I ought not to put words in Coach Richt's mouth, but this is how I feel about our ranking, and how much I wish I was going to JAX this weekend. 

From Shakespeare's Henry V. The great speech of Saint Crispin's Day, shamelessly stolen on behalf of my Dawgs.

EVERY GEORGIA FAN ON THE INTERNET:
O, would that we now had
But one tithe of Boise’s rank
That do no work since that day we met!

COACH RICHT I
What's he that wishes so?
My faithful fans? No, dear fans:
If we are mark'd to fall, two-and-twenty
Is rank enough to do us shame; and if to stand,
The less esteemed, the greater share of honour.
God's will! I pray thee, wish us not upon the polls.
By Jove, I am not covetous for gold,
Nor care I a whit for lake-homes fair;
It yearns me not if men my garments wear;
Such outward things dwell not in my desires:
But if it be a sin to covet triumph,
I am the most offending soul alive.
No, faith, my fans, have not fame of them that run
The BCS! I would not lose so great an honour
As as a digit more, methinks, would share from me
For the best hope I have. O, do not wish one more!

I pray you, rather gird thee for the trip.
For now we come to Jacksonville, and every man
Who shouts him from the bleachers in that place
Is blood in my men’s veins, and black and red
In seats in that accursed hall makes mightier
Those who wear the same colours on the turf.
Now proclaim it, fans and boosters all, through my host,
That he which hath no stomach to this fight,
Let him not come; he may swill the beer at home
And see the deeds of braver men in definition high :
We would not lose in that man's company
That fears his fellowship to lose with us.
This day is called the greatest cocktail party:
He that outlives this day, and comes safe home,
Will stand a tip-toe when the day is named,
And rouse him at the name of eleven-and-twenty.
He that shall live this day, and see old age,
Will yearly on the vigil feast his neighbours,
And say 'To-morrow is the nine-and-twenty of October:'
Then will he load a scene produced by CBS,
And say 'That is me, that hat and paint, in Jacksonville
O, the day the Bulldogs won in Jacksonville.’'

Old men forget: yet all shall be forgot,
But he'll remember with advantages
What feats they did that day: then shall their names.
Familiar in his mouth as household words
Mild Mark the coach, warlike Grantham,
Murray and Mitchell, Crowell and the man Walsh,
Be in their foaming mugs freshly remember'd.
This story shall the good Dawg teach his son;
And shall ne'er go by the great cocktail party,
From this day to the ending of the world,
But those who go to it shall be remember'd;
We few, we happy few, we band of brothers;
For he to-day that follows I-95 with me
Shall be my brother; be he ne'er so vile,
Or even from the State of Alabama,
And civil men in Athens who read or work
Shall think themselves accursed they were not here,
And hold their manhoods cheap whiles any speaks
That rolled with us upon October Twenty-nine.