Tis the season to take a look back at the college football season that was. We could of course do a basic game by game recap of the Georgia Bulldogs’ 2025 football season. Just go over the stats and storylines from that point in the season. Talk about the things we thought we’d learned (that often turned out not to really be true). . But where’a the fun (or challenge) in that?
Instead, I’ve decided to once again recap every game played by the Red and Black last year in the style of a different literary great of the past. We begin by revisiting the opener against Marshall in the style of one of the most stylish writers of the 20th century, that chronicler of the idle rich of the British Isles, the great P.G Wodehouse.
The Bulldogs of Georgia, and Their Afternoon’s Work
It would be misleading to suggest that Georgia approached the matter of the Marshall Thundering Herd with anything resembling elaborate preparation. One does not, after all, bring out the good silver for Tuesday supper. The Bulldogs, sensible fellows to a man, simply attended to the fundamentals with the quiet competence of a well-trained but unsettlingly violent butler, and the result was precisely the sort of outcome that causes Athenian enthusiasts to press loved ones warmly by the hand and emit small but audible pips of satisfaction.
The offense, that sometimes temperamental engine, produced four hundred and eighty-eight yards of progress, which is the sort of figure that puts a spring in the step. More gratifying still was the democratic distribution of the spoils, two hundred and forty-nine yards through the airier regions, of Clarke County and two hundred and thirty-nine along the terrestrial firmament, a balance that would have brought a tear to the eye of a haughty gentleman’s gentleman who appreciates things being properly shared out.
One Dwight Phillips contributed sixty yards on a mere five carries, which represents a commendable rate of knot. It was the sort of economy of effort Bertram Wooster would admire, sparing of actual perspiration for ample reward. Some might call it sloth, but only because they lack the vision to recognize genius.
But it was the young Stockton (Gunner, as his intimates know him) who topped the red and black rushers with seventy-three yards merely upon ten attempts, and who further distinguished himself by becoming the first Georgia quarterback since the estimable Stetson Bennett, in that celebrated championship business of 2022, to motor across the goal line on multiple occasions in a single afternoon. One felt that Stockton, a young man who appears to have been assembled with an excess of energy, rather enjoyed himself.
Now, I should note that Coach Bobo — a man who, one gathers, has views on the proper deportment of a quarterback — may not have intended for the lad to do quite so much galloping about in the early exchanges. But the film, as they say, does not lie, and by the time the rougher fellows of the SEC come snorting onto the schedule, opposing coaches will have spent any number of sleepless nights attempting to devise counter-measures for this tiger from Tiger. This is the sort of reputation that takes years to shake.
The pass protection, one must confess, was not uniformly of the highest order. In truth it was more akin to the fare at a roadside pub than supper at the Savoy; sufficiently filling, but lacking in any panache. There were moments when the offensive line presented something of an open-door policy to the Marshall rush, and it fell to young Stockton to extricate himself by means of his legs, a resource his predecessor Carson Beck, (a perfectly decent chap in his way, acclaimed the Gussy Fink-Nottle of his generation) was rather less richly endowed with.
A portion of the blame for the sporadic hijinx at the front may be laid at the door of injuries to guards Morris and Gaston, and to the tackle Greene, which is the sort of personnel setback that tends to complicate matters. Morris, to his credit, dusted himself off and returned to the fray after taking his lumps. The coach, Smart by name and one assumes by nature, was heard to speak warmly of one Bo Hughley, who stepped in for Greene in a manner that gave general satisfaction. Gaston, however, was dispatched for what the medical profession terms an MRI, and may find himself resting on his laurels for some time to come. If the laurels are draped over a set of crutches that would be all the worse.
Defensively, the Bulldogs performed in more or less the fashion one would expect from a sound outfit confronting an opponent who had not previously been identified as a source of particular danger. The total yardage conceded was two hundred and seven, and the bulk of that accumulated only after the backups had been introduced, which is the sort of mitigating circumstance that any fair-minded observer would take into account. Georgia will shortly encounter opposition of a considerably more muscular stripe than a Marshall eleven still engaged in the philosophical question of who ought to be throwing the ball. But on this particular afternoon the gents did what was asked of them, which is all any reasonable employer can demand.
The matter of turnovers, it is true, remained untouched. No fumbles recovered, no interceptions plucked from the muggy, hazy Georgia sky. Yet the Herd was held to three successes from fifteen attempts on third down (a conversion rate of twenty percent) which is the sort of statistic that causes defensive coordinators to exhale through the nose with quiet approval. This is particularly worth noting given that the 2024 unit had displayed a certain, shall we say, reluctance to remove opposing offenses from the premises when requested. And the tackling — ah, the tackling! — while it could not be described as the work of artists, was by and large what one would call passable to good. Given that Coach Smart had spent no inconsiderable portion of the fall training camp period expressing certain anxieties on precisely this subject, ( and in his customary quiet, calm manner) one takes it as a promising portent.
The Classic City Canines, for so the cognoscenti style them, now prepare for another engagement, this time against the Austin Peay Governors who are not, one understands, expected to trouble the scorers unduly. There are limits, naturally, to what a thinking man can deduce about his team from such airy exercises. But Georgia, on this September day, showed encouraging signs of having squared up to certain of last season’s demons and given them a firm talking-to. As fresh starts go, one has seen worse.
Go ‘Dawgs!
