As a young conservative in the early ‘80s, I emulated Alex P. Keaton by wearing knit neckties to high school. (That sentence seemed significantly less shameful when I started typing it than when I finished it.)

In any event, I’m so on your side that I was on your side before you started being on your side--that, too, could have come out better—and I blame Ray Goff. Admittedly, I blame Ray Goff and/or Jim Donnan for everything. Global warming? The mortgage crisis? The fact that my years as a single man in Athens coincided with the era of “take back the night” man-bashing feminism rather than that of the gals-can-be-just-as-casual-about-this-sort-of-thing-as-guys stilleto feminism that followed it? All the fault of Ray Goff and/or Jim Donnan . . . but I digress.

You know how you can tell what season of “Cheers” an episode is from by observing whether Diane was on again or off again with Sam or Frasier? Well, you can tell what season a Georgia football game between 1989 and 1995 is from by observing Ray Goff’s sideline attire. Ray regressed steadily from casual to slovenly. By the end, he was rolling out of bed on Saturday morning, throwing on a sweatsuit he bought at the University bookstore, and slapping a cap atop his head to keep from having to comb his hair.

When the guy standing on the sideline looks like he should be sitting with the fans, that’s a pretty good indication that he should be sitting with the fans. Heck, in those portions of the student section reserved for block seating by fraternities and sororities, Ray wouldn’t have met the dress code on his best day.

Howard Schnellenberger still dresses for success and he turned Miami (Florida), Louisville, and either Florida Atlantic or Florida International (I could look it up, but bothering to learn the difference between two Sun Belt teams from the Sunshine State is as beneath an S.E.C. fan as bothering to memorize which A.C.C. teams are in the Atlantic Division and which are in the Coastal) into winners. Coincidence? I think not.

Although I’m a fan of neither the Buckeyes nor sweater vests, I’ve always respected Jim Tressel wearing a tie and button-down on the sidelines… Perhaps the sweater vest is just a vehicle for sporting a Nike logo while still dressing like a professional.

Are there any other modern coaches who always wear a tie? (Respect for still being employed in coaching, but I just can’t call Schnellenberger a “modern coach.”)

As a Greek man, I outdressed every single one of the coaches my freshman year with a coat and tie. I think it’s time CMR busted out some nice slacks (maybe red ones???) a blazer and a tie for a few late season games.

I must confess that my own personal dress code has degenerated significantly over the 17 years I’ve been a lawyer. I started out wearing suits about half the time (and other coat-and-tie the other half). Now, I rarely wear a tie to work unless I’m going to contact the “outside world” (deposition, meeting, court (of course)).

(By the way, when did it become acceptable to board an airplane in shorts, T-shirt, and sandals? As a litigator specializing in Georgia workers’ compensation defense (always welcoming new clients, btw), work travel does not require flight, as work will much more likely take me to Homer, Homerville, Douglas, Douglasville, Dawson, Dawsonville, Thomson, Thomasville, or Thomaston than to any place I’d likely fly. But when I do fly for work or pleasure, it pains me to step foot into an experience that is tantamount to riding a Greyhound bus with wings.)

Growing up, my mother (who had a modest upbringing in Gainesville, Georgia) spent summers with an aunt in Atlanta. This aunt, a stickler for appropriate dress and behavior, required hat-and-gloves for any trip outside the neighborhood (say, to Rich’s downtown), once my mom reached a certain age. When my mother attended the University, hat and gloves were de rigueur for football games. (Of course, girls were not permitted to wear shorts in public at any time per University rule, so some change can be good.)

During my father’s early professional life as an executive for a textile manufacturer, he went through two dress shirts a day, since his work required venturing outside of air conditioned offices. Those shirts were starched and pressed (I don’t mean the spray-on crap, either, but actual starch in the rinse). And since dress shirts were an investment and not some essentially disposable item you could pick up at Target for $25, they lasted. After a period of wear, the collar was “turned”—it would be physically detached from the shirt, flipped, and reattached in a procedure perhaps analogous to resoling shoes for longevity (assuming people still know what “resoling” means).

As for me, I wore a uniform to football games during my entire undergraduate career: with the Redcoats for two years, then with the fraternity block for two. I can assure you the uniform required for the latter was much more comfortable.

Now, I don’t want to turn back all clocks, but yes, I would regard it as a meaningful nod to tradition and to the seriousness of the task at hand if Coach Richt stepped up the dress code a few notches, at least from time to time.

As we all know it is about the sponsors, as previously mentioned. I doubt that Ray Goff was signing those contracts, it was probably Dooley. Unfortunately, I was a victim of those contracts. As a football manager, I was given and assigned clothes to wear during the games (during some of the darkest days in Nike’s history). We originally wore New ERA hats (I think) and a Nike collared-knit shirt and Nike shoes. The first year the shirts were pretty conservative and not that bad- white with a big red swoosh on the back and “UGA – Just do it!” or something on the place where the polo player would have been. Unfortunately, Nike also got the cap contract the next year and the had some horrible over-logoed hats; I think one of them had a swoosh on the front, a Bulldog on one side, a “G” on the other and said “Georgia” on the back- amazingly tacky (and embarrassing to wear). The shirts where just as bad as Nike tried to update the Bulldog and created a black, white and grey disaster with a huge wrap-around dog on it. Check games from 93-94. At that time, the only real perk was the pair of Nike Air Pegasus that I got for gamedays.

Basically, you would need Nike, Russell, etc., to agree to go with a subtle swoosh/logo on the pocket of a dress shirt to get them to go back to that look… or wear a sweater vest.

And I remember those awkward Nike years. That was some truly garish gear. However much pain we experienced looking at it, I can only imagine your having to wear it. Think of it as a character building experience.

But the more I think about it, the more I think it could work. After all, Nike is more than willing to churn out jerseys in all types of colors and styles during the offseason. I can’t imagine that they can’t devote a team of their Indonesian child workers to sewing swooshes on a dress shirt where the little polo player is on the one I’m wearing now (yuppie lawyers say what?). And let’s not even get into the ties. Can you imagine how many Alabama fans would buy the official Nick Saban crimson striped gameday tie? There’s merchandising to be done here.

i completely agree. because nothing says you are ready to get down to business more than an article of clothing pointing to your genitals.

and a lack of exercise eventually causes some fans’ ties to point in a more horizontal direction. A colleague of mine calls this new, belly-induced neckwear orientation “old lawyer’s syndrome”.

If Mark Richt runs out onto the field just prior to kickoff of the Georgia Southern game sporting a necktie and a goatee, I’m pulling out my cell phone and reserving a hotel room in Miami in January right then.

I don’ t think I’ve ever seen a picture of the man without a tie.

No actual excoriation on my part. I just needed another “old school” SEC coach’s name to throw in. And you’re right, Stallings probably showers in a tie. Plus, he was one of Bear Bryant’s “Junction Boys”, making him an automatic, do not pass go, do not collect $200, certified American badass.