So I had this buddy that lived in the next neighborhood. I was in sixth grade, he was in fifth. One day we were going through some old football programs in my basement, from the forties when my dad was a Tech fan as a kid. My buddy said, "Look, Georgia Tech vs. Michigan. My dad would be in that one." I told my buddy he was an idiot, but he recited his dad's name and position for the Wolverines, and there he was on the roster. Turns out my buddy's dad was a defensive lineman, went on to play for the Packers in the NFL. All I'd known was he was a nasty-tempered old guy to avoid.
One day my buddy got his puberty growth. ALL his puberty growth, basically all at once. We were on the school bus, and boom, he was twice my size, the buttons were popping off his shirt, and now he was nasty-tempered like his old man. He was no longer a wolverine but a fully accredited wolf. Why hadn't I seen this coming? For the last year I'd repeatedly called him an idiot, mostly because he was a year younger than me. Now I was very sorry. Very sorry.
We got off the bus, and he chased me all the way home, shouting threats he'd learned from his dad, in his new, Vin Diesel voice. I locked all the doors and windows, even blocked the chimney, but Teen Wolf stood outside and called me out, which of course also called the whole neighborhood out. In my neighborhood they loved beatings. Finally Mom said, "You know you gotta go out there. I mean, I could whoop him, but that wouldn't solve anything."
So I sighed, went outside, and accepted my beating. Fight lasted about three seconds. Mom was standing a few feet away, encouraging and exhorting, but it did no good. Actually made it worse. It was my moment of existential shame, a rite of passage that all self-loathers must endure.
Now I told you that story to tell you this one. What would be worse than a front-yard beating? Well, if the wolf had picked the lock to the kitchen door (even though it was a house made not of straw but of bricks) and come into my home with his whole family, all his friends, tons of 'em, and they were all decked out in swag with his image on it. My own family would have quietly left in shame, even my mom, and the house would be filled with this mutant kid's people, all partying and eating our food while he whooped me then let all his younger cousins whoop me.
THAT'S what Saturday will be like. Yes, I had to personally symbolize Tech in this allegory; a dirty job, but someone had to do it. The mutant kid is the 2021 Georgia Bulldogs, and we're all the partying onlookers. It's a home invasion movie, which is soul-extracting for the victims. No place is safe, nothing your momma can do. Enjoy, folks. I took that beating on your behalf.
One day my buddy got his puberty growth. ALL his puberty growth, basically all at once. We were on the school bus, and boom, he was twice my size, the buttons were popping off his shirt, and now he was nasty-tempered like his old man. He was no longer a wolverine but a fully accredited wolf. Why hadn't I seen this coming? For the last year I'd repeatedly called him an idiot, mostly because he was a year younger than me. Now I was very sorry. Very sorry.
We got off the bus, and he chased me all the way home, shouting threats he'd learned from his dad, in his new, Vin Diesel voice. I locked all the doors and windows, even blocked the chimney, but Teen Wolf stood outside and called me out, which of course also called the whole neighborhood out. In my neighborhood they loved beatings. Finally Mom said, "You know you gotta go out there. I mean, I could whoop him, but that wouldn't solve anything."
So I sighed, went outside, and accepted my beating. Fight lasted about three seconds. Mom was standing a few feet away, encouraging and exhorting, but it did no good. Actually made it worse. It was my moment of existential shame, a rite of passage that all self-loathers must endure.
Now I told you that story to tell you this one. What would be worse than a front-yard beating? Well, if the wolf had picked the lock to the kitchen door (even though it was a house made not of straw but of bricks) and come into my home with his whole family, all his friends, tons of 'em, and they were all decked out in swag with his image on it. My own family would have quietly left in shame, even my mom, and the house would be filled with this mutant kid's people, all partying and eating our food while he whooped me then let all his younger cousins whoop me.
THAT'S what Saturday will be like. Yes, I had to personally symbolize Tech in this allegory; a dirty job, but someone had to do it. The mutant kid is the 2021 Georgia Bulldogs, and we're all the partying onlookers. It's a home invasion movie, which is soul-extracting for the victims. No place is safe, nothing your momma can do. Enjoy, folks. I took that beating on your behalf.
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