So the Georgia fan made plans to travel to Capital City, and sat by his Facebook, and there made him a booth, secure in his beloved Traditions, till he might see what would become of the Silver Britches. And Crazy Old Testament God prepared a uniform of red helmets, red jerseys, and silver britches, and made it a comfort to the Georgia fan, that they might remind him of Glorious Days, to deliver him from 6-7. So the Georgia fan was exceeding glad of the Tradition. But COTG prepared a Swoosh when the morning rose the next day, and it smote the Tradition that it withered. And it came to pass, when the sun did arise, that COTG prepared a vehement glare of red jerseys, red pants, and shocking red helmet band that burned upon the eyes of the Georgia fan, that he fainted, and wished in himself to die, and said, It is better for me to die than to live. And COTG said to the Georgia fan, Doest thou well to be angry for the Tradition? And he said, I do well to be angry, even unto death. Then said COTG, Thou hast had pity on the Tradition, for the which thou hast not suffered a single two-a-day, neither blocked a Big Bad John; which came up in a night, and perished in a night, BUT ONLY FOR A NIGHT. And should not I spare the wishes of your team, those in the arena, wherein are more than fourscore persons that desireth the bada$$ Oval G and dog-collar motif on their left hand and their right hand; and also much Bronco-busting?