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Saturday, October 27, 2007
From the start, this would be different
The Atlanta Journal-Constitution
Furman Bisher
Jacksonville — All these many years I have been watching Georgia-Florida football games, but never before have I come away feeling the need of a psychiatrist. It was the way it began, the way it reeled on into the twilight, one key play after another, until the point was reached when you felt secure that the 2-for-17 Bulldog depression was at an end.
Only twice in the past 17 games had the Bulldogs been able to win from the Gators in this Skirmish on the St. Johns. Then it was evident early that this would be no mere skirmish, this was all-out war. The dead giveaway came early, after Georgia scored the first touchdown, just minutes into the game. Florida had moved into Georgia territory, Tim Tebow conducting, when Asher Allen picked up a fumble and returned to Florida’s 39-yard line, and what was about to take place was like unwrapping a Christmas present.
The star of the evening shifted into gear with a modest 6-yard gain. It was the introduction of Knowshon Moreno, the redshirt freshman from New Jersey. Moreno right, Moreno left, Moreno up the middle and Moreno receiving. On a persistent drive to the 1-yard line, he reached out arm’s length, the ball like a trophy, for Georgia’s first touchdown. Then a surge of Bulldogs came from the sideline, the whole squad swarming Moreno and celebrating, no matter that yellow penalty flags filled the air. It cost the Bulldogs 22.5 yards, and gave the Gators such delicious field position that they scored an answering touchdown, and the duel was on.
It turns out, the usually mild-mannered Mark Richt had ordered the touchdown celebration, and as the game wore on, it was obvious, from that soldier-grim countenance on his face and the uncharacteristic gambles he ordered, that he had not come to Jacksonville Municipal Stadium to lose again. It was a case of Matthew Stafford doing his best Tim Tebow act, matching the celebrated Gator quarterback in every way. It was a kind of desperation, turning the ground game over to Moreno. For after injury to Thomas Brown and Kregg Lumpkin, he was the last running back left standing. He ran up a bank of 188 yards, scored three touchdowns and answered the call in every Bulldog emergency. When it was over, the final count of 42-30 blinking on the scoreboard, Richt found it fitting to give his star of the evening a big hug in the milling delirium on the field.
The Bulldogs stared trouble in the eye throughout the day-night hours, but never failed to have an answer. It was a give-and-take that had this crowd of 84,481 seething between agony and ecstasy. This was a Georgia team that had been blasted by Tennessee, lost a chess game to South Carolina and barely survived another Vanderbilt upset. On this evening by the river, the Bulldogs had the answers.
When Florida pulled within four points in the third quarter, and appeared to have regained its composure, the game turned into a tug of war. Then early in the fourth quarter, the Bulldogs emerged from a stretch of somnambulance with a jolting score. Stafford hit Mikey Henderson 53 yards away on the goal line and the score became 35-24. No lead was safe, though.
Tebow fired back, crashed in from 3 yards out, in a typical Tebow plunge. Now came the Bulldogs again, this time with what was probably the key play of the game, a 22-yard pass from Stafford to reliable Sean Bailey on third-and-12. On the Florida 48, the drive was revived and Georgia stretched its lead to what became the final score. And while the seating sections of Red reeled in happiness, the other half of the stadium reflected the blue hue of the Gators.
What Richt had done was carry through on a pledge, “that I was going to create enthusiasm whether they liked it not.” He had ordered the celebration after the first score and set the tone for the evening. “I wanted to make sure we left this game with our hearts on the field.”
The question is, how far will this go toward reviving the season that has had its sinking spells? Georgia hasn’t hit the field with such a show of defiance and made it last. This must be the signal that sets off the rush that gets the Bulldogs back in the race, surely not another false start.
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Dogs could have done without the foolishness
The Atlanta Journal-Constitution
Terence Moore
Jacksonville — So much for discipline, poise and class. They could return as staples of Georgia’s football program under Mark Richt, but it’ll take a while. They vanished on Saturday at Jacksonville Municipal Stadium, where the Bulldogs kept making fools of themselves early and often.
They were fools by choice. That’s the scary thing.
They were fools in victory. That’s the only thing that matters to most in the Bulldog Nation, especially since Georgia played out of its mind during the wildest game you’ll ever see to slay the Mighty Gators.
You can make a case that the Bulldogs had to be fools in this one if they wanted to end their phobia against Florida and if they wanted to keep their hopes of reaching the SEC championship game alive. What the Bulldogs were doing before in this highly overrated rivalry wasn’t working. I mean, it isn’t a rivalry when the other guy keeps knocking the red and black out of you.
So, with a 42-30 triumph in hand, the Bulldogs did a massive Lambeau Leap into the stands. They watched the normally subdued Richt take his highly expressive ways during the game into the aftermath with a passionate kiss of his wife, Katharyn, before 84,481 witnesses. The Bulldogs just went bonkers. After all, they’d lost 15 of 17, eight of nine and two straight to the Gators. Not because Georgia wasn’t as talented, but because Georgia wasn’t as tough.
That’s why the Bulldogs decided to become fools along the way to shocking Florida with a lot of running back Knowshon Moreno, the clutch play of quarterback Matthew Stafford and a defense that turned The Great Tim Tebow into only a good quarterback who spent much of the game scraping himself off the ground.
