I’m not superstitious. I’ve made an entire career out of my ability to think logically.
I was a software developer for twenty years, and more recently I’ve written a book called The God Conclusion, which applies logic to existential scientific evidence to reach a conclusion that completely conflicts with the claims made by Richard Dawkins in The God Delusion. I believe in luck, but certainly not the sort of luck required to make a fine-tuned universe from nothing, and living organisms from inanimate matter. Well, maybe I’m just a tiny bit superstitious, but not much.
For example, I’m not sure I really believe what I’m about to tell you, but so far the results of the experiment have been 100 percent success, so I’m not inclined to rock the boat by testing an alternative hypothesis at the moment. In short, I think I might be the Georgia Bulldog’s X-factor that has propelled them to two consecutive national championships and an unbeaten streak that is currently the longest in college football. And exactly how have I contributed to the team’s success? It’s simple, really.
At critical moments, when things appear to be darkest for the team, I stop watching the game. Usually, I storm away from the television and plop down in front of my computer, immediately opening a new browser window to ESPN so I can continue to follow the game. We have to be losing by at least one touchdown and the other team currently has the ball or appears to have it for me to walk away as nervous stress temporarily overwhelms me.
The first time this happened was the 2021 Championship game against Alabama, when Stetson Bennett tried to throw the ball away but was charged by the officials with a fumble deep in Georgia territory. Alabama scored a few plays later and I couldn’t bear to watch the final destruction of my favorite team yet again. Kind of like Charlie Brown as the placekicker with Lucy the holder, the outcome once again seemed predetermined, and Alabama would win again, not that many years after the infamous 2nd-and-26 play in overtime that won another national championship for the Crimson Tide and ripped my beating heart right out of my chest.
By the way, Tyler Simmons was on-side, but that wasn’t the worst call the officials made that night by far. That game remains one of the worst officiated contests I’ve watched in recent memory. D’Andre Swift nearly had his neck broken during a face mask penalty that wasn’t called. At least three Alabama players moved on the very same play where Tyler Simmons blocked the punt, which also would have negated the block but moved the ball back 10 yards toward Alabama’s end zone.
However, we don’t need to live in the past. Our present is doing really well, and the future looks fantastic. It’s water under the bridge, really because now I think I know the X-factor, the secret ingredient for every Bulldog victory, and better yet, I can control it. As long as I continue to stop watching the game on television when the Dawgs look like they are getting into serious trouble, Georgia may never lose another game (before I die).
When Alabama scored their touchdown in the most recent championship game because an attempted forward pass had been ruled a fumble, I stormed away in a fit of anger, sat at my desk and began to stew for several minutes. I couldn’t believe Alabama was going to win again, and the officials were playing a key role. I remembered Bryce Young looking like he fumbled early in the game and Nakobe Dean returning it for an apparent touchdown, only to have the play called back, and now an equally important call was also going against us. I couldn’t take it anymore, so I turned and walked away.
But lo and behold, about ten minutes later when I checked the score at ESPN, Georgia had already scored a touchdown to retake the lead, and they were driving again. I got back to the television just in time to watch Brock Bowers catch a touchdown pass to extend our lead. The rest of the game is history, and I was able to enjoy every minute of the celebration even though I hadn’t watched every minute of the game. I jumped around like a fool and screamed like an idiot after Kelee Ringo’s pick-six when it happened because I was back in front of my television, reveling in all the glory. I was able to watch when things got tight but had to walk away when it looked like we might lose.
At the time, it hadn’t even occurred to me that I’d done anything out of the ordinary or could have had an effect on the final outcome of the game by not watching at a crucial moment. Next came the Ohio State game at the Peach Bowl and once again, the situation was looking grim.
For the entire first half, I rode the emotional rollercoaster and suffered through every play…Georgia getting down by two touchdowns, coming back, and then falling behind once again right before the break. It was frustrating, but I didn’t want to abandon my team.
I didn’t snap until the flag was thrown on Javon Bullard and he was ejected from the game for targeting. In a fit of anger I stormed away to sit in front of my computer, but by the time I’d cooled off enough to check on the score, I saw the targeting call had been overturned and we’d managed to hold Ohio State to a field goal. Unfortunately, I was too late to see the Arian Smith touchdown bomb in real time, but I was content to watch replays about two dozen times to get my fill. I watched the final drive and sweated out the final field goal attempt, because the tide of the game had already turned by then. Ohio State would have had to make a terrific play to pull out a close victory in a great game, but Georgia won.
Of course, my efforts weren’t needed against TCU. But in two clutch games I’d stopped watching my favorite team, if only for a few minutes, and yet when I resumed watching, a massive momentum swing had occurred. I began to realize that when Georgia falls behind I must stop watching the game until my X-factor has had time to take effect. But this sounds crazy, doesn’t it? If this only happened twice, it could just be a coincidence, right?
Not so fast, my friend. I’m not done.
This season, the next time the X-factor took effect was against South Carolina, and it wasn’t even a conscious effort on my part. I had been disgusted by the first half and went onto Facebook to see how the Mad Dawg thread was being filled up by fair-weather fans like me, and didn’t realize the second half kickoff had occurred until Georgia had already scored, forced a punt, and was driving for the go-ahead touchdown.
And I thought to myself, hmmm. This is getting weird.
Then at Auburn, the X-factor effect seemed pretty unmistakeable after we fumbled on the first play following the second half kickoff and after Auburn scored we appeared to fumble on the following play, deep in our own territory. If Auburn had scored again to take a two-touchdown lead with less than thirty minutes to play, I started thinking we weren’t going to win. So I marched off to my computer. By the time I checked the progress, Georgia had the ball and was driving, still only down by one touchdown.
By my count that is four separate times during the past three years that when things looked bleakest I just turned away, even if only for a moment or two, and as soon as I looked back, things would be back on the right track. If once is happenstance and twice is coincidence and three times enemy action, four times must be an emerging pattern. I know it’s irrational to think what I’m doing inside of my home can impact what is happening in a football game being played miles away, but it’s also very difficult to argue with a pattern that has shown a 100 percent success rate thus far. There’s an old adage that says if it ain’t broke, don’t fix it. Hopefully I won’t need to walk away during any more games this season.
Look, I’m not looking for any medals or team awards or even to receive credit for my personal sacrifice, because from my viewpoint, I’m simply taking one for my favorite team. Players make plays; fans like me do stupid human tricks while suffering the delusion if we believe what we are doing it will help, but what if it does help? What if you don’t do it, and the pattern is broken? There is no logical reason for me to walk away from the television because Georgia has started losing a football game, but I will walk away because I’m afraid we might lose if I don’t. In my book I use statistics from scientific experts to calculate the probability that God exists as being greater than 99 percent, which is almost as good as 100 percent. Almost, but not quite.
That’s my story, and I’m sticking to it.
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