Deflated Hurricanes

Ah, our men in orange and green. My closest friends and I shared their triumphs, beginning in January of '84, and lasting until '02. They won 5 (should have been 6 but for a historically bad call) championships, and we cheered them on.

We watched through 2 coaches, Shannon and Golden, who we thought would bring the program back, and instead pushed further into mediocrity. And then, three years ago, came another return of the native -- Mark Richt -- and we KNEW he'd be the one, even though he always produced good, solid, but never great teams at Georgia. And, this, his third year, might be the one. We were pre season ranked in the Top 10, other than a tough opener, which we lost in Texas, we would be favored to win every regular season game in a weak schedule. We just might slip back into the elite.

Well, last night those hopes fell with a thud. We played a mediocre team, Virginia, and played terribly. Richt, who calls the plays, seemed clueless. We scored all of two field goals until a late TD, but a quarterback Richt had benched, and then brought back.

No -- our beloved Canes are nowhere near elite. Another second tier bowl awaits. National championships? No way.

And you know what? It's ok.

As I age, the important part of college football is the bonding with friends. Last night, Mike came over, with a new type of vodka he found at Total Wine. His boy Chris came, too -- a second year law student at UM. I made martinis, and Chris had never tried one. I served him one, and told him the story that his late grandfather Ed bought me my first martini -- at Fox's Lounge, in about 1985. It became my drink then, and still is.

Chris didn't like the taste -- he's more of a beer guy. And that was the importance of the evening -- three Canes, and three good friends, talking of times past and to be.

Chris's girlfriend Rachel joined us -- she's an Emory grad, and getting a MPH degree from UM -- set to graduate in May.

Wifey made an appearance, and ate one slice (ha!) of pizza from Big Cheese, a Canes hangout that used to be a funeral home, and still good fodder for the fact that the pizza dough chills where corpses used to. And then Wifey went back upstairs.

The Canes had a chance to come back, but blew it on two stupid penalties. It struck me how absurd it is to let one's good mood rely on the actions of 19 year old inner city kids, and their often less than gifted coaches.

So we lost, and Mike, Chris, and Rachel left. Wifey was falling asleep, and I told her we lost.

I had a restless night -- maybe pizza and vodka after 9 pm isn't a good sleep inducer for this late 50s guy. This am Wifey asked if I slept poorly because the Canes lost. No, I laughed, that wasn't it at all.

So the season continues -- the next game is away at Boston College on the Friday I'm taking my family to a resort in the Hudson River Valley. I'll check the score at the hotel.

No rings this year, and if I'm honest --not likely under Mark Richt. We'll have a solid, above average team -- like they had at Athens, Georgia.

Maybe in our lifetimes we'll get another truly great coach -- like Alabama's Saban, or Ohio State's Meyer -- and we'll rejoin the elites.

But regardless, the fun comes in the cameraderie.  Tailgates and game watching together -- fans over the generations -- that's what makes the times so special.

And if we get to play and beat the Gators in a bowl this year , well, that would be pretty awesome, too.