It’s just that you don’t have to become fools to do what you have to do to slay personal demons. Among the lowlights for what was one of the nation’s most composed teams under Richt, Georgia was penalized five times for personal fouls or unsportsmanlike stuff.
In the first quarter.
Once, two Georgia players were signaled for face-mask infractions on the same kickoff. There was Mohamed Massaquoi creating thousands of orange-and-blue boos after scoring a touchdown and doing his version of the Gator Chomp in the end zone. What triggered the silliness was Richt allowing his players to sprint from the sidelines moments into the game as if they’d never seen a touchdown before. That was when every one of the Bulldogs did their coach’s bidding by jumping and screaming and boogieing while smothering Moreno after he scored the game’s first points.
The Gators weren’t amused. The Bulldogs couldn’t care less, especially with their suddenly ruthless leader.
“Oh, Coach Richt told us during the week that, after we scored that first touchdown, you can have an excessive celebration,” said Georgia defensive end Marcus Howard, adding that Richt informed the team that he didn’t care about the 15-yard penalty that always comes from such an action. “That’s what everybody did [after Moreno’s touchdown]. They just ran out there and formed a big, old Dog Pile.”
Wonderful.
Apparently, when nobody was looking, a bunch of little green men descended from the cloudy north Florida sky to zap the real Mark Richt away in a spaceship.
Who was this Mark Richt?
This was the desperate Mark Richt, and he was coaching a desperate Georgia team, and you know what they say about desperate folks. They do all sorts of crazy things in an attempt to end their desperate ways.
Still, when contrasted with the Mark Richt of the previous six-plus seasons at Georgia, this was baffling, shocking, bizarre. Mostly, this was hypocritical. Just two weeks ago, when Georgia last played, a visibly peeved Richt threw a fit after a bunch of Bulldogs celebrated at midfield at Vanderbilt after the Bulldogs’ victory in the final seconds.
That was the real Mark Richt before the Bulldogs’ mission became to beat Florida no matter what. The thing is, an overly due Georgia bunch against the Gators could have done the same regardless, but we’ll never know.
The fools ruled.
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Playing ‘hardball’ no more at Coors
The Atlanta Journal-Constitution
Mark Bradley
Denver — The World Series was to resume Saturday night in the shadow of the humidor, and that in itself was pretty weird. The only previous collision between a device used for storing cigars and championship sports was when Red Auerbach was pulling one of his stogies out of storage to light up in celebration of another Celtic title.
The humidor here, for the uninitiated, is a walk-in closet just off the home clubhouse at Coors Field. It’s used to house baseballs, not cigars. It was built in 2002 out of desperation. The Colorado Rockies had simply grown weary of losing home games 13-12.
This was Clint Hurdle, the Rockies’ manager, speaking Friday of the humidor and its genesis: “Once they went through the scenario, it made perfect sense because I was like many people — I had no idea the balls were shrinking and getting harder. I was a hitting coach here, and some balls would get hit from time to time, and you’d go, ‘Oh, my. How did that happen?’ You would see the other teams hit, and you’d go, ‘Wow, I can’t believe that ball went out.’
“We kept attributing everything to the altitude, but through the astuteness of one of our employees in-house, the realization of the fact that balls are getting smaller, getting harder, they’re going farther — that adds to the complication of playing at altitude to start with. [Post-humidor] we could regulate that, just keep the balls regulation size.”
According to the Denver Post, the humidor was the brainchild of Coors Field electrician Tony Cowell, who’d come to work in dried-out leather boots after a hunting trip. From soggy shoes was a more uniform playing field created.
Hurdle again: “[It] has made the swing of home-road challenges much less. It’s given our pitchers, I think, a better foundation for confidence … The thing that was so challenging for so many years was you were never out of a game. That’s the way you felt. It’s not that you ever just turned it off and stopped playing, but every night, 81 times, [you’d be] six, seven runs down late and you’re thinking, ‘Hey, we can get this thing done.’ You’re continually grinding and grinding and grinding, and mentally it became very challenging and exhausting.”
But a little moisture-retention can go a long way. The humidor stores baseballs at 70 degrees and keeps them from hardening. The upshot: Home runs at Coors have dropped from 268 in 2001 to 185 this season. And the 2007 Rockies had a home ERA of 4.34, which was almost a match for their road ERA of 4.29. The place that pitching forgot is just another big-league ballpark, albeit a hitter-friendly one. (Credit much the Coors-generated offense now to the vastness of its outfield, which leads to a slew of doubles and cannot be remedied by a humidifier.)
Said Josh Fogg, who was to start Game 3 for Colorado: “When I was here a few years ago playing with the visiting team, the balls kind of felt like cue balls. If you play pool a lot, you [know how it feels when you] pick it up and it’s kind of slick and hard to get a good grip on it.”
In winning seven of their nine postseason games, the Rockies have pitched (3.33 ERA) better than they’ve hit (.229 batting average). Indeed, just giving their pitchers a chance is the reason they’re here. It used to be that nobody wanted to pitch in Colorado because nobody could pitch in Colorado, and that led the Rockies to overspend wildly for free agents ($172 million in one offseason for Mike Hampton and Denny Neagle, who together won 40 games for the franchise).
“Our pitching staff is dramatically improved over the staffs we’ve had here,” Hurdle said. Indeed, the Rockies led the National League in second-half ERA.
In baseball, it never changes. You can’t win if you can’t pitch. It took a humidor, installed for the modest price of $15,000, to change the course of a franchise.
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