We Don't Pay It Any Mind

(Matt Barrie) — ESPN Podcast

"We're four weeks into the college football season, and if you ask me, the one thing everyone should be watching is this: are the Georgia Bulldogs, once again, the closest thing to a national champion this year? The momentum this team has built so far is simply staggering. Who wants to kick us off?"

(Kirk Herbstreit) — ESPN Podcast

"Go ahead, Paul. You first."

(Paul Finebaum) — ESPN Podcast

"I went first last time, remember? So it's your turn this round. Heh heh heh."

(Kirk Herbstreit)

"Heh. Fine, fine. Hmm— it might be a touch early to say it outright, but there's no question they look like the most complete team on both sides of the ball so far. Alabama, Oregon, Oklahoma, Notre Dame, Penn State—there are plenty of undefeated teams beyond that list, but nobody has steamrolled their opposition the way Georgia has. A point differential of 238 across just four games. 254 points scored, 16 allowed. Every one of those numbers is unprecedented in the history of college football. It's flat-out insane. Utterly dominant."

(Matt Barrie)

"Then let me throw out a question—fairest warning, it's a genuinely thorny one. Is Georgia an offensive team, or a defensive one?"

(Kirk Herbstreit)

"You've got to be kidding me. Nobody can pick just one."

(Paul Finebaum)

"Hmm—I'd tilt the scales toward defense. Allowing four points a game through four contests is flat-out miraculous. Yes, UAB and Vanderbilt were weaker opponents, but they're still FBS football teams. Georgia hasn't allowed more than 350 total yards through four games. Teams facing the Dawgs are struggling to even move the ball a hundred yards all game. This defense currently fields five or more players who will be first-round talent in next year's NFL Draft. It's essentially an NFL roster out there. The offense, on the other hand, isn't quite that."

(Matt Barrie)

"Kirk? Looks like you're stuck defending the offense."

(Kirk Herbstreit)

"Not a problem—I was already leaning that way anyway. Paul's right, Georgia's defense is absolutely loaded with talent. But the reason I'd still call them an offensive team is simple: their quarterback exists on a different plane entirely."

"No position in any sport affects wins and losses as directly as quarterback. If your quarterback is bad, no defense in the world can carry you to victory. We all know that. Sure, Georgia's offensive talent might run a shade thinner than its defensive depth. And yet they're posting the number-one offense in the nation anyway—which tells you exactly what kind of quarterback they have. And having the best quarterback means, ultimately, having the best offense."

(Matt Barrie)

"We want to hear from all of you listening at home. Drop your takes in the comments—in a little while, we'll pick out your questions, read them, and answer them live."

#. September 26, 2021

#-1. Athens, Georgia, USA

#-2. Kirby Smart's House

It being Sunday, I headed to Coach's house for dinner along with the rest of the leadership group.

"You're a lot more diligent than I first gave you credit for."

"Honestly, that part surprises me too."

"Things are still good between you two?"

"Yeah. Seems that way."

After complimenting how Hannah shows up to my games no matter where Georgia happens to be playing, Coach steered the conversation to the real matter at hand.

The other guys were off chatting with his wife.

"Yes. If it's him, of course I've heard of him."

"I figured as much."

"You're thinking of bringing him in?"

"We've been in steady contact. He's visiting campus on Saturday. I'm planning to have him watch the game, too."

It goes without saying, but every year there are high school football players who command the spotlight. Last year it was Quinn Ewers and JT Tuimoloau rated as the biggest prizes among that class of five-stars, and this year all the attention is on a kid who's been famous since two years back.

Travis Hunter.

(Travis Hunter)

A.K.A. 'bih you thought'.

Or Mr. Do Everything.

The lunatic who plays both wide receiver and cornerback, taking the field for literally every single snap—yeah, that's the guy.

Granted, if I put my mind to it I could double up at middle linebacker too, but no football coach alive would allow it once they knew I was their quarterback.

Anyway.

He's bringing him in?

That's so not Coach's style, though?

