Jeff Doke

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Proud Gator Hater

By: Jeff Doke

TheSouthernSportsEdition.com news services

I was born and raised in the United Methodist church.

In fact, I currently serve as Assistant Pastor at the very church I grew up in. My parents made sure that I was, among other things, raised with a strong sense faith.

Of course, they were responsible for raising me as a member of Dawg Nation, and thus responsible for one of the great incongruities of my life.

You see, in Mark 12:29-31, Jesus tells us that the Greatest Commandment is to ”love the Lord your God with all your heart and with all your soul and with all your mind and with all your strength.“ And to “love your neighbor as yourself.”

There’s the problem – I can’t completely do that. I just can’t do that for the sole reason that the Florida Gators exist.

I HATE the Gators. Always have. With every fiber of my existence, with every breath I draw, down to every quark, neutron, positron, electron, atom, and molecule that makes up my mortal form. Hate, hate, hate ‘em.

The host of one of my favorite Dawg-centric podcasts (and I listen to a lot of them), says that every good Dawg fan is first and foremost a Gator hater. Boy howdy, do I agree with him. Nothing but contempt for those lousy, stinkin’ Gators.

I hate their color scheme. To be fair, I have a distaste for orange-clad sports teams in general, but blue and orange especially (lookin’ at you, Mets…).

I hate their uniforms. I don’t care if it’s their standard home and aways, the word mark helmet kit, their ‘60s block letter throwbacks, those stupid alligator skin pattern monstrosities, or this year’s black helmets (“Oo! Black helmets? How CREATIVE! <end sarcasm>”).

I hate their mascots. Albert AND Alberta. Take a mascot, give him an opposite gendered partner, and you’re just half a step from parading Furries on your sideline for all the world to see. Ew. And they’re wearing orange and blue? Double ew. (Again, lookin’ at you, Mr. & Mrs. Met…)

I hate the Steve Spurrier years. I hate the Ol’ Bawl Coach and his stupid visor. Visors are for tennis courts and golf courses, and this deviant made them mainstream for football sidelines. I hate that painful 11-1 streak he put up against us in the ’90s.

I REALLY hate the fact that after that, he had the audacity to give the Gamecocks hope. That’s just cruel.

I hate the Urban Meyer years. I hate that he was able to ride Spurrier’s coattails (well, at least what coattails were left after Ron Zook) and get Gator fans two more Nattys, making them even more unbearable than before (I know, I didn’t think that was possible either).

I REALLY hate the fact that after that, he had the audacity to give the Jaguars hope. Again, just cruel.

I hate what coaching there did to Will Muschamp. I know it was that swamp water still sludging through his bowels that made him disrespect the hedges the way he did when he was at Carolina (again with the giving hope to the Gamecocks…YOU MONSTERS!).

I hate Gator fans. I actually dated a girl once who went to UF during the Spurrier era. She admitted that the students didn’t care about the actual game at the WLOCP since they knew they were going to win anyway and just wanted the excuse to drink off campus.

I still regret that one.

Regardless, there are still some things I love about UGA’s biggest rival (definitely NOT lookin’ at you, Tennessee…). I love the fact that Georgia still leads the series all time 54-44-2.

I love the fact that UGA is coming into this year’s matchup ranked #1 in the nation for back-to-back years.

I love the fact that Florida keeps hiring booger-eatin’ morons as head coach like Dan Mullen & Billy Napier, pretty much guaranteeing that the numbers on my “Days Since Florida’s Last National Championship” calendar keep going up (5,034 as I write this, in case you were wondering).

And I love that my mama raised me right. She raised me to be a Gator hater.

 

 

The River

By: Jeff Doke

TheSouthernSportsEdition.com news services

It has been said that you won’t get recruited to play college ball if you play at a small private school with less than 400 students.

Jordan Triplett’s texts at 12:01am on September 1st would say otherwise.

“We had been sending out stats and video clips for years, knowing that no one could reply,” says the Junior phenom running back from Frederica Academy. “At the end of last year, I was really wondering if anyone was watching. (Frederica Head Coach) Brandon Derrick just said to be patient. When midnight on Sept 1st hit, it exploded. It was such a relief.”

“Coach Derrick just said ‘told ya so.’”

Nicknamed “The River,” the Class of 2024 offensive star of the Knights has been putting up staggering numbers since his freshman year. Thrust into the starting role in the fourth game of the year, he never looked back.

In his first start against Brantley County, Triplett put up a staggering 163 yards on 26 carries. By the time the year was over, Jordan was the #1 RB in the nation for his graduating class.

“All this time, I knew I was putting up the numbers but I wondered what I was missing?”

It seems all he was missing was time. September 1st was the first day that college coaches could reach out to high school juniors in regards to recruiting. As soon as the clock hit midnight, Triplett had a good idea his work was going to pay off.

“The first message that came at midnight was from Mercer,” says his father, Mark Triplett. “Then came Princeton, then Dartmouth. Florida Atlantic invited him to Junior Day & their invite only camp. The next morning there were a dozen schools in just the first day.”

As of three weeks later, a total of 15 schools have reached out, including Georgia Southern, Vanderbilt in the SEC, Iowa State in the Big 12, UConn from the AAC, and a laundry list of Ivy League & service academy squads; Princeton, Harvard, Dartmouth, Penn, Air Force, and Army.

Of the schools that have reached out so far, Jordan, his dad, and his mom all have their favorites (although they won’t be revealed here).

