Because Augusta lies on the border of Georgia, with only the narrow Savannah River separating it from South Carolina, the night before the UGA vs USC game, the Border Bash takes place. Fans from both teams cheer on the cheerleaders and mascot from each team.
People get in line to get autographs from a man in a chicken suit.
Young children yell cruel things at the opposing team's fans.
Women in short shorts and stockings from Hooters pass out small footballs and calendars to the children and their fathers.
I could not feel more out of place. It all seems so absurd, which makes the spectacle more fun to witness. Growing up in Columbia, SC, I went to USC games. Going to UGA, I photographed UGA games. The craze and passion and drunken foolishness borders on the edge of an annoyance to me. The roar of the crowd in the games is amazing. The mad dashes and bashing of skulls on the field is admirable. Yet, the stealing from tailgaters and drunken fighting following the game disgusts me.
I mean, what if people put this passionate energy toward poverty? What if people put on their war paint and got this excited about volunteering at a soup kitchen? Never, right? Why not?
I'm not saying football is a waste of time--heck, the craze for college football is a southern tradition--but mustering up enough passion about a team that you would yell obscenities at girls with pom poms seems off.
(and if i had to hear ONE more beautiful Sarah Palin/ugly Hillary Clinton joke from the stage, no less, I would have screamed.)
in the end, my alma mater beat my hometown. 14-7.