I genuinely think the talent is real, and if he came to Georgia he'd obviously help. But if this were the 2021 class, maybe—coming in with the 2022 class, he just doesn't fit here.

"What would you do?"

"What do you mean?"

"If you were in my shoes. Truth is, the board's been leaning on me. Thinking about your future in the NFL, they insist we absolutely need a star like Travis Hunter."

Ah—

So that's it.

Figures.

In the two years since my recruitment, Georgia had pulled in more donations than it had over the previous six combined, and a board that had gotten a taste of that money would want to minimize losses however it could.

Hence needing Travis.

He's a massive box-office draw in his own right, after all.

"Honestly, whatever excuses they make, Travis really is a tremendous player. Having a guy like that join the team would be a clear win."

"…."

I took Coach's silence as an invitation to keep going.

"The real question is whether he meshes with our Bulldogs. You only have to glance at ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠his social media to get a feel for who he is. Big ego, doesn't care about anybody else. Winning matters to him—but not for the team's sake. He just wants to prove himself. Which, to be fair, is probably because he knows exactly how talented he is."

Binding Travis Hunter with discipline is impossible.

Which means—

"You'd have to let him do whatever he wants."

"You're saying I'd have to play him on every snap."

"Which side draws you more, Coach? Offense? Defense?"

Coach answered without a second's hesitation: ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠defense.

Talent on par with Patrick Surtain, he said.

Truthfully, I'd expected exactly that answer.

He takes defense seriously seriously.

And besides, the one position where our defense is a hair thin this year is cornerback. Kelee Ringo and Derion Kendrick are grinding away in their own way, but compared to positions stacked with day-one draft talent, the corner room as a whole is merely average.

It only looks good thanks to the pressure our D-line puts on opposing pockets and the excellence of our safeties.

Ordinary fans might not catch it, but an NFL scout would spot it in a heartbeat.

So if Travis Hunter committed to focusing on cornerback and joined us, next year's defense would have nothing to worry about either.

But that's not how it's going to play out.

The conversation was getting a little heavy, so we'd moved outside at some point and kept talking there.

"If you truly want him, Coach, I think you have to promise him offense and defense. And a proper written commitment at that. If you break it, he gets to transfer the following year—honestly, he'll probably make you put that clause in too."

"…What I'm worried about comes after you, son."

"I think I know what you mean."

Travis Hunter is going to try to do everything.

Social media, YouTube. He'll be a new breed of player the sport has never seen.

If that force of personality connects to real leadership, it could lift an entire team. But if he's exactly what he looks like from the outside, then the right answer—for him and everyone else—is to play for a team that exists to worship him.

Because wherever else he goes, the only thing he'll wreck is the team.

"You'd still be willing to work with him, though?"

"Of course. Absolutely."

"Good."

Before heading back inside, I figured since recruiting had come up, I'd ask one more thing.

The quarterback room.

Van is a good kid, but what he's shown as a backup so far has been bitterly disappointing.

Coach said he'd give it time through next year and keep watching, but that his focus would be on the 2023 recruiting class, which has big-name quarterbacks in it.

Fair enough.

The 2022 quarterback pool is a disaster.

2023, on the other hand, is loaded.

The headliner is Arch Manning—eldest grandson of the Manning family, a name you simply cannot leave out of any conversation about American football, and Cooper Manning's son.

"Let's head in. The wind's getting chilly."

"Yes, sir."

Watching Coach wrestle with the Travis Hunter recruitment, I found myself thinking of my days with the New York Jets.

Football is brutally hard to hold power in for the long haul, so you have to give everything to the present while pouring every spare ounce into the future—only then can you steer a team in the right direction.

Look no further than Clemson, last year's No. 1: with Week 4 in the books, they're sitting all the way down at 25. LSU, which started last season at No. 6, began this year at No. 16 and had been shoved out of the top 25 after a single week.

That's football.

You have to keep replenishing talent, relentlessly.

On that front, we're well prepared.

