Friends of late have been filling my inbox with recruiting information. I am fully aware of how important recruiting is to a football program's success. It's isn't hard to look at five years' worth of recruiting rankings and determine which programs you'll most likely find residing in the top 15 of the polls over the same period. You gotta have the Jimmies and Joes to go along with the Xs and Os.
That being said, I don't care what Bryce Ramsey did on Friday night. God bless the kid. I hope he has a great season, I hope he wins the state title and more accolades than his bedroom wall has room for. I hope he stays solid on his commitment to Georgia, and I hope his girlfriend gives him "star treatment" after every win. But, I don't care. I'm not paying attention to it. I'm not combing every statistic and reading every half-written article about his performance hoping to glean a little insight into what his career as a Bulldog will be.
Why? Because I've been around football long enough to know that what you do when you're 17 does not dictate what you do when you're 21. What you do at Camden County does not dictate what you'll do in Death Valley. By all accounts, many of the recruits for Georgia's 2013 class are "the real deal"...something I believe I read practically every season. Then comes attrition, and injuries, and non-qualifiers, and thugish behavior like driving around with unregistered weapons.
I think I've gone on record enough times stating that what I care about is Georgia Football...and Georgia Football, for me, exists in the time period between game one and our bowl game every season. It exists on a 100x53.33 yard field. It exists in the space between 15:00 in the first quarter and 00:00 in the fourth (and the infinite clock and down makers of college OT). That's Georgia Football to me. Until a recruit dons the red and black, runs out of that tunnel, steps of the sideline, and performs in a game, he doesn't have an impact on my life.
When he does, though, I'll cheer as loudly for him as anyone else in the stadium/bar/living room where I watch the game. At that point, he's not only a bulldog, but He's My Dawg ... and I love the kid.
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Agreed. Also I wish folks would stop dissecting every single phrase from CMR, Bobo, Artie Lynch, et al.
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