Todd. People will come, Todd. They'll come to Bobby Dodd for reasons they can't even fathom. They'll turn up North Avenue not knowing for sure why they're doing it. They'll arrive at their gates as innocent as children, longing for Dodd, "Of course, we won't mind if you look around", you’ll say, “It's only around $800 for a pair of tickets in 223, and Mayhem at MBS.” They'll pass over the money without even thinking about it: for, as StinGTalk 80K’ers it is money they have, and peace that they lack, oh how they lack it. And they'll walk out to the bleachers; sit in navy and various wrong shades of gold on a hot 12pm September afternoon. They'll find they have reserved seats, perhaps some with stinger seats, where adults and children will have to climb over them if they have aisle seats, like GT65. And they'll watch the game and it'll be as if they dipped themselves in magic waters. The memories of Eddie Lee, Dewberry, Hamilton, Godsey, JfN, Roddy, JT5, Butker, will be so thick they'll have to brush them away from their faces. People will come Todd. The one constant through all the years, Todd, has been To Hell With Georgia. And it has rolled by like an army of steamrollers. The memory of Citadel has been erased like a blackboard. But Geoff has marked the time. Grant field, 1917, 1928, 1952, 1990, which came after 1980: it's a part of our past, Todd. It reminds us of all that once was good and that could be again. Oh...people will come Todd. People will most definitely come.