The last three years of recruiting had gone extraordinarily well, and this year's class—Brock Bowers, Adonai Mitchell, Kingsley Suamataia, Amarius Mims and the rest—was already performing early.

I was certain we could keep showing exactly what we'd shown ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠last year and so far this year, at minimum through next season.

"Moi!"

"What?!"

"We're firing up the Wii— you in?!"

"Obviously!"

We all gathered in the living room and played games together, staying at Coach's house until pretty late.

Eventually—

"I'm telling you, that day was ridiculously funny."

"Pfft-hahaha— for real."

"Idiot."

It had gotten to the awkward point where everyone was due back at their own dorms, so instead we spread blankets across the living room floor and lay there staring at the ceiling.

Weston and Andrew were snuggled in right between us.

"Well then—lights out?"

"Night-night, sleep tight!"

"Good night, ma'am."

"Ha! Good night, you rascals."

‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠

Click.

A night spent among friends.

This, too, was an awfully precious moment.

#. September 30, 2021

#-1. Arlington, Texas, USA

#-2. AT&T Stadium

#-3. Owner's Suite

About the Dallas Cowboys—America's Team, as they're affectionately known—people like to say this:

Dallas's greatest strength is Jerry Jones.

And its greatest weakness is also Jerry Jones.

When Doc Prescott went down with an injury in the Week 5 game the previous year and the team's record went into a tailspin, Jerry Jones resolved to sell off the starting quarterback whose 2020 offseason offer he had rejected.

At the same time, he made up his mind to join the tanking line for Dwayne Moi Stone.

But before that resolution could even settle, unable to stomach the sneers and mockery raining down on his team, Jerry Jones flipped course outright.

And since the Dallas Cowboys famously operate without a general manager, Jerry's opinion swiftly became the team's present—and its future.

The changes came fast. Prescott, whom they'd been planning to run out of town barely weeks earlier, was handed a staggering four-year, $160 million contract. Free agents were brought in to shore up the thin linebacker and safety positions.

The plan to trade away this year's draft picks to secure a future version of themselves was torn up at the root, and a multitude of players were drafted instead.

Particular effort went into gutting and rebuilding the defense that had been a living nightmare the year before—evident in the fact that all six of their top picks were spent on defensive players.

And into the office of these Dallas Cowboys, refocused on the present once again, a single phone call arrived.

"He's what now?"

Through Jerry Jones's voice, thick with bewilderment, came a clear answer from the other end of the line, wrapped in a chuckle.

—I told you we could part with Myles.

"…."

The man on the phone was Andrew Berry—executive vice president and general manager of the Cleveland Browns, and the team's football operations chief.

And out of his mouth, right now, had come an offer to hand over the best player on the roster—a defender who stood for the entire NFL.

Myles Garrett.

He'd drawn an indefinite suspension back in 2019 for that unprecedented incident—swinging a helmet he'd ripped from an opponent as a weapon—but outside of that, his reputation was that of a thoroughly professional player.

He was famously untouched by alcohol, tobacco, and drugs, a man who preferred a quiet life—his hobbies, of all things, pickup basketball and Japanese anime.

Besides, he was still locked into his contract: five years, $125 million, beginning in 2022.

For a Dallas team still aching on defense, an irresistible asset.

And yet he could not simply pounce on it.

A trade like this must never be taken at face value.

In Cleveland, football commands a devotion deeper than religion, and for the team in that city to give up the player its fans love most—there was unquestionably a hidden meaning buried in it.

Eventually, Jerry Jones asked.

"What's the catch?"

—It's simple. We're pressing the reset button.

"…So the Browns are eyeing 2023 too."

—I won't deny it. I judged it a necessary step to finally end the Browns' tragic history.

"The price?"

—First-round picks for each of the next three years. Third-round picks for two years after that. And finally, a couple of players good enough to contribute on special teams.

"That's outright highway robbery."

—I'd call those terms more than fair.

"…."

Jerry Jones knew it too.

The offer on the table was quite reasonable.

