If walls and chairs and blades of
fake turf could talk, the ones at the Georgia Dome would be yakking for days
about the fun they had.
As it is, plenty of humans can't
stop talking about the remarkable event that took place Saturday afternoon and
evening, between those walls on the turf and with chairs filled.
The SEC championship - and
championship almost understates it - will live on, to be replayed and relived
and maybe repressed for awhile.
You do everything but win the
game, and it'll leave a mark. We tend to save the "shame somebody had to
lose" for high school athletes and younger, but it fits. It was pretty
glorious to watch if you didn't care who won.
Well, other than wanting the team
you picked, because you want to be right.
Georgia did hurt itself with a
few penalties of recent years, mental lapses that Alabama certainly knew the
Bulldogs might have. And yes, Alabama got away with unnecessary roughness late
in the first half. The 15 yards would have started that Alabama drive on its
own 38 instead of Georgia's 47. But the defense still had chances to prevent a
first down on that field-goal drive regardless of the field position.
For all of the debate regarding
the conclusion, a simple mistake three minutes earlier was the decider.
Alabama was still gashing Georgia
on the ground, and just when one figured that would continue, one remembered
that this was Alabama. The Tide wisely decided it was time for a changeup even
with the fastball still humming and hitting the corners.
Cornerback Damian Swann lined up
20 yards from the ball, yet looked away from his man to the snap, and Amari
Cooper blew by him for a frighteningly easy 45-yard touchdown. The problem was
that no matter Alabama was doing, no cornerback was going to make a stop on an
off-tackle run. And no team around makes you pay for that as much as the Tide.
It was a fundamental mistake that, frankly, Alabama tends not to make.
Georgia paid. Came shockingly
close to recovering, but didn't.
And that final play, goodness.
Georgia receiver Chris Conley
blames himself for doing what he's taught, catching the ball. As it was,
intended receiver Malcolm Mitchell was smothered at the goal line. Three
Alabama defenders were in the region, one on Mitchell and one on Conley and one
in between. Plus Georgia went to the shorter side of the field, a limitation.
Had C.J. Mosely not tipped it,
the best case was an incompletion or maybe - but highly unlikely - pass
interference, which still takes time. The worst case, and possible, is an
interception.
So the question will remain about
spiking it. Georgia lost almost six seconds from the spotting of the ball to
the snap, and Conley went to the ground with six seconds left, and that was it.
Head coach Mark Richt offered a
somewhat baffling, "Spiking the ball takes time" and thus cemented
pretty much the most second-guessed decision in his career.
Sure, spiking takes time, but it
will never take as much time as a play. There are no tipped or intercepted
spikes, and no receivers can fall down or slip.
There is, of course, logic to the attempt and
hope of catching Alabama on its heels even more, or keeping the Tide from
substituting. Considering how surgically the Bulldogs had moved down the field
on a drive that was becoming legendary, there is definite and clear logic to
it.
And substantially more logic
against anybody else in America than Alabama. It's been said time and time
again, here and on pregame shows and all over: when it comes down to it, who do
you trust?
Alabama. The Tide have made those
plays on this stage.
Unfortunately for Georgia, it was
the second most logical call, and to criticize Murray for not taking it on his
own and spiking is to certainly grasp no understanding of the pressure on the
22-year-old.
That might be a bit much to ask.
It just seems as if there's no
real negative to spiking. Sure, Alabama gets settled, but so does Georgia,
which isn't in this position regularly. Maybe there's a play utilizing space
more, like the tight end, who certainly wasn't going to be blanketed in that
situation. An aside: tight ends are remarkably underutilized. Georgia got to
the 8 because of tight end Arthur Lynch. Alabama was not going to focus on him
down there, and as it was, the middle of the end zone was wide open.
A spike also gave Georgia a
chance to plan for a final snap with a second or two left.
There are limitations offensive
and defensively on the 10. The shorter field decreases the playbook
drastically, and also allows for little chance defensively to make up for a
mistake.
And again - sorry, but this is
the bottom line - when it comes down to it, who do you trust?
You trust Alabama more, and there
is yet another example.
Certainly it's not to say Georgia
would score, but a chance to think for a few seconds seems fairly prudent. Take
a look back at the final drive. Georgia easily - OK, not easily, but almost
easily - could have gotten three plays off in 15 seconds. The final play itself
took four seconds from snap to down.
As it was, the Bulldogs came up
with a heartbreaking 8-play, 80-yard, 68-second drive that will live - and hurt
- forever.
Lost a bit in the final 15
seconds is another management issue, calling a defensive timeout with 4:01 left
is an issue.
It came before a third-and-5 at
midfield., and Georgia was running two players onto the field about 15 seconds
after the ball had been spotted, and while Alabama was still in the huddle. The
Tide offense was barely set, and 10 seconds were on the play clock - Alabama
was going to snap it with only a couple seconds left - when Georgia called
time.
Defenders were in place, and
there 11 on the field.
Alabama got another first down
run after the timeout, and then won the game a play later with that pass.
What took so long to decide who
to have on the field?
One can always get yards and
plays, but one can't get time or timeouts back, and Georgia thus entered that
final drive with only two.
Granted, nobody can see into the
future - one doesn't expect a cornerback 20 yards from the ball to worry about
making a stop on an inside run - and all, but that looked like a savable
timeout and a typical case of drastically overthinking something.
For all of the plays both teams
misfired on, it's the vision of Alabama's running game that still blocks out
the final seconds or blown coverage. The Tide ran for 350 yards, 6.9 yards per run.
That's fairly monstrous. That's
the bottom line. Alabama answered Georgia, and with good ol' big boy football.
And, of course, the final debate is the
unwinnable one.
Georgia lost in an instant
classic against the nation's top program of the past five years. Georgia hasn't
been in that game, hasn't been on that level.
And there remains, well, that
faction that doesn't care. Georgia lost, Mark Richt sucks. When will Georgia
fire him and do better?
Because, of course, there are
such guarantees.
Yeah, we'll save that for another
day.
Having heard that blather, and
having agreed with some of its to a point, I know this:
If I'm a Georgia fan, I hate the
loss but love the game and effort and statement, and ask that those who say
that the game and effort and statement are nothing display their flawless
resumes.
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