On Saturday Night, the Crimson Tide of Alabama went to Athens to play the University of Georgia.

UGA (the school, not the dog) decided to have a "blackout", meaning that the team would wear their black jerseys, and the fans would wear black as well. The idea was that this would give an ominous impression to the visiting team and make them nervous.

The Tiders, in response, decided to do a "whiteout", which meant that they would wear white (fans and players). I didn't notice any real difference in the stands, but we were definitely doing a WhiteOut at Floyd and Angela's place -

               

(In case you're wondering who that pregnant girl is - that is Angela, the Girl Without An Internet Face. It seems that advanced stages of gestation actually allow her face to be photographed; I think it has something to do with estrogen levels (doesn't EVERYTHING have something to do with estrogen levels?))

So, from your left to right, that's Floyd (nee' Davey), Angela, some really good-looking bald guy with a cool hat, Silas Lars Olaf Puckettsen, and Ethel. We were down at Floyd and Angela's house, watching fuhbawl - first the Auburn-Tennessee snoozefest (would somebody teach those folks how to execute on offense?) and then the barnburner in Athens.

The first half of the 'Bama game was stricly dreamlike in nature - I kept waiting for the alarm to go off so that I would wake up. Were we REALLY up 31-0 on the number three team in the nation at halftime? I was grinning so big I looked like a piano with lips...


                      

....we got sore throats from singing 'Yea, Alabama" every time they scored.

As it happens, the alarm DID go off, during halftime - but it didn't wake me up. It woke up the Georgia team, instead, and they came out to execute a noble comeback effort, indeed.

But it was not to be, and 'Bama won it in such a way that the score seems much closer than the game ever was, 41-30.

I was hoping that we could hurry up and lose this game, and then we could have a nice, normal football season, and just keep trying to hold onto a hope of winning the SEC West - or, failing that, maybe beat Auburn. But it just didn't work out that way - the commentators were unanimous in declaring that "Bama's Back!" and they were getting each other all worked up.

Floyd and I, of course, refused to drink the Kool-Aid, and maintained our casual, relaxed aplomb regarding the season's expectations:

                         

                     
by the time Ethel and I got to bed, the pundits were already anointing the Crimson Tide as the #1 or #2 team in the nation, and Coach Saban was trying to calm folks down - reduce the hype, manage expectations. He made a statement in an interview that will probably be chiseled on his tombstone:

"I know I may not look like I'm happy, but I'm happy".

Ethel spent most of Sunday sitting in the living room, reading quotes aloud from various websites and articles exclaiming how great Alabama was. I simply could not get her to shut up; she doesn't seem to understand that the Football Gods frown on that sort of hubris. Turns out that we were listed as #2 in the AP Poll, #4 in the Coaches' Poll.

Fact is, the polls don't mean a thing right now. At some point, they might determine if we got into a BCS bowl, but there is a lot of football to be played in the meantime - and nothing is surer to keep us from doing well than believing that we are doing well. I just don't believe that "affirmations" work in football; it's darn difficult for me to imagine Bear Bryant saying to himself "I'm good enough, I'm smart enough, and - doggone it - people LIKE me!"

Let's all just settle down and see if we can get through the season 8-4, shall we?...okay, okay - 9-3, then.