Acquiring an end with two Pro Bowls and an All-Pro First Team nod by age 25 for nothing more than that package? Tremendously attractive.

NFL draft picks carry such high value precisely because of their uncertainty—so when a proven, certain player hits the market, parting with a handful of first-rounders costs you nothing to lose sleep over.

If this trade happened, Dallas could field the most fearsome edge duo in the NFL alongside this year's draft pick, Micah Parsons.

But it was far too early in the calendar to pull the trigger.

There was no need to accept this offer right now.

—Naturally. Though I should note, the price may go up.

"Meaning we're first in line?"

—That's correct.

Love him or hate him as an NFL owner—as a businessman, Jerry Jones's reputation was sterling, and his mind was already turning at full speed.

The reason the Cleveland Browns were so boldly reaching for the reset button was, of course, to prepare for drafting Dwayne Moi Stone in 2023.

With TFM (Tank For Moi) already a fixture in the media, the league office had made clear early on that it would be watching for intentional losses more closely than ever.

So certain teams, rather than going through the messy business of outright throwing games, would instead choose to quietly weaken their own rosters piece by piece.

Exactly like the Cleveland Browns were doing right now.

Then who was next?

Click.

After the call with Andrew Berry ended, Jerry Jones deliberated a moment, then summoned his children to the office.

"You three—find out what's moving out there."

"What kind of movement, exactly?"

"Whether there are teams like the Browns—ones looking to swap their most valuable asset for future value. If there are, we trade our draft picks for whichever one carries the highest price tag."

Judging that stepping back from the contest to land Dwayne Moi Stone had actually worked in his favor, Jerry Jones let slip—on the subject of football, as ever—words that contradicted themselves completely.

Only a fool sells the present for uncertainty.

Never once pausing to consider that he had done precisely that a few months ago, Jerry Jones made no effort to hide the greedy glint in his eyes.

#. October 1, 2021

#-1. Athens, Georgia, USA

#-2. University of Georgia

#-3. Vandiver Hall, Room 607

I have two wide receiver friends who were drafted in last year's NFL Draft.

One is Amon-Ra St. Brown.

The other is—

"Shut up. That's literally just me doing your dance."

"Hold still. I'll heal you."

Justin Jefferson had been drafted 22nd overall in the first round last year by the Minnesota Vikings.

Then, in his rookie season, he was named to the Pro Bowl and the All-Pro Second Team, instantly establishing himself as an elite receiver—and above all, he turned the Griddy Dance into a national phenomenon.

These days, from grown adults down to five-year-old kids, there isn't a soul in America who doesn't know the Griddy.

I've kept the friendship going with this pride and joy of mine ever since meeting him at an LSU camp, and every so often we game together like this.

"Legendary, my foot."

"That's Ja'Marr Chase's dance anyway, and you know it."

And just like JJ said, tomorrow was the day the world would first hear what the university president had demanded of me.

The song had already been given to the team the previous Wednesday.

My teammates and I had been working on our timing since then, too.

The good news: the reaction has been great.

"ESPN. Noon kickoff—think you can catch it?"

"Watch the replay online later."

We gamed for a good while, and before closing Discord, JJ and I talked a bit longer.

"Probably not. Unless Cousins goes down."

"Will do. Night."

I pulled off my headset, draped it carelessly over the desk, powered down the desktop, and headed into the bathroom for a shower.

Tomorrow we play Arkansas.

Unranked in the preseason AP poll, Arkansas had knocked off No. 15 Texas and No. 7 Texas A&M to climb all the way to No. 8.

The consensus was that they'd improved over last season in every respect, and with Sam Pittman now in his second year at the helm, the team had developed a distinct identity of its own.

But we don't pay it any mind.

And I'm not the only one—the entire team feels the same.

We're simply ready.

Ready to bark, loud and proud, the way Bulldogs do.

Woof.

Woof.

"A—choo! Sniff."

Hm?

Is somebody talking about me?

Wiping my nose, I headed into the bedroom to sleep.

Good Night.

Tomorrow is the Week 5 game.