On a crisp, cool Sunday night, the Munson family was in mourning. The Voice of the 'Dawgs, Larry Munson, passed away from complications from pneumonia. Munson had been declining in health over the years, from birthday health scares to his last days on God's Green Earth. The Bulldog Nation had known it in their hearts that Munson wouldn't live much longer, but his passing left us bewildered with a sour heartbeat in our chests. When Mr. Munson passed, it left an effect on Athens that would be remembered forever.
The team was in a meeting on Sunday evening in the locker room. Todd Grantham, the defensive coordinator, was going over some packages, when Mark Richt, the head coach, walked in. Richt said disturbingly, "Larry Munson died". Most of the team didn't know who Munson was, but they soon would. Grantham didn't know who he was, but he soon would too. Only Mike Bobo, the offensive coordinator, of all the coaches other than Richt knew him. The team quickly gathered in whispers. "Who's Larry Munson?" asked one guy. "Was he a famous man?", asked another. One player knew.
Aaron Murray stood up and walked up to the front of the room, standing next to Grantham. "He's a legend," said Murray. "He is the greatest Bulldog there ever was, but he never scored a touchdown. He never set a record. He was never a player. He was a commander, but not on the field. In the press box. Every Saturday, up until about 3 years ago, Georgia players would take the field, and notice the press box up there always had one man in it all the time. Larry Munson." Murray ended his speech and sat on the bench next to Grantham. Mark Richt quickly joined him. "He was the one who let everyone know what we did. He'd give the call to them all, good or bad." Richt motioned to Grantham and Murray, and the team joined in prayer. After the long prayer, the team disbanded. Grantham stopped what he was teaching and left, with all the other coaches.
A father of a small family in Athens was walking to work. It was 7:00 A.M. on a cold Monday morning. "It wasn't supposed to be this cold today", he thought to himself. His office was two blocks away from his home in downtown Athens. He was walking briskly and seemed to be in a joyous mood. The Bulldogs had punched their ticket to Atlanta, and he found out that morning that his friend managed to secure tickets to the game, and would be taking him with him. When he got to the building, he entered the lobby. The whole structure was modern-looking, and the secretary greeted him as usual. Everyone knew everybody in the building, and they all were Georgia fans. The secretary said, "Did you hear what happened, Tom? Larry Munson died." At that moment, his heart caved in on him. After a sad discussion with a couple other of his friends, he slumped to the elevator and punched the button for the 4th floor, where his accounting office was. His day from then on was mournful, as was for all of his co-workers.
It was 3:00 P.M., later that day. Mark Richt was in his office. He was leaning against the desk, watching some film of his defense. "We're gonna have to step it up. Washington's prepared this time," he muttered to himself. He glanced pointlessly outside at the practice field. He decided to go for a walk to Sanford Stadium. He picked up the remote and stopped the film. He felt lost. As he walked to the stadium, he felt empty, too. One of his best aquaintances had died, and he forgot about his team winning their division. The walk took about 20 minutes, and Richt was silent. He got to the field. He walked out to the center of the stadium, and closed his eyes. He prayed. Suddenly, Richt felt a few flakes landing lightly upon his head. "Snow's come real early," he said surprised. He held out his hand. A few of the flakes fell on his palm. He tasted them. He was dumbfounded about it, and then he realized what it was. He acted as if he expected it. He said, "Sugar."
The man was leaving his office at 5:00 P.M. As he left the elevator, he saw the surprise outside. "Wow, the forecast didn't say snow." He left the building, and as he walked down the street, a couple flakes tasted his toungue. "Hmmm, it tastes like, like sugar." A noise quickly broke the peaceful silence. An old man was across the street. That old man called across the street: "Hey! Snow's come way early. Is this some sort of sign." The man from the office called back. "Yeah! But it's not snow! Look at the sugar falling out of the sky!"
That day everyone in Athens witnessed the sugar falling out of the sky. They all remembered back to that beautiful day, and how Larry Munson delivered it. Later that day, Richt called the whole team back to the practice field for a meeting. "This is a sign," he said. "Larry Munson wants us to win, and we're gonna give it to him."