This Cocktail Thursday thing may be getting out of hand. If I didn't know better, I could have sworn that the entire University of Georgia defense was imbibing Bourbon Punch at halftime of the Kentucky game. That's the only explanation I can come up with.
The plan of attack this week is simple. We need to get to 28 points. Auburn hasn't scored more than that number against a Division 1-A team since the first week of the season (that's when they scored 34 on Louisiana-Monroe). It's pretty simple really: Auburn's offense stinks. If that cobbled together monstrosity was an animal, it would be a platypus. If it were a child actor, Auburn's offense would be Jaleel White. If it were a car, it would be a Yugo. It just doesn't really fit together in any intelligible way, and it's bound to break down sooner rather than later.
The one circumstance under which i am fairly confident that the Georgia Bulldogs will win Saturday's installment of The Deep South's Oldest Rivalry is if the Auburn offense is forced to perform like a Porsche. If this one becomes a barn burner, if the WarPlainsTigerPlatypi have to match us score for score, I'm fairly certain the result will be Kodi Burns turning the ball over late to clinch the thing. So what's the appropriate cocktail for a late fall barn burner in greater Opelika?
The Barner Burner, a new twist on the classic Barn Burner. You'll need 1 cup of hot apple cider, 1 oz. of Southern Comfort, 1/2 oz. of peach schnapps, and a dash of lemon juice. Mix it all together and garnish with a cinammon stick. If you spill any, just blot it up with some of the unused toilet paper laying around from the Vanderbilt, Ole Miss, Arkansas or West Virginia victory celebrations that never were. By the way, shouldn't a team that loses to Vandy, Ole Miss and Arkansas not only all in the same season, but in three consecutive conference games get demoted to the Sun Belt Conference and have to play their way back into the big leagues? Just a thought.
I'll be back tomorrow evening with the five things you'll see on the Plains. Until then . . .