“Yes, I have a preference, but honestly I don’t think past the scholarships,” according to his mom Becky, a teacher at Frederica Academy. “Jordan wants to play, and mom doesn’t want to have to pay for it if she doesn’t have to,” she said with a smile.

The Ivy League schools aren’t a stretch for Jordan. He currently has a 4.2 GPA with a full load of AP classes.

“I’ve got to give that credit to mom and dad. We knew I wasn’t going to be the fastest or the biggest, but they knew that if I was a little good at football but had the academics, I’d have a chance to go play at the next level at some of the finest schools in the country.”

His father has been not only his biggest supporter and chauffeur, but his social media hype man as well.

“I’ve been doing this for a while,” says Mark. “Frederica has a small staff, no designated recruiter like some schools. I was really excited that over the last year that we sent out all these questionnaires and film, not knowing what they think about it since they couldn’t reach out. Then on the first day to finally hear from 12-15 teams that did like it, it was confirmation.”

Jordan obviously appreciates the effort.

“It’s funny, when I heard from Iowa State, I was like ‘how did THEY hear about me?’ and Dad said ‘I filled out a recruiting questionnaire.’ I said ‘when?’ He said ‘Ninth grade.’”

Jordan does have an as-of-yet unnamed dream school. They’ve made no official contact with him, but they have spoken to Coach Derrick about coming to a game.

The final goal is, of course, setting himself up for a chance at the NFL.

“I remember sitting in my bed in Montana with my six Cam Newton FatHeads, telling mom I was going to play in the NFL while jumping into a Carolina Panthers bean bag. I’ve always had that dream. Mom and Dad have driven me to all these camps, spent all that registration money. I’m going to have to eventually mow the lawn a lot.”

If the next six years go as planned, he’ll be able to buy them a new house to go with that lawn.

Rotten Bananas

By: Jeff Doke

TheSouthernSportsEdition.com news services

Last month, the Savannah Bananas took off the mask.

The collegiate semi-pro team from Chatham County announced that they are abandoning their league affiliation and will be taking “Banana Ball” nationwide.

This move proves what I’ve been saying all along; the Bananas are a sideshow with a baseball game playing in the background.

Don’t get me wrong, I know I’m in the minority here. Everyone in America seems to be enamored with the Bananas. From ESPN specials and viral video clips, it seems that the yellow-clad sub-minor leaguers are everyone’s darlings. The saviors of baseball, some are even heralding.

Friends of mine from across the country are asking me what a game is like, and even non-sports fan friends are singing their praises. They seem genuinely surprised when I tell them I’ve never been to a Bananas game, nor do I have any desire to go to one.

My disdain for this whole situation actually goes back to my time in middle Georgia back in the late ‘90s. For most of the Atlanta Braves’ magical run from 1991-2005, their Class-A affiliate was a South Atlantic League team known as the Macon Braves.

Shady dealings and monetary disagreements with the local politicos led to the South Atlantic League team moving to Rome, Georgia in 2002. City leaders went on record saying that they were certain it wouldn’t be long until Minor League Baseball returned to the Heart of Georgia.

Fast forward to a decade later, where I was a season ticket holder for the Savannah Sand Gnats. Shady dealings and monetary disagreements with the local politicos led to the South Atlantic League team moving to Columbia, South Carolina in 2016. City leaders went on record saying that they were certain it wouldn’t be long until Minor League Baseball returned to the Coastal Empire.

Sounds familiar, doesn’t it? Money-grubbing, power-hungry local officials under-estimating how difficult it truly is to not only get a MiLB franchise, but to get one after letting one go.

Since 2002, Macon has seen four unaffiliated semi-pro teams call Luther WIlliams Field home, three of them lasting a season or less.

The Bananas, on the other hand, started play the year after the Gnats became the Fireflies. Historic Grayson Field welcomed a new franchise that apparently didn’t mind the facilities that were substandard by any modern benchmark.

Grayson was a big part of why the Sand Gnats wanted a new stadium before they decided to leave in the first place; no in-house laundry, no in-house weight room, an outfield that often looked better prepared for the mud ‘rasslin’ portion of the Redneck Games to make a visit from Dublin than it did for a baseball game.

Kinda surprised the Bananas didn’t bring that to fruition.

That’s what the Bananas are. Sports entertainment, not a baseball team. They, especially now that they’ve gone full Globetrotter, are but half a step up from professional wrestling. There’s entertainment and there’s sideshows, often at the expense of the actual sport that’s allegedly being played. And that’s why I could never get on board.

The history of baseball in Savannah is long and rich, with championships dating back to 1906. With the Bananas’ disaffiliation from the Coastal Plains League, Savannah will be bereft of true competition on the diamond with no chance of raising another championship banner for the foreseeable future.

And that’s what really gets me. Call me a dinosaur, call me an old fogey, call me what you will (as long as it’s not “boomer.” I’m GenX, fer pete’s sake…), but I prefer my baseball to be just baseball.

There’s nothing wrong with nine frames, nine starters and the dugout, the seventh inning stretch, and a Sunday afternoon doubleheader with the occasional race against a goofily-costumed mascot between innings.

And now, thanks to the Banana Era in Savannah, Southeast Georgia is even further away from getting a real, affiliated minor league team to root for.  At least here in the Golden Isles we can travel south and see the Jumbo Shrimp.

Oh, and stay the heck offa my lawn. Lousy punks.

 

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