cast to the winds. But Georgia Tech and Duke have kept up the tradition, faithfully making their annual date in the fall, though the old rivalry has long since run out of steam. Matter of fact, in the past 18 years, Duke has beaten Tech only twice. Meanwhile, the mighty Engineers haven’t been keeping up with the Joneses, or a lot of other old rivals they carried on with.
So they met again at Bobby Dodd Stadium/Grant Field on Saturday afternoon, carrying on in the faith, but this one had some new pizazz in it. Georgia Tech was panting over its new romance with Paul Johnson, and Duke was going ga-ga over having taken up with David Cutcliffe, who has had some high times — at Ole Miss and lately on Phil Fulmer’s staff at Tennessee. Tell the truth, Duke is already getting nervous about keeping him on campus. You’ve read the news of Fulmer’s travails, and the gossip is that should PF get the ax, Cutcliffe’s the Vols’ choice. You know, rumors.
Georgia Tech had been warned that this was not the same old Duke kind of team they’d become accustomed to taking to the cleaners for years. “We’re playing the Duke of 2008,” Darryl Richard, the senior spokesman, had warned. The Blue Devils were coming to town winners over Navy, Virginia and James Madison, and a heartbreak loser to Northwestern, a ranked team.
Well, for the first 30 minutes all the forewarning was looking legit. First place, Tech was starting an actual freshman, Jaybo Shaw, who’d had a bit of indoctrination, but today the saddle was on his back. Josh Nesbitt, still sitting out the injury he suffered against Mississippi State, never even suited up. The kid from Flowery Branch was put through the wringer in the first half, but did manage to stir up some offense between all the gaffes, throwing to Bay-Bay Thomas and handing off to Jonathan Dwyer. Each time the Jackets approached the end zone, they stepped on their own foot, kicked a field goal and were lucky to go to the break with a 3-0 lead.
By this time you are aware that they turned up the heat in the second half and put Duke to rest. Strange thing, Thomas was the only pass catcher Shaw could locate, and say this, Thomas had to be an acrobat on some of those catches. He collected 230 yards’ worth. Dwyer turned on the steam for 159 yards, and the defense finished its day’s work in style.
It was a peculiar match of coaching styles, and situations, not that Johnson came in to save a sinking ship, as did Cutcliffe at Duke. But both are putting together damaged programs and both have gotten away to good reviews. It’s obvious that Johnson has made the most of it, and neither spent a lot of time exchanging secrets after it was over. Their handshake lasted about 1.2 seconds, after which the two teams took to their knees and had a prayer.
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